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Proper 20

Exodus 16
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.’
4 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?’
13 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.


I looked for you in my neighbourhood.

Every year, a million people come to the Danforth, and I wander around looking for people I know. Simple math, right? Two-and-a-half million people in the city, a million come to my street, I’m gonna see you and say ‘hi.’ Maybe you were saving yourself for a taste of Poland, which continues this afternoon. Maybe the beer is better.

Having welcomed a million friends to the neighbourhood over the years, you begin to see changes. When I first went to Taste of the Danforth, they didn’t even close the street to traffic, adding some excitement to your traditional souvlaki. Then the premise seemed to change, going from cheap samples to an obvious attempt to make money, from a dollar for that burnt pork stick to $3.75.

Some changes are good, of course. Corn-on-the-cob was a nice addition, and watermelon too. But some just leave you scratching your head, like the first time I saw quail. Before I go on, I should confirm there are no quail farmers out there, no one who has written the definitive quail cookbook, or anyone keeping a quail as a pet?

Good, because they seem like foolish food. I did my research, and it turns out they are lazy little things, flying only when they absolutely need too, and otherwise just hiding in the long grass. And they’re dangerous, not like ‘quails attack’ but dangerous in that they can become poisonous depending on what poisons they eat while migrating. Even Aristotle, as early as the 4th century BC, said ‘watch out for that little bird.’

There is even a warning in the Bible, in Numbers 11, a warning that quails can kill. I would give it to you to read as homework, but it’s too pressing to ignore, so we better look at it while we can.

When Doug read Exodus 16, you were likely thinking ‘I know this…fleshpots…manna from heaven…gather what you need…quail in the evening…nice to have a little meat.’ All very familiar. But what about the uncensored version, the version of the story that doesn’t give it the nice polish, the version that the writer of Exodus would rather you didn’t read? For that, we have Numbers 11.

In Numbers 11, they are already tired of the gift of manna. ‘The rabble began to crave other foods,’ it says, and then they make a list: ‘If only we had meat to eat! We remember the fish we ate in Egypt at no cost—also the cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions and garlic. But now we have lost our appetite; we never see anything but this manna!’

Now Moses hears all the grumbling, and he begins to grumble too, not because he wants meat, but because he’s in charge, and is getting more than a little tired of all the complaints. ‘God,’ he says, ‘did I make you angry? Is that why you’ve given me this burden? I didn’t conceive all these people, I didn’t give birth to them, so why me? Where on earth will I get meat for this crowd? If this is how you’re going to treat me LORD, then just kill me now. (that’s verse 15, if you decide to quote it while dealing with teenagers)

So the Spirit of the LORD came upon Moses, and give him words to speak: ‘Consecrate yourselves in preparation for tomorrow, when you will eat meat. The LORD heard you when you complained. Now the LORD will give you meat, and you will eat it. 19 You will not eat it for just one day, or two days, or five, ten or twenty days, 20 but for a whole month—until it comes out of your nostrils and you loathe it.’

Before I continue, I want to say that whenever something arrives with ‘you’re gonna eat it until it comes out your nose and you’re going to be sick of it,’ you might want to reconsider the whole thing.

So a wind came up, and drove in a flock of quail from the direction of the sea, and the quail were piled high in every direction, and the people gathered all they could manage. More barbecues appeared than a NASCAR weekend, and they finally had what they wanted. We pick up the story at verse 33:

33 But while the meat was still between their teeth and before it could be consumed, the anger of the LORD burned against the people, and he struck them with a severe plague. 34 Therefore the place was named Kibroth Hattaavah, because there they buried the people who had craved other food.

It’s not really suitable for Sunday School. A little too edgy for the kids, poison quail and Kibroth Hattaavah, which literally means ‘graves of craving.’ But we’re all adults here, and we can spot a warning when we see one. And while God may have stopped the whole business of killing with quail, it does serve as a tidy reminder to be satisfied with what you have.

So how do we respond to this unedited story of longing and woe? How do we internalize all the anger and the disappointment? How do we integrate what we’ve learned with what we do? We want our quail.

In 1950, the average house was 800 square feet, by 1970 it nearly doubled, and today it is four times the size. We want our quail.

In Canada, greenhouse gas emissions, chemicals like carbon dioxide, methane, nitrous oxide are four times the world average, better than Australia, but worse than the U.S. We want our quail.

In the U.S., 70% of all economic activity is based on some form of consumption, buying and using stuff, and just before you begin to feel all smug, Canada is not far behind at 60%. We want our quail.

There are 72 million credit cards in Canadian wallets owing together a staggering 72 billion dollars, up from 50 billion in 2004. We want our quail.

We want our quail. We want our quail and eat it too, and it even gets worse: we want money for nothing too.

Doug also read the story of the workers in the vineyard, a personal favourite, and also a story that if read alongside the story of the prodigal son, pretty much tells you all you can know about human nature and God’s inexhaustible grace. To recap:

A vineyard owner went to the market at six and hired some workers for his vineyard, promising them the usual daily wage. He hired more at nine, and noon, and at three o’clock. At five, he found a few more, and said ‘still standing around and no one has hired you yet? Get to my vineyard.’

Evening came, and the owner told the foreman ‘pay the wages now, but start with those hired last.’ So the foreman turned to those hired at five and gave them the usual daily wage. By the time those hired early in the morning stepped forward, they were expecting a far greater wage for a long day in the sun, but they too got the usual daily wage. They shouted in anger, but the owner said, ‘have I not paid you what we agreed? Can I not spend my money as I choose? Why should my generosity make you so angry?

Well, because we want our quail. The Israelites were promised the usual daily wage of one omer of manna, no less, no more, but they wanted quail. The workers in the vineyard agreed to work for the usual daily wage, but when they saw what some others got it without breaking a sweat, they wanted more, they wanted some quail.

So is this an Israelite problem? Or a problem for the Matthean brotherhood of vineyard workers, local 20? No, it seems to be a human problem, a problem without beginning or end, stretching from Sinai to Galilee to oil-soaked Alberta and even self-righteous Ontario. We want our quail.

And if God is no longer putting a little poison in our quail, just to get our attention, how will we learn the way of contentment and the need to be satisfied with what we already have? How will we learn to say, ‘quail, no thanks, I’m already full’? How will we learn to accept the usual daily wage, without always longing for more?

The first answer, this one from Jesus himself, is pray. ‘Give us this day our daily bread,’ he taught them, which was never a prayer about getting bread, but about getting a daily portion, like an omer of manna, and feeling satisfied. There is more wisdom about overcoming the urge to consume in those seven short words than any others I know.

The second answer, also from Jesus, is found at table. Indicating the cup and the bread he said, ‘take this and share it among yourselves,’ and taking the bread, he broke it, and said ‘this is my body broken for you, every time you break bread, remember me.’ Broken and shared, the communion is Christ himself, redeeming the whole world, where no one gets a greater share.

The final answer is from God: The God who is generous beyond measure, even to point that the generosity makes us angry, remains generous. We can rail against it, we can demand less for some and demand more for ourselves, or more for others and less for ourselves, but the daily portion remains, grace upon grace, love that knows no end and forgiveness that never fails, amen.

posted by michael jacob kooiman @ 6:18 AM