It is the bread which the Lord hath given you to eat.- Exo_16:15.
1. The Israelites were now led farther away from all the associations of their accustomed life. From the waters and the palms of Elim they marched deeper into the recesses of the desert, haunted by fierce and hostile tribes such as presently hung upon their rear-guard and cut off their stragglers. Nor had they quite emerged from the shadow of their old oppressions, since Egyptian garrisons were scattered, though sparsely, through this district, in which gems and copper were obtained. Here, cut off from all natural modes of sustenance, the hearts of the people failed them. Most people, we may fear, would choose to live enslaved rather than to die free men. But there is a special meanness in their regret, since die they must, that they had not died satiated, like the firstborn whom God had slain: “Would that we had died by the hand of Jehovah in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the flesh pots, when we did eat bread to the full; for ye have brought us forth into this wilderness, to kill this whole assembly with hunger.”
2. The manna which miraculously supplied the wants of Israel was to them an utterly strange food, the use of which they had to learn. Thus it was another means of severing their habitual course of life and association of ideas from their degraded past. And while we may not press too far the assertion that it was the “corn of heaven” and “angels' food” (i.e., “the bread of the mighty”- Psa_78:24-25, R.V.), yet the narrative shows, even without help from later scriptures, that it was calculated to sustain their energies and yet to leave their appetites unstimulated and unpampered. For they were now called to purer joys than those of the senses-to liberty, a Divine vocation, the presence of God, the revelation of His law and the unfolding of His purposes.
The manna of the Peninsula of Sinai is the sweet juice of the tarfa, a species of tamarisk. It exudes in summer by night from the trunk and branches, and forms small round white grains, which partly adhere to the twigs of the trees and partly drop to the ground; in the early morning it is of the consistency of wax, but the sun's rays soon melt it, and later in the day it disappears, being absorbed in the earth. A fresh supply appears each night during its season (June and July). The Arabs gather it in the early morning, boil it down, strain it through coarse stuff, and keep it in leather skins: they pour it like honey over their unleavened bread: its taste is agreeable, somewhat aromatic, and as sweet as honey. In a cool place it keeps for long: the monks of the Sinai monastery store samples of it, which they sell or give to travellers and pilgrims, as their predecessors did, thirteen centuries ago, to Antoninus. According to Ehrenberg it is produced by the puncture of an insect (now called Gossyparia mannifera). It softens in the heat of the hand, and consists almost entirely of sugar; so it cannot be “ground,” or made into “cakes” (Num_11:8). It is not found in all parts of the Peninsula. It is found only after a rainy spring, and hence frequently fails altogether. The quantity yielded by the Peninsula in modern times is small-according to Burckhardt (in 1816), 500-600 pounds annually.1 [Note: S. R. Driver.]
Smooth and green are the pastures,
Rich is the meadow, and fair-
But oh! my Shepherd, my Shepherd,
Thou art not there.
Art Thou, then, in the desert
Where there are stones-not bread?
Is it there-not here-that with manna
Thy flock is fed?
There that, famishing, fainting,
Perishing for Thy Word
The sheep shall meet with their Shepherd,
And not on the pleasant sward?1 [Note: Margaret Blaikie, Songs by the Way, 41.]
3. The great lesson taught by the gift of manna was that of dependence-“your heavenly Father careth for you.” This message was to be spoken to them every day by the voice of the manna for forty years. There is always enough for gratitude, but never enough for greed. A daily supply for daily need. Tomorrow must wait till it comes. God was teaching them to live a day at a time. He who rushed forth and began to scrape and pile, saying within himself, “I make hay before the sun shines, there is no telling what may happen to-morrow,” found on the morrow that “it bred worms and stank.” Every day's event was to lead them afresh to look up for the day's supply. So He taught them to pray-“Our Father who art in Heaven, give us this day our daily bread.”
So long as men live by bread, the far away valleys must laugh as they are covered with the gold of God, and the shouts of His happy multitude ring round the winepress and the well. No scene is continually and untiringly loved, but one rich by joyful human labour; smooth in field; fair in garden; full in orchard; trim, sweet, and frequent in homestead; ringing with voices of vivid existence. No air is sweet that is silent; it is only sweet when full of low currents of under sound-triplets of birds, and murmur and chirp of insects, and deep-toned words of men, and wayward trebles of childhood. As the art of life is learned, it will be found at last that all lovely things are also necessary;-the wild flower by the wayside, as well as the tended corn: and the wild birds and creatures of the forest, as well as the tended cattle; because man doth not live by bread only, but also by the desert manna; by every wondrous word and unknowable work of God.2 [Note: Ruskin, “Unto this Last,” §§ 81, 82 (Works, xvii. 10).]
