Holy Mosaic

Holy Mosaic

(“Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit.” 1 Corinthians 12:4)

Everyone wore the same standard-issue smiles,
the aisles were filled with processed cheeses and
pressed meats of the day. The truth is, though no one
knew it,
we all wanted it that way.

There were always a few more fascinated with
ethnic groceries. There were always some who
came simply for the stories.
Why not sit on the wooden steps eating a
bahn mi
and listening to the prayer call from the mosque
only a few blocks away. There were a few
who knew they could hear the lilt of the Spirit;
still and slightly reverberating in dialects they
could not recall.

Everyone reacted to the suggestion that
the Spirit transcends religion. Everyone favored
style over substance. Some wanted soups,
others mosaics. Some wanted melting pots,
others orchestras. The Spirit

Blew in from all corners. She inhabited
the air in restaurants and alleys. She filled
soon and later with breath that
brightened eyes and rainbowed kitchens.
She always showed up.

There were always a few who did the dishes
inspired. Laughter and splashing just happened
to be the language they had agreed upon. The
Spirit danced gleefully.