 Manna in a Mayonnaise Jar © 1997 Ginger Henry Geyer glazed porcelain with gold 6" x 3 ¾" diameter Adaptation of 15th c. “Master of the Manna”, The Gathering of the Manna As we drove by a brand new Russian Orthodox church in Washington, D.C., a friend told me a story about its interior. Several craftsmen and iconographers were brought over to create a traditional iconostasis and to paint richly ornamented ceilings and walls. One of the final steps involved burnishing the fragile gold leaf. One day while “rubbing the saints”, the painters looked down below to the humorous sight of several priests twirling in their black hassocks, trying to catch the bits of gold leaf that had flaked off during the burnishing. The nave sparkled as rays of light picked through the golden dust. Catching bits of gold leaf is a rather futile exercise; just handling five square inches of it is hard enough. This image of gold floating down resembled the giving of the manna from heaven. For the hungry Israelites in the wilderness, this food was far better than gold. At first they quizzically asked, “What’s it?”, a phrase that gave manna its name. Regardless of how much extra they tried to collect and hoard, they could salvage only what was needed for that day; hence “give us this day our daily bread.” Any extra manna gathered would spoil, with the exception of that needed for the upcoming Sabbath. That manna could be placed in a jar. Probably a big earthenware jar then, but today if we had to grab a big jar, it might be a mayonnaise jar. A jar full of manna, functioning sort of like a reliquary, also was supposed to go into the Ark of the Covenant, along with the tablets of the Ten Commandments. Scripture is unclear about this jar's later existence. The poem on the mayo jar combines the story of the new church with the manna story. Just like us, the ancients tried to collect and hoard their miracle. They griped about it, got tired of it, and wanted something novel instead. How too we forget the miracle of our daily bread. How we confuse it with gold.  It rained gold leaf when the painters rubbed the saints. Priests dizzy with good fortune opened their cassocks for the ungatherable glitter. The scaffolds shook, an echo filled the empty nave: “Holy waste like manna-- more tomorrow!” What's it? The people want tickertape they sandwich their prayers between slices of living bread, complain about the taste, demand a substitute spread, and forget that fireflies perish in reliquaries. The painters know how to mix the holy and the common: “When you store a miracle in a simple jar, remember to leave off the lid.” |