Because there was little, the smallest amount went to the one with the most generosity. And they were repaid with the gratitude of the others, some who meant it and some who didn’t. But that wasn’t why they did it.
The Giant in his garden, the poor woman in the temple.
The old woman who gave up her seat on the train today, for a rugby player with multiple injuries. The train shook her as she rose, and the commuters held back, visibly waiting to fall on the seat to see who could get the greatest share. She waved him over. Down he came, hobbling with his crutches and broken up face. People parting in front of him like Moses’ sea. I smelled sherry from her as I rose to give her my seat, feeling hungover, but chivalrous all in all.
Perhaps we were all drunk, but perhaps the spirit went a little deeper than that.