Loaves and fishes and toilet paper: love in the time of COVID-19

By Brandon Blinkenberg, CC BY 2.5

It's the most poignant thing I've seen in the COVID-19 epidemic so far: A four-pack of toilet paper tucked into the basket at the back of the church where my parish collects non-perishable items for the food pantry. Usually the basket is full of peanut butter and jelly, soups and tuna fish, coffee and the occasional pack of diapers. But on Sunday, there were four rolls of toilet paper.

I'd been to the grocery store on Friday, seen the shelves stripped of toilet paper. Yet here was someone who was not hoarding what they did not need this moment, someone who trusted that there would be some for them if they were in need. Or perhaps someone unconcerned that they might find themselves short sometime in the future. This is what love looks like in the time of COVID-19. It was a challenging generosity in a time when we are being asked to literally (though hopefully not metaphorically) distance ourselves from others.

I thought, too, of the loaves and fishes. Four rolls? Against the needs of how many this week or next who will need help? Will the rolls multiply at need? Perhaps not, but their presence has made me think how can I be a multiplier of what is needed — without being an incubator multiplying the virus.

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What am I hanging on to that I need to loose my grip on so that those in need might have it? What can I give up to keep people safe? My in-person classes, going to Mass?