Ordinary Miracles
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I love a magic show, because the magician appears to do the impossible. But I also know that they deal in illusion and use specially-designed props. Still, I always leave shaking my head just a little, not wanting to miss anything! A magic show pulls me out of my ho-hum daily attitude, jostles me into keener awareness. And perhaps that is what Albert Einstein meant when he said, “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is.”
The older I get, the more inclined I am to see everything as magic, as miraculous. I know that when I go through my days fully alive and awake to what’s around me, I live a happier, richer existence. I savor my cappuccino, marvel at fresh carrots, enjoy the heck out of a conversation, poem or good book. And what about the human invention of music? It is magical and miraculous. If I practiced diligently for a very long time, I might learn to pull a rabbit out of a hat, but I’d so much rather practice being delighted daily by the ordinary miracles around me.
In general, I think it is easier for UUs to talk about magic than about miracles. It’s easier to keep the magic of fairy tales in perspective, than, say, the miracle stories in Judeo-Christian sacred texts. We don’t feel our belief system challenged by three wishes from a frog in a fairy tale in the same way we may feel threatened by the story of Jesus raising the dead. We know that in fairy tales magic is symbolic. But when it comes to religion, we squirm at the magical and miraculous.
I suspect this is true because religious conservatives take miracle stories as literal truth, rather than symbolic truth.
Many of us, in order to distance ourselves from this lack of rationality in religion, remove ourselves entirely from the miraculous in religious stories. Thomas Jefferson was a perfect example. He created his own version of the Bible, which became known as “The Jefferson Bible.” To do this, Jefferson simply removed all the miracle stories.
I understand his desire to affirm the use of reason in religion. But I see this tactic as a particular stage of faith development, not a final answer. It’s true: at some point in our lives we need to understand the difference between a rabbit with a pocket watch sliding down a backyard hole to a Wonderland kingdom and the skittish real rabbit in the back yard.
But here’s where the rubber hits the road: after we know the difference between the fantastical and the real, we might then discover that the lines between the two are more fluid than what we so carefully delineated.
We UUs can get so hung up on using our rational minds that we forget to look for truth in story and metaphor. So let me tell you a couple stories. First is a Biblical miracle story, which we could easily dismiss as preposterous on a rational level. But I hope you will hang in there with me while we dig a little deeper.
In the Christian Gospels Jesus is tired and travels by boat to a quiet place for some rest. However, he is followed by crowds eager to hear his teachings. The story continues:
When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them and healed their sick. As evening approached, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a remote place, and it’s already getting late. Send the crowds away, so they can go to the villages and buy themselves some food.” Jesus replied, “They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat.” “We have here only five loaves of bread and two fish,” they answered. “Bring them here to me.” And he directed the people to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish and looking up to heaven, Jesus gave thanks and broke the loaves. Then he gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the people. They all ate and were satisfied, and the disciples picked up twelve baskets full of broken pieces that were left over. The number of those who ate was about five thousand.
Now, I want you to hold that in one hand while I tell you another story. In 1974 self-made millionaire Millard Fuller and his wife Linda had a change of heart. They had incredible material wealth but were unhappy. Their marriage was in trouble. After much soul-searching, they decided to take very seriously the Bible’s call to them as Christians to share their wealth and help the poor. They literally sold all their possessions and gave the money to the poor and sought a new focus for their lives.
They ended up at Koinonia Farm, in Americus, Georgia, a small Christian community in which people were struggling to understand what it meant to live the teachings of Jesus today. From Koinonia Farm, the Fullers started Habitat for Humanity. With the staggering vision of decent housing for every person on earth, they set out to do impossible magic. What began as a handful of people in Georgia has been transformed into teams of thousands of volunteers in 100 countries building and renovating homes for 6.8 million people.
And what is even more magical about this is that Habitat doesn’t just build houses. It builds community and hope and skills. That’s why it works. Imagine raising three children in a tar-paper shack, say, or a broken bus. Then imagine being told that a lot of people who don’t even know you are going to help you build a house. And in the process, you are befriended and blessed by all the other workers. In the months of work you learn new skills and discover that you have more strength than you imagined. In the end you not only have a house, and hope, you have had the experience of being part of a supportive team.
In a tiny way I feel a part of this magic because every month I send off my pledge money to Habitat. It’s only enough to buy a sheet of plywood or a few bags of nails. But lots of others do the same. And that’s how the multitude builds many houses.
On the one hand you have a Biblical miracle story about Jesus’ disciples feeding 5,000 people with a few loaves of bread and a few fish. On the other hand we have a story about one wealthy couple following Jesus’ teachings, and from the seed of their idea thousands and thousands of lives have been touched. Might both be stories that tell us something about abundance created out of compassion and shared commitment?
I don’t think there is any neat and tidy answer about miracles. Maybe the message is only this: We are not supposed to believe the impossible, but every once in a while it shows up anyway, just to keep us on our toes, reminding us to keep all the doors and windows of our being wide open. It is not impossible that we, ourselves, might be the ones to make miracles.
She loves to quilt and all kinds of creative activities, especially upcycling the old into the new. She teaches sewing in a free program for unsheltered or community sheltered folks so that they have a change to learn new skills and explore their creative selves. She recently taught a sewing class to Somali women as part of a job-training program.
Rescuing feral kittens from under a neighbor’s deck ten years ago launched her into the work of feral rescue.A few of these cats have been tamed over the course of time and have been her beloved friends. Last winter, she finally had to put down a cat she found 13 years ago on a -25 night in Minnesota. In spite of the odds, they became beloved friends and proved the impossible; many cats can be socialized and loved long after the experts say there is no hope. Her cats taught her about patience, taking one small step at a time, and the power of hope and trust.
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