A wooden box and a string of pearls

I traced my fingers over the small wooden box. It almost fit in the palm of my hand, and there was nothing exotic about it’s appearance. It had surely seen better years- the carvings were slightly blurred, the paint scratched, some marks on the surface. Then I opened the box and was greeted by a string of beautiful pearls. As I held them, I marvelled at their beautiful lustre and amazing brilliance. How come such beautiful and hardy pearls had found their home in that little box?

As I recall my wonder upon seeing the pearls, I can’t help but think about the Jewish people. On the outside, we look normal. Battered, even. We’ve been through a lot. But inside, there’s something far more beautiful than my pearls. The Jewish soul.


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