The Talmud in Hullin (f. 87a) preserves a curious exchange between a Min — a heretic — and a rabbi, concerning the nature of wind and divine power.
The heretic approached the rabbi with what he believed was an unanswerable challenge. "Your God claims to control everything," the Min said, "but can He control the wind? The wind blows where it pleases. It topples houses, uproots trees, and scatters ships across the sea. No one commands it. Not even your God."
The rabbi studied the heretic calmly. "Come with me," he said, and led the Min outside to an open field. The wind was blowing fiercely that day, whipping dust into their eyes and tearing at their robes. The rabbi pointed to the sky. "You see how the wind rages? Watch." He lifted his hands and prayed. The wind died. The air went still. Not a leaf moved.
The heretic's jaw dropped. "This proves nothing," he sputtered. "It was a coincidence." The rabbi smiled. "Then let me show you something else." He prayed again, and the wind returned — but gently this time, a soft breeze that carried the scent of flowers. "God does not merely control the wind," the rabbi said. "He speaks to it. He tells it where to go, how hard to blow, and when to stop. The wind is His messenger, just as the angels are His messengers. You do not see the hand that moves it, so you assume no hand exists. But the invisible hand is the strongest of all."