Anointing Oil
When I was a kid, I loved tasting 'anointing' oil. Hold on, let me explain... My mother would feed me a little bit of it when I was sick (cue James 5:14) and the taste of it seemed special, sacred, 'anointed'. I felt guilty about enjoying it- I reminded myself- this is serious business. It was for prayers, not for food. Even the brand name, 'GOYA' sounded exotic to me. I remember the sellers at Redemption Camp , sweating under the blazing sun, selling boxes of small oil bottles, bundles of pristine white handkerchiefs and bottles of water for religious purposes, pushing their way through throng of worshippers. In my teenage years, one of my friends confided in me that her sister had recently fried eggs with anointing oil. This was a bit jarring for me. 'We were out of cooking oil', she said, 'so she just used the tiny bit of anointing oil left to fry some eggs'. Why was I so shocked? Anointing oil was after all- olive oil. I would soon realise...
