Our group of five newly registered chaplaincy residents gathered for the first time with the obligatory “get acquainted” exercise. After selecting from 20 or so very random photographs spread around our meeting space, we were to explain what resonated with us.
The photos were of the most abstract things imaginable: a silhouette of a child standing alone at dusk on a beach, a collection of greasy nuts and bolts on the floor of a mechanics shop, two flowers in a mason jar vase on an open windowsill that were barely visible against the sunlight.
My selection was a lone discarded Coca-Cola bottle cap on a sidewalk.
I was initially drawn to it because several months had passed since I enjoyed an ice-cold Coca-Cola or soda of any kind. I gave up my multiple-sodas-a-day habit for health reasons. I literally shivered when I saw the photo. (Please keep me in your prayers.)
It is my humble opinion (and recollection) that bottled Coca-Cola tastes much better than canned. Perhaps it is the sensation of the cold glass in my hand coupled with the icy beverage against my lips. The bottle definitely helps.
I do recall being fascinated by an elementary school lesson of how Coca-Cola ingredients are mixed in each bottle, individually, by a robotic system. Each is then tested by the same system to insure consistency and quality.
But the most important element in the process is the bottle itself. Its history and development are epic. Each bottle initially resembles a test tube and is blown up according to the exacting standards of the company. The contours and grooves on the bottle help to manage the temperature of the contents while the bottle is held. In fact, the Coca-Cola Company originally asked manufacturers to submit designs for a bottle that was so distinct that it could be recognized by feel in the dark or identified lying broken on the ground.
The resulting bottle is an iconic work of art. The drink within is likewise renowned, non-duplicatable and second to none. Yet, all of this ingenuity and uniqueness would go to waste if the bottle were not sealed properly.
The “crown cork bottle cap” was the 1892 invention of an Irish immigrant named William Painter. When he arrived in America, he was 20 years old.
If Painter had arrived in America in 2017 – a brilliant future inventor, a dreamer – he could be facing deportation. Not for anything criminal, but simply because one administration wants to challenge the policies of another. And if Painter had deported so soon after his arrival, the world would never have known what it meant to pop open an ice-cold fizzy bottle of Coca-Cola on a balmy summer afternoon.
When we think of quenching our thirst, how often do we think deeply about of the container? Admittedly, before I knew this story I never thought about the bottle caps or the one who created them.
Now that you know, does it matter that he and his family were immigrants who contributed to very large part of our identity?
There are many Scriptures addressing how we should treat immigrants and strangers. Paul encouraged the church not to neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it (Hebrews 13:2).
I’m willing to call Painter an angel.
Maybe it’s because I miss Coca-Cola. Maybe it’s because I’m from Atlanta (home of Coca-Cola), went to the Coca-Cola School (Emory University) and know how a cold drink can halt the effects of the Georgia midday sun. Or maybe it’s simply because I never met him and I’m willing to trust God. I trust God to bring people into my life, my space, my community and the world I live in to make it perfectly what God wants it to be.
CARLTON JOHNSON is the operations officer for Johnson C. Smith Theological Seminary in Atlanta. He also serves as president of the Atlanta chapter of the Association for the Study of African American Life and History.
