Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, August 4, 2024
(click here to listen to or read today’s scriptures)
Manna and quail
The Israelite community grumbled against Moses and Aaron. “Would that we had died in Egypt, while we sat and ate our fill. Now we will die of famine in this godforsaken desert!”
Wheels roll. Wheels of time, into the eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time. Wheels of our car, through Illinois, Missouri, Arkansas, and Texas. Wheels of life, sometimes crushing us whether we thought we were out of the way or not, sometimes banding with us as we grab hold of the spokes and hang on for dear life. And for the fun of it.
And there is the wheel of fortune, which spins and spins and finally stops, winking at me and whispering, “No, you are NOT in charge.” Is God?
In charge? Do the various fortunes of his little created ones, made one at a time on an unusual assembly line that results in a unique person every time, matter? In Urbana a billboard for Krannert Center for the Performing Arts sang out, “I MATTER.” I loved it, and I also realized the billboard didn’t say why. I came from somewhere beyond myself, and I’m going somewhere beyond myself. What does the “I” even mean? And then there is the matter of “mattering.” I feel an untieable knot coming on. Two words might lock the wheels turning in my mind.
In the evening twilight you shall eat flesh, and in the morning you shall have your fill of bread, so that you may know that I, the Lord, am your God.
Yes, I know, I’ll eat a good breakfast and see how I feel then about mattering.
And it was a wonderful breakfast of perfect bacon, brown fried eggs, and moshi pancakes from Trader Joe’s, with a little iced coffee, just right. I don’t much care about mattering now, as I suspected would happen before we turned on the burners of the stove. Last week’s sermon about Elijah’s roller coaster life played online, the Olympics caught my attention for a bit, and Margaret and I talked about things that matter in our lives.
Not MATTER, like in philosophy and religion, but what matters to our bodies and the spaces in which we live. It was a quiet fulfilling, filling meal together. Our happiness rested.
In the evening quail came and fell all across the camp. In the morning came a heavy dew and when it evaporated, fine flakes covered the ground. Man ate the bread of angels, sent by God in abundance. And he brought them to his holy land.
Did those Israelites continue to grumble? Well yes, once they got tired of eating the same thing every day.
Paul wrote to his Ephesian brothers and sisters: do not live in the futility of your minds. Put away your old self and be renewed in the spirit of your minds. Put on the new self, created by God in righteousness, holiness and truth.
If I say I matter and think of no one else, that surely is what Paul means by the “futility of my mind.” Boredom, irritation and ingratitude flood my days. On the other hand when I say I matter and think how much others matter too, I can receive renewal from the Holy Spirit, and my mind invites me to put on my new self.
Then I can eat what Jesus gives me, first the bread and fish and finally the bread that lasts forever.
Sir, give us this bread always. Then Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst.”
(Exodus 16, Psalm 78, Ephesians 4, Matthew 4, John 6)
(posted at www.davesandel.net)
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