Should the potter be regarded as clay?
Should the thing made say about its maker, “He didn’t make me”?
Or should the pottery say about the potter, “He doesn’t understand”?
There are two potteries within 30 km of where we stayed in Gabane; one was just down the hill from our home and the other was a short drive away in Thamaga. I visited the Gabane pottery first, with its distinctive red clay and dark/white glazing patterns. Later, we drove out to Thamaga, which is more famous for its pottery. Their pottery tends to be white-based with colored (blue, brown, iridescent) accents near the base. Each pottery's style is lovely and completely distinct from that of the other–you'd never mistake a Gabane pot for a Thamaga pot. Yet, even within a particular style, no two pots are truly the same. That is part of the beauty of being hand-fashioned rather than machine-produced. I was intrigued by some of the large mugs at Thamaga, marked with the names of their makers. I don't think they'll sell and I suspect that they are there just to remind purchasers that these mugs are made by real, individual people. Or maybe the potters were just so proud of their work that they couldn't resist putting their name on one.
What physical characteristic of your own 'jar of clay' do you think God got particularly creative with?
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