“Did you bring money?,” I asked Kristy as we sat down near the front of the church. “We’ll need something for the offering and I forgot to write a check.”
“I don’t think so,” she replied. “Do you have anything?”
“No. I never carry cash.”
“Then we’re those people, I guess.”
If you’re going to go to church, you have to toss something in the offering plate, especially if it’s not your first visit. As we’ve been regularly attending the local Unitarian-Universalist service, we should know better. We’re starting to meet people, for Christ’s sake. We wouldn’t want to be deadbeats, but it looked that way.
Today’s sermon was about Hanukkah, the celebration of a miracle in which one day’s worth of lantern oil somehow lasted for eight days. The moral of the story, or so it seems, is that we must have hope in the face of despair.
As the sermon ended, the collection began, and we both looked in our wallets, just to make sure. Buried deep in one of my wallet’s folds was a single dollar. Kristy found two more singles in the bottom of her purse. We looked at each other.
“It’s a Hanukkah miracle,” I whispered. Something that should not
have been there was there.
I hurriedly folded the bills into a wad where the denomination was not immediately apparent, just in time to drop it in the plate.
We aren’t deadbeats, just cheapskates. What a miracle!