By Sacinandana Swami
Once there was a young man, rather immature in his life, but
ready to learn. He had a strong liking for antiques and was
always eager to visit the different antiques stores during his
holidays in Europe. Over time he developed a strong interest in
antique pottery and especially in tea cups. He felt that they each
had a unique story to tell.
Once, in a dusky antiques store in Serbia, he spotted an
exceptional tea cup which clearly had Turkish influences. He
asked the bespectacled seller, “May I see that exceptionally
beautiful tea cup over there? It seems to come from Turkey.”
As the seller handed him the tea cup, the young man suddenly
heard the tea cup speak.
“You don’t understand,” it said, “I have not always been a tea
cup. There was a time when I had no idea what service meant. I
was just a dumb lump of red clay on the ground. Let me tell you
my story, you will learn from it.” The cup continued on, saying,
“I’ve lived for many, many thousands of years. I’ve witnessed
war and peace come and go. Entire civilizations rolled over me
as I sat there waiting...for what, I don’t know. Then one day my
master came. He took me to his home, rolled and pounded me
on a wooden table. Again and again, he poked his fingers into
me until finally I yelled out, ‘Don’t do that! Leave me alone!’ But
he only smiled and gently said, ‘Not yet.’”
The tea cup became more and more alive as he spoke to the
shocked young man. “Then, whoommmm! I was suddenly on a
spinning wheel and was spun around repeatedly until I lost all
sense of direction. ‘Stop it! Can’t you see that I’m getting sick?
Take me off the spinning wheel!’ But my master only nodded in
understanding and quietly said, ‘Not yet.’ He continued to bend
me in and out of shape and then he...he placed me carefully into
an oven. I never felt such heat before. I yelled and knocked and
pounded at the door. ‘It is hotter than hell; I’m burning to ashes.
Please get me out of here before it is too late.’ I could see him
through a tiny hole but could only read his lips as he shook his
head from side to side and silently pronounced, ‘Not yet.’
When I thought I could not bear the heat any longer, the door
opened. He carefully took me out and put me on a shelf where
I began to cool. It felt so good to be left alone. But there was
more to come. After I had cooled down he carefully picked me
up, looked at me and brushed some dust away. Then, he
painted on colors and something transparent—the glaze. The
fumes were horrible! I thought I would gag! ‘Please! Have you no
mercy? Don’t you understand my misery? Please, please give
up on me! Please! Stop it!’ But he only shook his head and said,
‘Not yet, you are not yet ready.’
Unexpectedly, and very quickly, he put me back into the oven.
This time it was about twice or thrice as hot as the first time.
From the beginning I thought, ‘This is my death!’ I begged. I
pleaded. I threatened. I screamed. Finally, I cried without tears,
not even hot tears. I was convinced I would never make it. I was
ready to give up. Just then—as I was fainting, the door opened
and he took me out. Again, he placed me on the shelf where I
was left to cool. I waited...and waited...and waited. What was
going to be next?
About an hour later he came back and placed a mirror before me
and said, ‘Look at yourself!’ And I did. What I saw amazed me. It
is what you see now. ‘That’s not me!’ I said. ‘That cannot be me.
It is too beautiful.’
In a very compassionate voice he spoke. ‘This is what you are
meant to be.’ And then he explained, ‘I know it hurt you when I
rolled and kneaded you on the table. But if I had not gotten the
air out of you, you would have broken. I know you must have
lost all sense of orientation when I was spinning you. But without
the spinning wheel, you would never have come into this form.
I know the fumes of the colors and the glaze were intolerable
when I painted you all over. But if I had not done that, you would
not have had any color in your life and you wouldn’t have
hardened. And when I placed you in the second oven I knew that
this would be the most severe part. But without it, you would
have broken very easily when the realities of life would come.
Believe me; all I did was for your good. Now you are what I had
in mind when I first saw you on the ground. Now you are a
finished product.’” With this the tea cup stopped speaking—but
there was a tear of gratefulness coming from its beautiful rim.
The young man purchased the tea cup and used it only when
he offered something to God. He never forgot the lesson he
received from it. And whenever he was in a difficult situation and
felt like calling out ‘Stop it! Leave me alone!’ he remembered the
words of the teacup maker, “Not yet.” However, he also became
grateful, for he knew that everything that happened was
designed by the Lord to make him what he was meant to
become: A pleasing servant.
God knows what He is doing for each of us. He is the potter and
we are the clay. He will mold us and expose us to enough
pressures of just the right kind so that we become a perfect
piece to His liking: Ready to be of service.
