Pearls and Swine

“and do not throw your pearls before swine, or they will trample them under their feet, and turn and tear you to pieces. Matthew 7:6

Why did Jesus view pearls as extremely valuable, referring to these in parables?

It is quite interesting how pearls are formed:  most come from oysters.  Inside the oyster is an organ called the mantle that produces the inner shell lining, called nacre, out of the nutrients from the oyster’s food.

A natural pearl starts to form when sand or some other foreign substance gets dislodged in the oyster, between the mantle and the shell, causing irritation. The oyster covers up the irritant to protect itself, using its mantle to envelop the foreign object with layers of the inner shell nacre substance.  This process eventually forms a pearl.  Pearls which are naturally formed and symmetrically round are rare and command high prices.

That which was borne out of discomfort and irritation eventually becomes a gem.  In its struggle and ingenuity in protecting itself from the foreign substance’s intrusion into its comfort zone, the oyster produces a thing of beauty and great value.

What are the pearls in our lives? What gems have we produced out of various hurdles, bombardments, discomforts, pain, setbacks and irritations?  Are these life lessons, nuggets of wisdom, deeper insights, a broader understanding, some know-how, an expertise in something, or some other achievement we are proud of? Or could it be a new way of life, a truth discovered that we would be willing to stake our lives on?

Jesus warns against throwing our pearls before swine.  The literary translation of this idiom is “to offer something valuable to someone who does not understand that it is valuable” (idioms.freedictionary.com).

It is not necessary to define what a swine is, as the imagery of this creature’s brutishness and coarseness is evident.   However,  it is needful for us to recognize the swine we deal with in our everyday affairs.  Note further that the idiom dictionary definition is quite mild compared to Jesus’  warning of the great harm the swine could inflict to the pearls and to the owner of the pearls.

May the Lord grant us the wisdom to guard our pristine pearls against being thrown into the swine’s quagmire.

 

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Originally posted 2011-10-31 01:55:58.

Footsteps of the Rain

Footsteps of the Rain

a stillness,
a widow’s veil
enshrouds the air
bluebird feathers,
cardinal wings
fade
into the twilight’s
violet silence—

on the eve of the new moon
an inky osmosis
blends earth and sky
into velvet darkness
the rain arrives
upon parched soil,
releases the primal
musk of petrichor,
starfire quenched
by ebony rainclouds—

I leave you now
with the soft
footsteps of the rain

tomorrow
when the sky is cleansed
beyond the silent moon
the stars
will sparkle like sapphires
once again.

—Deirdra Vachal ©2026

Image by 51581@pixabay

Véraison


A July storm passes through the vineyard and in its wake, the first silent signs of ripening appear.

Véraison

the white heat of July slowly brewed an ink-stained sky
a grey mesh blankets the vines upon trellises
while a deafening thunderclap
shakes the ground beneath,
lingering in its fury—

after the thunder’s last murmur
come torrents of rain—
wet pedicels swell,
strain under heavy-laden clusters,
bark and cordon turn ebony
under the storm’s shadow—

the camouflage fractures after the rain,
side-swept leaves expose hidden clusters:
amethyst beads
among the celadon pearls.

—Deirdra Vachal © 2026

Image by Olivier Lemoine (https://Photo-Terroir.fr), CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0&gt;, via Wikimedia Commons

Sourland Mountain in July

Some landscapes quietly become part of our lives. I took this photograph years ago on a midsummer walk through Sourland Mountain in New Jersey. The poem that follows grew from that same summer afternoon and carries with it the deep green stillness of July.

Sourland Mountain in July

The asphalt fajita pan
sizzles,
white papal smoke ascends
from black aluminum,
scorches
naked feet,
temperatures climb, calibrated
for the appointed broiling
of flesh—

Sourland Mountain at noonday
in July:
I listen to the psalms of emerald leaves
upon twigs and branches
uplifted in praise,
the songs of the scarlet tanager,
melodious with the orchestra of Monét clouds
in this gated city of chlorophyll,
a uniform green madness—

Though I walk
through the hardness of rocks
and boulders,
I will not take this green
for granted,
I mumble on every single leaf
of fern, weed and tree,
revel
in the uncomfortable warmth,
while the green is teeming

at this very moment

before the gradual accumulated
turnings of the universe,
of sun, moon and stars
awaken
the coldness from its slumber,
before the leaves turn
into empty brown
paper bags
blown by the wind.

—Deirdra Vachal

From the poetry collection Where Love Dwells (2025) by Deirdra Garcia Vachal

Photography by Deirdra Vachal