If religion is the opium of the people, why shouldn’t convents sell hallucinogenic elixirs?

Miracle at the Convent of Sainte Marie-Jeanne turns the monastery shop into the laboratory of a business that is as thriving as it is out of control. The successive arrival of customers, police officers and drug dealers accompanies the gradual transformation of a charitable enterprise into an illicit trade. Religious vocabulary begins to merge with the language of marketing: faith becomes a brand, the miracle a sales promise, and saving the convent the argument used to justify every compromise. The farce thus explores how a good intention can, step by step, provide its own justification for increasingly dubious practices.

The final return to the original formula reveals, however, that the elixir’s true active ingredient lies in the belief of those who consume it. A new label is enough to prolong both its effects and its success, as though the story attached to the product mattered more than its actual composition. The play therefore does more than simply mock religion or commerce: it reveals their shared power to turn a collective fiction into an effective reality. Like theatre itself, the miracle works as soon as everyone agrees to believe in it.