The Candle Maker's Gifts

Once there was a candle-maker whose works were beyond compare. He crafted the most beautiful candles with exquisite details of form and color. Some were miniature castles with little spires and arches, windows and doors. Others were in the shapes of wonderful animals: horses and dragons, lions and unicorns. He made them in shades of coral, sapphire, amethyst, ruby, gold and silver; the colors of lilies, lilacs, roses and tulips; they were rainbows, starlight, the sun and the moon. People would come from miles around just to look upon these marvels. Of the many that came, very few returned to their own lands with one of the candle-maker’s candles. He made them only as gifts for the people of his village. But, he made many of them and so the villagers would sell a few to the visitors each year.

As time went by greater numbers of people came to the village. News of the candle-maker’s works spread far and wide. The villagers began to sell more and more of their candles and most kept only one or two in their homes. For many years this is how things went. The candle-maker worked diligently sculpting, molding and pouring out his heart for the people of the village. He would then visit each home and personally deliver his gift to them.

The villagers were also diligent. They worked hard at drawing large crowds and driving up the prices on the candles they wished to sell and soon grew quite wealthy. They built bigger homes and purchased finer things. They began wearing clothes made from exotic imported fabrics and would only eat food that came from afar. The candle-maker was hardly thought of any longer, except when one had but a few candles left. Then the villagers would peer anxiously from their windows, hoping to see him coming down the road toward their house with a package in his hands.

One evening the candle-maker left his workshop and headed for the house of his nearest neighbor. When they saw him coming they rushed about in excitement, for they had recently sold their very last candle. He knocked upon their door and was greeted warmly. As he stepped across the threshold, it was noticed that he had no package with him. The husband nervously cleared his throat. “What can we do for you?”

The candle-maker looked about the room. “I’ve noticed that it has grown dark.” He spoke. “I would like for you to light the candles I have given you.” The husband staggered back, unable to believe what he had just heard. He turned pleadingly to his wife. She rushed off and quickly returned with a small oil lamp that glowed softly. She handed it to her husband, who turned to the candle-maker and smiled.

“How’s this?”

“That is not a candle.” The candle-maker gently pointed out.

“No, of course it isn’t. But, it’s not so dark now is it?”

“The candles I’ve given you will burn so much brighter. Would you light those now?”

“I—that is we… Well, we can’t. We don’t have any.”

“Oh my!” The candle-maker’s concern was heartfelt. Did you misplace them? Were they stolen from you?”

“No. No, we sold them.”

“You sold them? Surely not every one.”

“Well, yes.” The man spoke proudly and made a sweeping gesture with both arms. “How else do you think we would have been able to build this house?” The candle-maker followed his gesture and nodded softly as he took in the extravagance and luxury of the home.

“Very well then. You have built a fine monument to the darkness in which you stumble.”

With these words the candle-maker left their house and walked to the very next one down the road. He knocked on the door and received the same warm reception. The man who lived there was alone and greatly enjoyed company. He was especially glad to see that his guest was the candle-maker, for he had sold all but one of his candles. He was about to offer something to drink when he noticed that the candle-maker stood empty-handed just inside the door. “What brings you to my home?” he asked.

“I’ve noticed that it has grown dark.” The candle-maker spoke. “I would like for you to light the candles I have given you.”

The man’s face tightened. “I’m sorry, but I cannot.” he answered.

“Why?”

“I have only one left.”

“I have given you many.”

“This is true. But, I have sold them all except for this one.” On the mantle, over the man’s shoulder, the candle-maker could see one of his own favorites proudly displayed. He could also see that there was a small piece of paper hanging from it by a string declaring its value.

“I see. And you will not light this one for me?”

“I will not.”

“Very well then. When the darkness comes and everything of value has lost its worth, we will then see if you light that one candle.”

With these words the candle-maker left the man’s house and walked past the many great homes of the once humble village. The people stopped and looked out of their windows and doors as the candle-maker passed by. Where once he had been a welcomed and honored guest, he was now looked upon as a curious and empty-handed stranger.

On the very outskirts of the village lived a poor, old widow in what was little more than a shed with a crooked chimney. When this woman saw the candle-maker coming she rushed out to greet him, taking him by the arm. As they walked together, she pointed out the fragrant blossoms and all the vegetables in the garden she carefully tended. She insisted that he not leave without an armful of tomatoes.

“Oh, my!” She stopped and straightened up to catch her breath. The candle maker smiled. “I’m so glad you’ve come to visit me. Here, let’s go in and sit down. You make yourself comfortable there near the fire. Would you like some tea?”

“No. But, thank you.” The candle-maker leaned forward. “I have only one thing to ask of you. “I’ve noticed that it has grown dark. I would like for you to light the candles I have given you.”

The old woman smiled just as she had when she received that first candle from the candle-maker long ago. She stood up and spun about with all the enthusiasm of a little girl and the grace of a dancer. There were matches in the cupboard, which she retrieved as if she had been waiting for this moment all her life. One by one she lit the candles. Many times the match burnt down to her fingertips and she would have to light another.

“Here. Let me help you.” The candle-maker came to her side and together they lit each and every candle in the house; each and every candle he had ever made for her. As they lit them, the light grew brighter. The flames burned red and gold, green and white. Their light poured from the old woman’s house and drove the shadows away from the entire village. One could no longer tell that it was now the middle of the night. Villagers left their homes and came outside to behold the true glory of the candle-maker’s gifts. The lights danced upon their faces and ran across the clouds, growing ever brighter with each candle that was lit. The people of the village were awestruck. Some wept with joy at the wondrous sight. Others wept for shame at the bargains they had struck.

Suddenly, the little house burst into flame knocking those who had gathered around it to the ground. A great and shining dove of white and golden flames appeared to ascend from the blaze trailing iridescent sparks high into the sky. Gradually the fire died down and it was night once again. Onlookers hurried to sift through the ashes and burnt timbers of the ruined house, but no one was found.

The villagers lived on, never again knowing the wealth and ease to which they had grown accustomed. Many left, hoping to find it elsewhere. Others stayed to remember, hoping it would return. Travelers in those parts today may see, from time to time, a tiny little light shining on a hillside in the distance.


No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on a lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. –Matthew 5:15