Rabbi Charles P. Sherman
Winston R. Rothstein Bar Mitzvah
Shabbat B'shallach
January 22, 2005
The Bread of Heaven
The incident Winston read to us about from Exodus 16 occurs just six weeks after our People's departure from Egypt. Incredibly, our ancestors seem to have already forgotten the bitterness of slavery. They turn on Moses and say: "Why did you take us out of Egypt? So that we might starve in the wilderness?" In other words, their hunger for food has quickly surpassed their hunger for freedom. "It would have been better to have been slaves back in Egypt; at least we got our food there. Out here in the desert we are free, but that seems to mean that we are free to starve to death."
This is a faithless people. I remind you this is the People who had just witnessed – only six weeks earlier, with their very own eyes – the dividing of the sea and the drowning of the overwhelmingly powerful Egyptian army. They are safely free at last, but all they can think about is their stomachs. This is an example of highly selective memory – they forgot all that was bad in Egypt, and remember only the food.
God, of course, is disappointed that the Israelites have so little trust in the Divine. But God patiently answers: "I will cause bread to rain down on you from the heavens." However, God sets four conditions. 1) That the people all go out to gather it. 2) That they collect only one day's supply at a time. 3) That they rise up early to gather it; if they wait until the sun comes up, it will melt; and 4) A double portion will fall on Friday – but none on the Sabbath.
Now we know that this substance was called "manna." It had a fine and flaky consistency like hoar frost. When the Israelites first saw it, they said to one another: "What is it? Man hu." Which may be the origin of the word "manna." There is a striking similarity between the Hebrew man hu and our own English word "menu." They are not etymologically related, but it does suggest some resemblances. Like the menu presented in a restaurant, manna contained a wide choice of foods. According to the rabbis, each Israelite found in the manna whatever type of nourishment he preferred. There was no need of cooking or baking it, nor did it require any special preparation, yet manna contained the flavor of every conceivable dish.
Without changing its color or texture, manna adapted itself to the nutritional needs of each individual. To the nursing child it tasted like the milk of its mother's breast; to the young adult it provided the dietary requirements needed for growth and strength and it tasted like bread and meat; for the elderly who had lost their teeth, it proved easy to chew and digest; to the sick, manna tasted like barley steeped in oil and honey; for women it fulfilled an additional function, it could be used as a perfume. It was truly bread from heaven. Let's see what we can learn from this food which our ancestors ended up eating daily for 40 years in the desert.
First, everyone had to go out and gather it. You could not send a committee, a servant or slave to do the work for the rest of the people. This new society which was being formed was not going to be divided between the idle rich and the workers. The Torah set out to uproot a concept which was at the core of the Egyptian economy – that the world is divided into two classes, the rich and the workers. No, no. In this new desert community, one who wished to eat must go and gather.
Second. A person could only gather one day's portion each day. This is a warning against greed. You see, some people wanted to gather more than they needed. Maybe they had little faith that there would be manna there again tomorrow. What happened was that any surplus became infested with maggots; it would rot and spoil. If their eyes were too big and the Israelites became greedy, the manna would turn sour. So many of us have big eyes when we are already so blessed and yet cannot see it. It seems to be a quirk of human nature – we are never satisfied. This day by day lesson of the manna was to be an antidote to greed; it makes no sense to pile up more than we need.
The third condition was that they had to rise up early in order to gather the manna; otherwise, it would spoil before they brought it in. Is this not a warning against laziness? Do not lollygag; get up, go to work, put in an honest day's labor, and you will reap your reward.
The fourth rule I believe is the most significant. The Israelites were instructed to gather a double portion on the sixth day, and not to try to gather any manna on the seventh day. God wanted to teach our ancestors, and through them all people, to be free human beings and not just money-making or bread-gathering machines. So God ordained for us a day of rest. This was the essential difference between the bread of Egypt and the bread of heaven. To get the bread of Egypt a person had to be a slave to his job. To get the bread of heaven a person only had to work six days a week and could rest on the seventh day.
One of the greatest contributions Judaism has given to the world is the gift of the Sabbath – the idea that humans have the right, the privilege, and the duty of resting at least one day each week. The human soul needs a chance for spiritual expression, just as the body needs an opportunity for physical regeneration. When we have all that we want and even more than is enough, we can still be unhappy. Pleasures and self-indulgence do not necessarily bring contentment. The human being needs something beyond food and pleasure.
There is a need for the creative, spiritual life expressed by the Sabbath. This is the day which provides physical rest for the sake of the soul. It gives us the leisure to turn to activities which we often neglect during the busy work week. When we refuse to change our pace, to give up our involvement in the struggle for ever more worldly goods, that is when we burn out. The manna was a vivid reminder that there is one day on which you will not find food on the ground; do not try to gather any. Rather, use that day for the improvement of your own soul, your own life.
To this day, in traditional Jewish homes, we have a reminder of the manna on our Sabbath table. We have two challot as a reminder of the double portion which fell on the sixth day. It is a statement of faith that if we try hard enough during the six days of the work week, we shall have enough to eat as we rest on the seventh. The two
challot are a weekly reminder of the manna and a weekly expression of trust and faith in God, a declaration that God can be counted on to provide us with enough seven days a week, even if we only work for six.
The manna stopped raining from heaven on the day that the Israelites entered the Promised Land. From then on they had to earn their own living by the sweat of their brows, because only one who earns his own living is truly free. But a person should never be so foolish as to think that whatever he or she earns is only by one's own achievement, that we are self-made men and women – there is no such thing as "self-made" people. No matter what field of endeavor we may be in, we do our work with the assistance of others and with the help of God.
A rabbi may appear to be standing and preaching this sermon before you, teaching a lesson all by himself, but that is not the case at all. By virtue of the education I received from my teachers, with the support of the people who built this synagogue and the congregants who maintain it, with the help of God, that is what enables me to teach. And so it is with a doctor, a lawyer, an engineer, a baker, everyone who works in any field. None of us are self-made, and none of us could do our work without the assistance of others and the help of God.
Whoever does not know that truth eats the bread of Egypt and not the bread of heaven. Whoever sends his errand boys out to work for him and sits back in smug superiority and arrogance eats the bread of Egypt. Whoever rises late and works without enthusiasm does not eat the bread of heaven. Whoever piles up more than he needs, more than he can spend, does not eat the bread of heaven. And whoever does not trust God enough to rest, but drives himself to work constantly and to gather more and more and more does not eat the bread of heaven.
At the outset of our ancestors' wilderness wandering, God says: "I will send them bread from heaven in order to test them, to see whether they will walk in My ways or not." May we be worthy of passing that test.
When we look at the challah on our table, may we think for a moment of where it comes from and what it really means. We Jews do not say "Baruch ata – blessed are you", O farmer; or "baruch ata – blessed are you" O baker, even though we know that the farmer and the baker have a hand in the making of bread. Rather we say "Baruch ata Adonai – blessed are You, O God." For we know that it is through God's help – through the sun, the rain, and the strength that God sends us – that we are able to have bread. When we look at the two challot, may they remind us – as they did our ancestors – that there is a limit to how much we need to earn and that there is a God who can be trusted to labor with us as we work. Amen
This message is based on the work of Rabbi Jack Riemer, and I am grateful to him.
