Bread from Heaven
The First Presbyterian Church in Springfield
Rev. James K. Poinsett, Pastor
September 18, 2011
Twenty-fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time
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The whole congregation of the Israelites complained against Moses and Aaron
in the wilderness.3The Israelites said to them, “If only we had died by the hand of the
LORD in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the fleshpots and ate our fill of bread; for you
have brought us out into this wilderness to kill this whole assembly with hunger.”
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Then the LORD said to Moses, “I am going to rain bread from heaven for you,
and each day the people shall go out and gather enough for that day. In that way I will
test them, whether they will follow my instruction or not.5On the sixth day, when they
prepare what they bring in, it will be twice as much as they gather on other days.”6So
Moses and Aaron said to all the Israelites, “In the evening you shall know that it was the
LORD who brought you out of the land of Egypt,7and in the morning you shall see the
glory of the LORD, because he has heard your complaining against the LORD. For what
are we, that you complain against us?”8And Moses said, “When the LORD gives you
meat to eat in the evening and your fill of bread in the morning, because the LORD has
heard the complaining that you utter against him—what are we? Your complaining is
not against us but” against the LORD.
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Then Moses said to Aaron, “Say to the whole congregation of the Israelites,
‘Draw near to the LORD, for he has heard your complaining.’“10And as Aaron spoke to
the whole congregation of the Israelites, they looked toward the wilderness, and the glory
of the LORD appeared in the cloud.11The LORD spoke to Moses and said,12“I have heard
the complaining of the Israelites; say to them, ‘At twilight you shall eat meat, and in the
morning you shall have your fill of bread; then you shall know that I am the LORD your
God.’“
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In the evening quails came up and covered the camp; and in the morning there
was a layer of dew around the camp.14When the layer of dew lifted, there on the surface of
the wilderness was a fine flaky substance, as fine as frost on the ground.15When the
Israelites saw it, they said to one another, “What is it?” For they did not know what it
was. Moses said to them, “It is the bread that the LORD has given you to eat.
Exodus 16:2-15 (NRSV)
It is a very exciting day at our church. Today marks the beginning of a journey,
several journeys actually.
The choir, sounding as great as ever, is ready to lead us on a journey of song and
music in the coming year. The kids begin a new year of Sunday school in our House of
Bread program. Their journey will take them through the stories of faith. Confirmation
started this morning. Eight students will go on a journey to claim the promises of faith for
themselves.
And this afternoon we will begin a journey of a different sort. I hope that all of
you will return for the Service of Installation. It is alright to go to church twice in one
day, and the Phillies and Eagles both play tonight, not this afternoon.
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At this service, the Presbytery of Philadelphia will formalize our relationship as
congregation and pastor. Though we have been together a few months already, we
officially begin our journey together this afternoon. We embark on a journey into the
future, into the future to which God is calling us. Along that journey, God will shape us
into a new kind of people, a new kind of community.
The journey is an important biblical motif. Images of journeys illustrate the life of
faith, trust, and dependence that are the defining virtue of God’s people. The journey is
an image of transition. Often it is characterized by a certain detachment from the things
that give us comfort and make us feel secure. Faith’s journey can be marked by
uncertainty, and sometimes includes spending time in the wilderness. Many times it is
only when we look back on a journey that we are able to see God’s presence with us
along the way.
Our text from Exodus today recounts the significance of the journey of the
Israelites for the life of faith. The Israelite people had been living as slaves in Egypt. God
heard their cries and freed them from Pharaoh’s grasp and promised them a new
homeland flowing with milk and honey.
Moses and Aaron led the Israelites out of Egypt and through the Red Sea. From
there they began a period of wilderness wandering. The Israelites were no longer in the
land of slavery, but not yet in the promised land either.
Just as the journey is an important biblical motif, the wilderness is a powerful
biblical metaphor. It is a metaphor that pretty much everyone relates to at some level.
Speaking of a time in your life as “something of a wilderness experience” is a common
and instantly recognizable description.
The metaphorical wilderness is what experts call a “liminal space.” That is to say
it is an in-between space, a space that is neither one thing or another. The old is left
behind, but the new is not yet found. And so it is an unsettled place, a place of wandering,
and wondering, and waiting.
The people of Israel have escaped into the wilderness. They are fleeing from cruel
slavery and oppression. They staged a mass breakout and fled into the wilderness,
searching for God’s promised land.
The circumstances that lead us into the wilderness can vary considerably. We can
flee into the wilderness. We can be driven into the wilderness. We can stumble into the
wilderness. We can venture deliberately into the wilderness.
Often we can find ourselves in the wilderness unwillingly. We have neither
ventured forth in hope, nor fled some terrible past. The past was comfortable and
desirable. We had no wish to leave. But something happened. A loved one has died
unexpectedly. Or a scandal has rocked a small community. Or we’ve been injured or
downsized or bankrupted or heartbroken.
