Parable of the Bricklayer

September 5, 1998

Once upon a time there was a bricklayer. This bricklayer was a master of his trade and was well-known for his skill and artistry. He had built several structures in the village and many of his fellows had praised his work. So many in fact, he was nominated along with some other bricklayers to build the town monument. A monument that would come to represent and define his small village.
The villagers came together and they cast lots. When all the lots were tallied most of the villagers decided this bricklayer would be the one to build it.
Many thought other bricklayers were certainly more qualified. These other bricklayers were better people and thus merited the honor of building the town structure. Despite the backbiting and hard feelings of the minority, the bricklayer was chosen and he set out to build it.
As he built the monument brick by brick, many people commented on the beauty of his work, and how deftly he worked with the mortar. There were some though, who came by and made remarks about the color of his bricks and the style in which he laid his mud. These people had no experience in constructing town monuments, nor any monument, but the bricklayer listened to their critiques because they were members of the village too.
Time passed and the bricklayer neared the completion of his work. Many leaders from neighboring villages came to admire the great edifice. The leaders’ opinion of the entire village increased because of the bricklayer’s work. They noted his skill that showed in the placement of the bricks.
One day another bricklayer crept up and put an anonymous note on the monument. This note contained an important and disturbing announcement. He had discovered that the chosen bricklayer associated with gypsies and danced with them under a pale moon. He had also been prone to drinking fermented vine juice during his late teens. With these facts brought to light, many questioned his integrity and his appointment to build the town monument. They reasoned that a man who would associate with such a group couldn’t possibly be a good bricklayer. People who danced with gypsies would certainly mix faulty mortar or use second-rate bricks! And what kind of role model would he be for younger villagers, drinking fermented vine juice!
However, one bricklayer came forward and voiced an observation to a group of his deliberating fellows, “If we paid as close attention to our own faults, there wouldn’t be any town structures at all.” There was much speculation among the villagers. Many of the other bricklayers thought he should be removed from his project. But when the group was asked for volunteers, there were none able to match the craftsmanship of its original designer.
Many of the villagers began to be swayed by the arguments of the disgruntled bricklayers. When they walked by the bricks seemed a little les red, and the monument a little less stable.
The village council finally got together and decided the bricklayer owned his fellow villagers an explanation of his actions. The bricklayer was notified of this and he agreed to talk to the community.
To this day nobody remembers exactly what the bricklayer said, except that he had admitted to his faults.
He was allowed to finish the monument. After all, gypsy nights and drinking vine juice have nothing to do with bricklaying.