There was once, a long time ago, in a small Palestinian village, a carpenter’s workshop. One day when the master was absent, the tools gathered in a high council on the workbench. The meetings were long and lively, they were even vehement. The idea was to exclude a certain number of members from the tool community.
One spoke:
We must exclude our sister the saw, he said, because she bites and grinds her teeth. She has the most grumpy character in the world.
Another said:
We cannot keep among us our brother the plane which has a sharp character and which peels all that he touches.
As for Brother Hammer, said another, I find him boring. He is rowdy. He always bangs and gets on our nerves. Let’s rule it out.
And the nails? … Can we live with people who have such a sharp character? .. Let them go!
And let the file and the grater go too. To live with them, it is only perpetual friction. And let’s get rid of the sandpaper whose reason for being in this workshop is always to crumple!
So the carpenter’s tools were talking in great tumult. Everyone was talking at the same time. The story does not say if it was the hammer that accused the saw and the planer the file, but it is likely that it was so, because by the end of the session everyone was left out.
The noisy meeting ended suddenly when the carpenter entered the workshop. They fell silent when they saw him approach the bench. He grabbed a board and sawed it with the squeaky saw. Planed it with the sharp-toned planer brother who peels everything he touches. The brother chisel which wounds cruelly, our sister the grater with the harsh language, the brother sandpaper which crumples, came successively into action. The carpenter then took our brothers the nails with the sharp character and the hammer which knocks and makes noise. He used all his wicked tools to make a cradle; to welcome life.
Thus, all together in their imperfections, they were the instruments in the hands of the carpenter to create a good, useful and agreeable work.