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The old is gone and, though yearned for, can never be recovered. There is no
promised land in sight yet. If there are brighter days ahead, we can’t see them yet, and it
is hard to even imagine them.
Like the Israelites in the desert, we can see only the barrenness of what we are
trudging through now, and the only alternative we can call to mind is the one we have left
behind. Even the land of slavery began to look good. From out in the wilderness, the
bread of slavery looks like Tastee-Kakes.
But there is no going back. It is the nature of these liminal experiences that the
break with the old is irrevocable. A young adult cannot return to being accepted as a
child. The bereaved cannot resurrect their loved ones. The community cannot return to
the innocence it enjoyed before the shattering news was made known. If there is a way
out of the wilderness, it is only by passing through to the other side, never by going back.
The question of how we might get back out of the wilderness inevitably arises in
our minds. But the real question is: how will we survive in the wilderness until we find
our way through to the other side?
The wilderness, by definition, seems harsh and inhospitable. It feels unsafe, and
barren, and devoid of the necessities of life. And to make it worse, we usually find
ourselves somewhat at odds with one another in the early stages of a wilderness
experience.
In the Exodus story, some of the people began to grumble against Moses and
Aaron and blame them. Still others were ready to push on right away. No one is
necessarily right or wrong. They are all just dealing with it differently.
Some of that is even bound to happen in our own congregation as we move
forward together. The person sitting next to you will probably see our present situation
very differently from you. Some may think we are going too fast, others may think we are
going to slow. Some may think we are wallowing. While others may think we are
sweeping things under the carpet in our haste. Some think they can already see the
promised land. But some others think they can too but they are not looking in the same
direction.
That can happen even when you are in your own personal wilderness. One part of
you is going this way, and another part that way. Different feelings and perspectives
come into conflict within you. Even if you want to flee your own personal wilderness,
you can become paralyzed about which direction to run.
So how does one survive on the wilderness journey? And where is God? One of
the great paradoxes is that God often most clearly and strongly with us in our wilderness
experiences. But it is usually only afterwards that we can see that. The liminal experience
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of being in the in-between is actually one that breaks down our defenses and makes us
more open to God. But we can’t always see it at the time.
You can see some clues as to why in the experience of the Israelites’ wilderness
journey. As harsh as their experience of slavery had been, they tended to associate the
presence of God with the wealth and splendor and power of Egypt. When the king is on
his throne and everything is carefully ordered and under control, we imagine we are
seeing the blessings of God.
And yet the Exodus story calls us to recognize that not only is God one who can
and will overcome such challenges, but that God is then encountered in the wilderness,
and God will feed us in the wilderness. The wilderness journey will not destroy us,
because God is with us in the journey. The wilderness place will not see us starve,
because God is there and God will provide.
The wilderness place may well deprive us of things we thought we needed to
survive. But God is there and God will provide us with what we really need. And God
will reform and reshape us for the new life that lies ahead of us, the life to which God is
calling us.
To a people who thought they were about to starve along their wilderness journey,
God provided quail at night, and manna bread in the morning. It was not what they
expected. In fact the word “manna” comes from the expression “What is it?” The bread
that God provided from heaven was not anything they recognized or anticipated. But it
was what they needed. And it was God’s gracious gift in their time of need.
In our story from Exodus, God acknowledges not only the Israelites’ need for
assurance, but also God’s desire to shape them as a different kind of people, a different
kind of community. In the ritual practice of daily gathering of food that falls from
heaven, they will learn, with their very bodies, to come to trust in God.
And that is an important lesson for us. There’s depth to real Christianity, it’s
complicated, and ridiculously demanding. When we think of the Israelites in this story,
the word “chosen” comes to mind. Not chosen – as in who’s out and who’s in, for that’s
not Christ’s way. Not chosen – as in being more desirable or in a place of greater
privilege or ease – for that’s not Christ’s way either.
The chosen ones of Israel are those who have entrusted their lives to God’s care.
Those who have taken the harrowing journeys and contended with the hard questions,
and performed the duties and responsibilities of life together, all because they know to
whom they belong.
Whatever your wilderness; whatever your response to the wilderness, God is here.
God knows your need. God will be with you. God will feed you and see you through.
You won’t be the same when you emerge. We are all changed on the wilderness journey.
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But if we feed on the bread from heaven and respond to the call of God, we will be a new
creation – renewed, transformed, redeemed.
We live in uncertain times. Doubts and fears are prevalent in many realms of life. Just as
the Israelites were tested then, we are tested now. But just as God was watching over the
Israelites, God is watching over us now – watching and listening, preparing to give us
what we need.
Thanks be to God. Amen.