One For Picky Eaters - Exodus 16:2-15; Matthew 20:1-16

Last week, I got to spend an afternoon and evening with my niece. Spending time with her is one of my greatest pleasures, and it is never boring. On this occasion, for instance, I endeavored to navigate that great American enterprise…the elementary school carpool line. Parents who do this daily or even just regularly, you deserve more accolades for your patience and stamina.

It was touch and go there for a minute or two, but after successfully acquiring my cargo, we grabbed an after-school snack and set off on our next adventure: dance class. Now my niece has been dancing for several years, so she was able to maneuver us through the lobby like a pro, and thank goodness, because many of the other families were attending their very first dance class ever. There were toddlers. There were tutus. There were tears. Parents who do this weekly or even regularly, you deserve compensation for your organization and executive functioning.

I was a little stiff from sitting for so long, but two hours later we were back in the truck, and I was back in familiar territory. My niece and I have done dinner and a movie together dozens of times. We get the same pizza from the same pizza place, and she always gets to pick what we watch. Once we’d changed into our pajamas, I put two slices of pizza on her favorite plate and milk in her favorite cup, because I may not be a parent, but I do know that consistency is the most important element of the meal for a picky eater.

When our plates were made, I went in search of the remote control, and when I turned back around, I saw what no parent or babysitter wants to see. My niece was inspecting her first slice of pizza much too carefully. She eyed it. She sniffed it. She poked at a maddeningly unfortunate half inch of burnt cheese. I held my breath. Finally, she took a very small, very tentative bite, and deemed it satisfying. I exhaled. The night was saved. Parents of picky eaters, you deserve a Nobel Prize and early retirement.

I am hopeful that my niece will grow out of her picky phase, but if she doesn’t, she won’t be totally alone. Adults are sometimes picky eaters, too. This morning we find our old friends, the Israelites, in the wilderness, nearly overcome by their hunger. They don’t know exactly where they’re going, so they don’t know how long until they get there. They don’t have food and water to last, and no knowledge or skill for acquiring more. Their complaints feel extreme and dramatic, but in all fairness, their situation is dire.

As often happens, God’s action matches the intensity of the need. This is no small problem, and no small miracle would solve it. In a true watershed moment in the story of God and God’s people, God literally rains down bread for the starving people to eat. This is the perfect answer to their prayer, the simplest, easiest solution fathomable. And when they see this heavenly bread appear before them, they respond by quoting my niece: “mmm…but what is it?”

As I said, this is an important moment in the story, because we learn something critical about God that until this point has only been conjecture. We know that God creates, we know that God delivers out of slavery, and now, we know that God is deeply generous. There were a million ways God could have provided sustenance for the people, many of which would have included their labor, or at least, their patience. Instead, God gives this gift freely and repeatedly, and all the people have to do is bask in it. But they don’t.

Like my niece, they are unsure about this food because it is unfamiliar to them. They’ve never seen anything quite like it before, so it’s difficult to trust right off the bat. I imagine them sniffing and poking at it, trying to decide if it’s safe to take a bite. I can’t exactly blame them. And what’s more, not only are they unfamiliar with manna, they are also profoundly unfamiliar with generosity, so of course they don’t recognize a gift for what it is.

We might assume that generations later, after centuries of holy relationship, God’s people might become familiar with this essential quality of God. But we would be wrong. Our ancestors don’t seem to improve much when it comes to receiving God’s generous spirit. In our Gospel passage today, we hear another incredible story about the generosity of God, and not only do the characters in the story not recognize it, they reject it outright and demand something more.

The parable of the wealthy landowner is challenging. If an employer today had a practice of paying the same amount to someone who worked one hour as someone who worked eight hours, it would be an HR nightmare. And I can certainly understand the workers’ frustration from a labor rights perspective. Like those early followers of Jesus, we also live within a system that takes advantage of the vulnerable and their labor, and the aspect of God we’re looking for to save us is God’s justice, hopefully a justice that puts us on top.

But God has a different plan, and has chosen this moment, this context to reveal the magnitude of God’s generosity. And because we’re looking for something else, we do not recognize it. I imagine that many of us, upon reading and comprehending this parable for the first time, paraphrased my niece and said something like, “mmm…what is this?” And while we’re busy trying to make sense of the landowners’ payroll math, we miss the manna from heaven. We ignore this amazing example of unprompted generosity, and therefore do not see this beautiful glimpse of God’s character.

It’s the same in our every day lives. We slip so easily into obsession over our individual woes. We pray for particular attention from God to manage our particular situations and we hold out hope for very particular Good News. To our surprise, God often takes these opportunities to pour out love in a free and open manor that benefits whole communities, not just us as individuals. This is even better news than we could have hoped for, if we can recognize it. But that takes work. Can we learn to spot generosity when we see it, especially when we were hoping for or expecting something else? What would it look like if we oriented our prayers toward that mysterious manna from heaven, knowing it might surprise us?

My niece doesn’t know it, but she quotes Scripture all the time. As it turns out, the word manna does not come from the Hebrew for “bread.” It comes from the Hebrew for “what is it?” So, perhaps our initial confusion at God’s many gifts is part of a holy process of getting to know God and learning to recognize and even expect God’s generosity. Perhaps like many young, picky eaters, we grow into appreciation for nourishment over time. And these stories of generosity in Scripture assure us that God will always be waiting, perhaps with bated breath, for us to take that first satisfying bite, and know that God has given us everything we need and more. Amen.