Pearls are formed as a reaction to a grain of sand that became lodged in an oyster's shell. Responding to the discomfort it feels as the irritant presses against its membranes, the shellfish secretes fluids that cushion vulnerable tissues from the bite of the sand. Year after year, the oyster applies its fluids against the sand, coating the irritant with its slime, a glue-like substance that anneals the invasive sand, easing the discomfort. These secretions continue until the mollusk attains the relief, and its reward for diligence is the flawless pearl it has produced, which has become uniformly round and smooth as glass.

The oyster's battle with inanimate sand is akin to man's battle with personal error. The sand has no thought of the oyster, nor does error have thought for the man. Their encounter, one with the other, is circumstantial, but the effects are serious, and resolution comes only after years of careful struggle in pursuit of the only be casually dug out of the man without great harm; for the error has become part of him, and it will take years of dedicated thought before the error no longer has power to harm.

There is error, and there is guilt from error. They are not the same. To err, which is to sin, is to make a mistake in a matter about which you had insufficient data. "Had they known," as the scripture says, "they would not have crucified the Lord of Glory." We may think we know what we do, but our human arms-- our bodily members and the faculties they control-- are as puppet masters that move and affect our real selves in realms we can't imagine. It is the feedback from pain error causes in those realms that causes guilt.

The only palliative a human has for sin is prayer. Even if a man is able to impose control over himself, so that a past error is not repeated, the memory and impact of that error attends him at all times, whether or not it surfaces in his behavior. There is no hiding the history of error under good works, even if the works are wholly good in themselves and are performed to the man's credit. The irritant is an embedded constant, whether hidden or not. It digs and bites and must be dealt with if the man is to find rest within his soul.

For mankind, righteousness is the pearl of great price; for none of us is righteous: HaShem, alone, is good: even the heavens are not clean in his sight. Confounded by the burden of error he carries, a man can find no resolution on his own; for the error has roots in realms that are beyond his access and control. Helpless in the shell of his body as the tides of life carry him about, man continually reaches back inwardly, grasping for substance that can offer relief from the imperfection that entered his soul through error.

The hunger for righteousness is vain, except it becomes a call for the Presence; and even though that call can be answered in a moment of epiphany, complete freedom from that error may take a lifetime or even longer. Our conversation while subject to error blasphemes the Breath we use to speak: yes, even to pray. On our own, we never have forgiveness and are in danger of eternal condemnation.

Creation was good in the beginning, when the man and his wife walked with God among the trees in the Garden. It shall be very good at the end of days, when the Sons of Man all shall walk in God. Walking as pearls of great price by reason of the covering of Messiah has laid upon them and within them, they will be been cleansed of all iniquity and filled with HaShem's righteousness.

That is the righteousness we must seek, not our own. We need to pay attention to the circumstances and patterns of behavior the Father initiates to balance the books with our brethren and to restore us to himself without spot or blemish:  not for our sake, are we saved, but for his Name's sake. None of us will be allowed to sully his Name by our recalcitrance. We shall all be grafted into the Tree of Life to celebrate eternity with the Sons of God. For this reason, the prophet admonishes, "Learn what that means, I will have mercy, and not sacrifice." We reap what we sow, but we were sown to be reaped.