Everyone likes a good miracle. Whether it is a dove appearing from a hat, or a woman who escapes from a locked box, the mystery of what seems impossible pulls us in. We want to blur the lines between the incredulous and reality.
Church this week was about a miracle in the Old Testament. A woman was collecting sticks to make a fire, in order to cook the last meal for her and her son. After they ate it, they would starve. Then Elijah approached her, asking for a drink of water. As she turned to fetch it, he also asked for a piece of bread. She hesitated, saying that all she had was a little flour, and a bit of oil in a jar. But he promised her that the flour would not run out, and the
oil would continue to flow if she shared them.
She trusted him, or rather she trusted God, who the text says had commanded her to feed him.
The minister demonstrated the magic, showing us the sparse remaining flour, and the emptied jar. But a
moment later there was a generous supply of white powder, and another gulp of oil. I smiled, to see them appear.
There are rules about quantity that restrict us. Only so many dollars in my account can be withdrawn. The gas in my car impacts how far I can drive, unless of course we buy a hybrid which John is considering. But there are other supply chains that ignore such
limits. The sunshine which is blessing my neighborhood today will warm everyone that steps outside. No one's share is depleted by a crowd. The musicians on stage can entertain everyone who walks through the door. Sound is not divided by the number of ears. Laughter spreads, rather than diminishes when it is shared.
The minister demonstrated another endless supply. He
asked two girls to stand beside him, and for one to give the other a hug. Which she did. Then he asked her to give another. And another. As anyone who has witnessed a wedding, or graduation knows, this can go on for quite some time.
It is interesting that the widow had no qualms about giving Elijah water, even though there was a drought. But expecting her to share her
depleted source of bread was harder. Water corresponds to true ideas, whereas bread symbolizes love. Maybe many of us are poised to give someone a piece of our mind, but when it comes to offering compassion, we can be stingy.
The task we were invited to participate in as a congregation was to write a message on a heart shaped picture of bread, tear it off, and give it to
someone. While the sleight of hand with the flour was impressive, watching people walk across the room was the real miracle that morning.
Plus when a kind soul handed one to my Benjamin, my smile grew wider.