4. But in this lesson lay further disclosures of truth.
(1) There is a tragic power in physical discomforts to destroy spiritual aspiration-or the danger of penury (Exo_16:1-3). The people had set out from Egypt in a mighty enthusiasm to meet Jehovah and to learn His will, but within a few weeks the hardships of the wilderness had driven from their minds all longings but those for “a square meal.” It is the old warfare between the senses and the soul-the old temptation to magnify the things seen at the expense of the things unseen, to imagine that the tangible has more real substance and is more satisfying than the spiritual. Bound for the mount of God, men long for the flesh-pots of Egypt. Perhaps the pathos of it all is even greater than the folly of it.
(2) Sufficiency is better than satiety-or the danger of riches (Exo_16:4-5). “A day's portion every day,” and on the sixth day-i.e., at a crisis-a double amount! A needed lesson in every land. It is hard for some men to avoid excess in their habits of life and exaggeration in their modes of thinking, and to accustom themselves to the idea of adequacy, of proportion, which means harmony, which means serene, abiding joy.
(3) As against the wear of penury and the waste of riches, the manna-gift teaches us the lesson of the helpful discipline of daily needs. As a wilderness product and emblem of its scanty fare, the manna stands for the hardship of the wilderness (Num_11:4; Num_21:5). As such it may properly symbolize the bread which is eaten in the sweat of the brow in life's pilgrimage, the bread that stands for the struggle of life. Shall we hate this fare as the Israelites did, and let the struggle embitter us; or shall we look for a higher meaning in this struggle? For manna is also the symbol of God's chastening love, given to prove Israel and to do them good (Exo_16:4; Deu_8:3; Deu_8:16). And so the bread which stands for the struggle of life may also stand for its perfecting discipline. The sting of the struggle is then drawn; its bitterness is changed to blessing. But the manna is also “bread of heaven” (Neh_9:15) and as such a symbol of God's loving providence; so the bread of daily life may symbolize, not only a struggle to be endured, a discipline to be patiently acquiesced in, but a providence to be gratefully accepted and enjoyed. But, finally, the manna is transmuted into angels' food (Psa_78:25); so the bread of daily life, symbol of bitter struggle, of loving discipline, of kindly providence, is at length refined into an earnest of still higher gifts, and the manna, originally a symbol of the desert, becomes in the end a type of Christ Himself (Joh_6:30 f.) and of the heavenly joys (Rev_2:17). Shall we not find Christ Himself and spiritual joy in the discipline of our daily life? In the thought of the manna-gift the grace at table should become one of the most beautiful of spiritual exercises, instead of, as it often is, one of the most meaningless of forms, and the petition, “Give us this day our daily bread,” expands into an all-inclusive prayer.
I hope, friend, you and I are not too proud to ask for our daily bread, and to be grateful for getting it? Mr. Philip had to work for his, in care and trouble, like other children of men:-to work for it, and I hope to pray for it too. It is a thought to me awful and beautiful, that of the daily prayer, and of the myriads of fellow-men uttering it, in care and in sickness, in doubt and in poverty, in health and in wealth. “Panem nostrum da nobis hodie.” Philip whispers it by the bedside where wife and child lie sleeping, and goes to his early labour with a stouter heart: as he creeps to his rest when the day's labour is over, and the quotidian bread is earned, and breathes his hushed thanks to the bountiful Giver of the meal. All over this world what an endless chorus is singing of love, and thanks, and prayer. Day tells to day the wondrous story, and night recounts it unto night. How do I come to think of a sunrise which I saw near twenty years ago on the Nile, when the river and sky, flushed with the dawning light and, as the luminary appeared, the boatman knelt on the rosy deck and adored Allah? So, as thy sun rises, friend, over the humble housetops round about your home, shall you wake many and many a day to duty and labour. May the task have been honestly done when the night comes; and the steward deal kindly with the labourer.1 [Note: Thackeray, Adventures of Philip.]
