A story about humility, readiness, and renewal. A young scholar traveled far to study under a renowned teacher. When he arrived, he spoke at length of what he already knew — quoting verses, reciting theories, and explaining his understanding of truth. The teacher listened silently. At last, he said, “Let's have some tea.” He poured into the scholar’s cup until it was full — and kept pouring. The tea spilled over the edge and ran across the table. “Stop!” cried the scholar. “The cup is full — no more will go in!” The teacher set down the pot. “You are like this cup,” he said. “How can truth enter when you are already full?” Reflection Prompts - What “fullness” do we carry that keeps us from receiving new understanding — pride, certainty, fear, or habit? - When was the last time you deliberately emptied your cup — and what did you make room for? - Can humility and confidence coexist? How might we balance both? Yesterday’s story, The Hidden Flame, invited us to share what we have. Today's story reminds us that to truly receive, we must first make space within ourselves. The Lampstand glows brightest when each of us listens as much as we speak — when our light meets the open air of humility.

A traveler resolved to rise above the fog that swallowed his village each morning. He began to build a ladder. He shaped its sides from the strength he inherited — the stories of his ancestors, the lessons of his youth, the memory of hands that once lifted him. And each rung he crafted from a different season of his life: the study of wisdom, the pursuit of skill, the gathering of wealth, the praise of others. But as he worked, he learned something unexpected. For though he carved each rung himself, every rung was steadied by hands other than his own — the friend who encouraged him, the mentor who challenged him, the stranger who offered kindness, the family who forgave him. When he stepped back, he saw it clearly: his ladder was built from many lives, not one. Each rung was a pair of hands interlocked, supporting him upward. Still, the traveler believed the ladder was meant to lift him away. So he climbed. He ascended through the fog until, at last, he rose above it. The sun dazzled him — and yet he saw nothing but empty blue. He had reached the sky, but the world was gone. No revelation waited for him there. Then, faintly, from far below, he heard a voice calling for help —the cry of someone lost in the mist he had left behind. He looked at his ladder and understood: for all his climbing, it had never been an escape. He had always been a bridge. So he began to descend. The rungs — those hands — now felt heavier, for they bore not only his weight but his responsibility. Still, they held. When he reached the bottom, he found the voice: a child trembling in the fog, unsure of the way home. The traveler took the child’s hand, and together they began to walk. The fog did not lift —but he no longer needed the sun to see. For now, his path was guided by the steady warmth of another hand in his own. Moral / Lampstand Discussion Prompt “Meaning is not found in rising above the fog, but in returning through it — guided by the hands that hold us, and the hands we choose to hold.”

Every great story begins with a small flame. Someone lights a lamp — not to dazzle, but to see, and to help others see. Welcome to The Lampstand, a place where that flame is shared. Each day, a parable or allegory from history or scripture will be offered here — a story that has lived through centuries, still carrying warmth for those who draw near. You are invited to read, reflect, and respond. Not as a student before a teacher, nor as a believer before a creed, but as one light meeting another. Why We Gather The ancients placed their lamps on stands so that light would reach everyone in the house. We gather for the same reason — to lift stories from shadow, to let their meaning shine across faith, philosophy, and daily life. Here, truth isn’t owned by any single voice. It emerges in the dialogue between perspectives — when sacred text meets human experience, when reason listens to faith, and when each of us dares to share what the light reveals. How to Begin - Read today’s parable slowly. Let it echo for a while before commenting. - When you respond, share not just what you think, but what the story illuminated for you. - Reply to others with curiosity, not correction. Every viewpoint adds to the glow. - Invite those who seek wisdom and warmth to join the circle. - A Blessing for the Beginning May this lamp never go out. May it burn with the oil of honesty, the wick of humility, and the air of open hearts. And may every story we share remind us that light multiplies when it is given away. Welcome to The Lampstand. Let us begin. The Parable of the Hidden Flame There was once a traveler who carried a small lantern through a long night. The wind was fierce, and so he cupped his hands around the flame to keep it alive. When he reached a village, he found the people asleep in darkness. Their lamps had long since gone out. He hesitated. If he shared his light, the wind might snuff it out. If he kept it to himself, he would walk on alone and safe. At last, he leaned to the nearest window and touched his flame to another wick. The new light flickered, caught, and grew. One by one, lamps began to glow across the houses until the whole valley shimmered with warmth.