"My Wonderbra is Wet": A Reflection on the First Reading for August 5th, 2018: Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

EXODUS 16:2-4, 12-15

The whole Israelite community grumbled against Moses and Aaron. The Israelites said to them, "Would that we had died at the LORD's hand in the land of Egypt, as we sat by our fleshpots and ate our fill of bread! But you had to lead us into this desert to make the whole community die of famine!"

Then the LORD said to Moses, "I will now rain down bread from heaven for you. Each day the people are to go out and gather their daily portion; thus will I test them, to see whether they follow my instructions or not.

"I have heard the grumbling of the Israelites. Tell them: 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."

In the evening quail came up and covered the camp. In the morning a dew lay all about the camp, and when the dew evaporated, there on the surface of the desert were fine flakes like hoarfrost on the ground. On seeing it, the Israelites asked one another, "What is this?" for they did not know what it was. 
But Moses told them, "This is the bread that the LORD has given you to eat."

Nineteen years ago, when my husband and I were newlyweds, we signed up for a cross-carrying pilgrimage along the West Highland Way, from Loch Lomond to the Benedictine Abbey on the island of Iona. It was springtime. It rained for the first three days. Despite my waterproof gear, I got so wet that the dye from my flannel shirt ran into my brand new Wonderbra. I was tired of hiking down mountains and up cattle paths, ankle-deep in mud. My feet hurt. I started complaining, first in my own mind but then to my fellow pilgrims, who were glad to join in. We wondered aloud why we hadn’t stayed warm (albeit bored) at home instead of setting out on this search for “something meaningful.” Our long-suffering guides, who had literally been down this road before, were patient in the face of it all.

Reflecting back, I count that pilgrimage as one of the richest experiences of my life. It taught me to appreciate that the Lord hears our complaining and provides, because He is a loving God.

I remember the immense gratitude I felt the evening I discovered that, while the rest of our group was at supper, two of our friends surprised us all by stuffing everyone’s wet hiking boots with newspapers so they would be dry in the morning. I remember the night my husband and I were offered a night’s rest in the only bed while our single friends bunked on the floor. I remember the companionable silence of carrying the cross with my fellow pilgrims across miles of quiet countryside. I remember how our joyful voices echoed along the stone corridors as we processed, singing, to the sanctuary of the abbey, and I knew the sore feet and wet clothes were worth it.

In this Sunday’s First Reading from Exodus, God hears the complaining of the Israelites who, led by Moses, have just begun their journey out of Egypt and are beginning to have their doubts. They are hungry and tired. They’ve been travelling for days, knowing they have many more days to go. Maybe their hiking boots are wet and their Wonderbras are ruined. They begin to see the life they left behind through rose-coloured glasses; they may have been slaves but at least they had enough to eat. So God, in His infinite mercy, sends quails to cover their camp and manna to cover the ground.

When I think back to my West Highland pilgrimage, I recognize that I began my journey as an Israelite in the desert, but I ended it in the promised land of gratitude. And instead of meeting me at my final destination, God walked with me along the way, feeding my body, nourishing my soul and teaching me to trust in His mercy.

​Donna Davis

"Instead of meeting me at my final destination, God walked with me along the way, feeding my body, nourishing my soul and teaching me to trust in His mercy." - Donna Davis (Ora Reflections)