The expert stood in shock: “Your last house”

  (photo credit: SHUTTERSTOCK)
(photo credit: SHUTTERSTOCK)

In one of his recent lectures, Rabbi Yoshiyahu Pinto shared a story carrying a timely, relevant message. It tells of a man, an expert in interior design and home renovation, who dedicated his life to perfecting every house he touched.

This craftsman’s role was to complete homes after initial construction was finished. He ensured that windows were perfectly aligned, doors fit seamlessly, frames stood strong, and every detail reflected the highest standard of quality. His expertise earned him a reputation across the industry, recognized by all as a professional who never compromised on quality or slacked in his work.
His career with the company spanned decades. Ten years, twenty, thirty—over the years, he not only gained experience but also a reputation as the company’s finest worker. Everyone knew that if he took on a project, the house would turn out flawless, a true work of art.
Driven by a deep sense of commitment, he saw every home as a reflection of his dedication to perfection. For three decades, he built beauty and added a touch of excellence to every house he crafted.
Then came the moment he decided to retire. Age had crept in, and he wanted to focus on his family and enjoy some peace after years of meticulous and intense work. But just as he was about to leave, the owner approached him with one last request. “Just two more houses,” said his employer. “I ask that you complete them—they are very important to us.”
Out of respect for his employer and gratitude for all the years of work together, he agreed. And so, with the same investment and attention to detail that defined him, he built those last two houses as impeccably as any other project, perfect to the smallest detail.
When he finished, the owner approached him again, asking him to take on one final house. At this point, the man began to feel his energy wane; his heart was no longer in his work. He hesitated, saying his time had come, but eventually relented out of appreciation for the company and his colleagues, and agreed to complete this final house.
But this time, something was different. He worked without the passion and care that had always defined him. He went through the motions, without putting his heart into the task. The windows turned out slightly crooked, the doors were misaligned, and gaps showed between the frames. He worked “just to get it done” and leave. Every small detail that required extra thought was neglected, resulting in a house that was unfinished, imprecise, and imperfect.
At the end of the project, he approached the manager and said, “Here, I’ve finished this house as well.” The manager looked at him seriously and said, “We’re grateful for all you’ve done here over the past thirty years. Every house you completed was a masterpiece, into which you poured your heart and soul. We decided to give you the last house you built as a gift, a token of appreciation for your dedicated, honest work over the years.”
The man stood in shock. He looked at the house—the very one in which he had neglected to put the attention and care he’d devoted to every other home—and felt a wave of regret. For years he had built flawless homes, yet when he finally had a chance to build one for himself, it turned out to be a rushed, careless job, lacking any unique touch.

Stay updated with the latest news!

Subscribe to The Jerusalem Post Newsletter


Rabbi Pinto concluded the story with a piercing message: a person must know that anything done without perfection will eventually remain with them. The good, complete actions ripple outward, but the actions performed with negligence and lack of care—these are what we hold onto.

This article was written in cooperation with Shuva Israel