My son loves French Toast – with melted cheese for extra calories. This morning, I got up early to make it and as I poured the last few drops of olive oil from the bottle into the pan, I smiled because it was just enough for what I needed. It reminded me of the Biblical account of the widow and her jars of oil. This morning I identified with her as a woman in crisis – although for altogether different reasons. It is funny how the mind wanders when you are doing really mundane things. (I will return to the widow and her oil shortly.)I thought about the word “crisis” and what it really means. This is where the diachronic language studies switch is flicked and the etymologist in me splutters to life for a while out of sheer curiosity. While reading about the etymology of the word, I stumbled across some gems. We generally tend to think of a crisis as some kind of trouble but interestingly enough the origin of the word points to “a time of decision and judgement”.
The word first appeared in English texts around 1500 and was inherited from Latin which in turn got it from the Greek κρίσις (krisis) < κρίνω (krinō) which denoted “a turning point in a disease” as it was used by Hippocrates and Galen. Our understanding of the word is fairly recent but prior to that it referred to a point in an illness when the patient either took a turn for the worse or improved. The Greek root is said to go back to the Indo-European word meaning which denotes “to discriminate”. I find myself at a particularly curious juncture in my life and am faced with several options and realize that there are some decisions that I have to make.
I stumbled across another gem – Torschlusspanik. This German word which literally translated means “gate-shut-panic” is used to describe a midlife crisis. It denotes the fear of being on the wrong side of a closing gate. The term originated from medieval peasants who were terrified of being locked out when the castle gates were closing when an attack was imminent. I have written about midlife crises a few times and generally in terms of the male ego and their foolish attempts to soothe it.
However, today I realized that I am having my own Torschlusspanik of sorts but not in the conventional sense of the word – no I am not turning into a cougar… In my case, my Torschlusspanik is more about critical life decisions which will forever change the direction of my life.
The notion of crisis as a decision point, is rather comforting. I guess the fact that you have decisions to make implies a measure of control. That brings me back to the widow and her oil. Has your emotional pantry been as bare as Mother Hubbard’s cupboard? I guess the biblical widow arrives on everyone’s emotional doorstep at some point in time.
Don’t you get annoyed when your widow has arrived and everyone tells you it is going to be just fine, that things will work out and be just fine? Isn’t that like putting a band aid on a gaping wound? Then there is the cliché that Time heals all wounds. It doesn’t. All that Time is able to do is to make it more distant, put some space between you and what happened. It doesn’t heal anything. I don’t know how or what it does that does the healing but it certainly isn’t Time.
I just wonder what went through the widow’s mind when Elisha asked her what resources she had in her home. She replied that she had nothing but a little bit of olive oil but it was barely enough to meet her immediate needs. Can you imagine the incredulity of her expression when Elisha told her to collect empty jars from all her neighbours - as many as she could find? The story goes that she and her two sons borrowed jars from her neighbours, took them inside and behind closed doors, filled them to the brim with olive oil from the widow’s jar. The oil kept flowing until the last jar was filled and then it stopped. It was just enough.
This morning when I dribbled the last drops of olive oil into the pan, I realised that a bottle can only contain so much and at some point it will be exhausted. I think human beings are the same – we have a limited capacity for heartbreak and for stress, but do we have a limit in terms of what we can give? Are we finite in terms of our capacity for giving and for loving or are we like the miraculous jar – overflowing with abundance and the ability to give and give and give when your reserve light is glowing red? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could be as adaptable as oil – to fit our circumstances and crises as oil is able to mould itself into the shape of the bottle? I’m beginning to think that an act of love that fails is just as much a part of the divine as an act of love that succeeds because I wonder if love is not measured by its own fullness rather than by its reception.
I guess it boils down to two things – taking stock of what you have and doing something unusual with what you do have rather than wishing for what you don’t; and secondly taking a leap of faith and giving what is there so that it can morph into something new. Isn’t it sad that too often we allow ourselves to be defined by others’ opinions and value judgements on our sense of worth and our place in this world?
Isn’t it ridiculous that when we find ourselves suddenly at a crossroad or crisis in life, we tend to think of ourselves as having “only this” or “only that”. We define our position and our self worth in terms of our current heartache or crisis. I think we minimise who we are and what we can do because we tend to see our “only-ness”. I think it is this Only-ness syndrome that keeps us trapped in suspended animation. I realised today that I have had the same mindset as the widow – one of “only-ness”. When she was asked what she had, she replied “nothing… only a little bit of oil.”
I realised that all too often women fall into this trap – we give all we have to give and when the relationship lies in ruins at our feet, we believe that we have nothing more to give – as if the failed relationship has confirmed our worst fears about ourselves and we question our lovability.
So there are decisions to be made in this Torschlusspanik of mine.
Some have told me to follow my heart. That is the problem – how can I follow my heart when it is waiting around for the rest of me to make a decision? And decision I reckon is a risk rooted in the courage of being free. Perhaps I have been living my life too much as I-could-have-beens instead of I-tried-to-do’s. I can see that I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I intended to be. I have come to accept that sometimes the ground may shift between my feet and I may lose my footing. I may stumble and when that happens I will naturally grab what is close to me and hold on as tight as I possibly can.
Recently, my emotional larder has been rather Spartan like – much like the widow’s – with only enough oil to keep me going and sometimes not quite sufficient. Today, a precious friend told me what to do with my little bit of oil – empty it out- surrender what you do have and let it go – fill up the empty jars around you that are crying out for some substance.
In a sense all of us become like the widow at some point in our lives – desperate, lost, broken and with no immediate solution to a looming crisis. Elisha listened to her with compassion and understanding and when he asked her what resources she had to work with, she responded by saying she had nothing but a little bit of olive oil in a jar. I think we all tend to do that – see the “nothing but” side of things and in doing so reduce ourselves and our possibilities to “only a little bit of olive oil in a jar”. Think about Moses who replied that he only had his staff when he had to visit the Pharaoh, David had only a slingshot and a few pebbles to defeat Goliath, Samson had a jawbone when he faced a lion, and the disciples had five loaves and a few fishes to feed a multitude. In each case, it required a leap of faith and surrendering the little bit that they had.
Interestingly enough, if you look at the Chinese character for faith “xin” also means “trust”. The Chinese character for faith shows a “Man” (radical at left) standing by his words. So, “stand by your words” is synonymous for trust and faith in Chinese. Making a decision, emptying my oil jar to give me the capacity for filling new empty vessels with abundance, will require a leap of faith, trust and standing by my words. And the beautiful thing about the story of the widow and the oil, is that the miracle took place behind closed doors. The miracle takes place inside of us. I guess what the caterpillar may consider the end of the world, the master will call a butterfly. As I grow to understand life less and less, I seem to live it more and perhaps the real magic wand lies in the mind…
