The No Manna Miracle

Take a moment to read Exodus 16

This story is about the Israelites—the ones that were oppressed in Egypt by Pharaoh. The ones God helped escape with the dramatic parting of the Red Sea. The ones who were now complaining that life in the wilderness wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, and they would be better off in Egypt under Pharaohs thumb. They were whining because they were hungry.

I get it. I am NOT at my best when I am tired and hungry, but I wouldn't have blamed God for just ditching them out in the desert. But because God is God and not us, God sent quail in the evening and then in the morning covered the ground with this white substance. Manna, they called it.

The Israelites are told just to gather what they needed for the night—not to keep any of it until morning. But of course, there were those who felt like they better gather extra just in case there wouldn’t be any more the next day. And they were rewarded for their greed by waking up to a bunch of rotten, maggot infested food in the morning.

The quails and manna would be miracle enough, but the real miracle was yet to come. When the day before the Sabbath came, God told them they could indeed gather enough for two days and the manna would keep for eating on the Sabbath since the Sabbath was a day of rest.  But true-to-form, the Israelites got up and went looking for something that was just not there.

This is the miracle of this story.  God provided not only food, but rest. Food that spoiled on any other day remained fresh for the Sabbath. And just to make sure that people took the Sabbath, God provided no food for them to gather.  They had to stop and rest because there was no work to do, yet there was plenty for everyone.

 What if we woke up one day—doesn’t have to be Sunday—any day. What if we woke up and no one’s computer booted up, there was no cell service, the World Wide Interweb was down, cars didn’t run and televisions only displayed static? What if God made us stop by taking away all of the things that keep us running? After our initial frustration settled down, what might we do? Take a walk? Take a nap? Break out a board game?

In Jewish tradition, Sabbath starts at sundown on Friday. That exact time changes with the seasons, but there are no adjustments for daylight savings time or shorter winter days. When the sun goes down, you stop working and rest. That is Sabbath.

Sabbath is not dependent upon our readiness to stop. We do not stop when we are finished. We do not stop when we complete our phone calls, finish our project, get through this stack of messages, or get out the report that is due tomorrow. We stop because it is time to stop.

 If we only stop when we are finished with all our work, we will never stop--because our work is never completely done. With every accomplishment there arises a new responsibility. Every swept floor invites another sweeping, every child bathed invites another bathing, every report completed invites a follow-up response. When all life moves in such cycles, what is ever finished?

If we refuse rest until we are finished, we will never rest until we die.

 That is the gift of Sabbath. Wayne Mueller says “(Sabbath) dissolves the artificial urgency of our days, because it liberates us from the need to be finished.”

 So let’s go out on a limb and say that we can do this. We can actually be obedient to God. We can choose to stop. So pick a time. It doesn’t have to be a Saturday or Sunday. It doesn’t even have to be a whole day. Pick a time in the week to come when you commit to stopping. Even if the project (or the sermon) isn’t done. Even if there are dishes in the sink. Even if there’s no milk in the fridge.  Even if there are children demanding your attention or parents who need your help.  You stop. You rest.

What do you think? Can we do it?