"Father, it's too cold in church". "Father, it's hot in church, do something about the air conditioning!" "Boy, Mass was so long today, I should have brought coffee." "You know, it's almost not worth coming if I can't spend at least an hour." "Why do we have to sing so much?" "Why do they play so loud?" "Can't we have a quiet Mass so that I can pray?" "What's with these office hours? Why can't they be there when I want them?" The litany goes on. I've had people ask me how I put up with it sometimes. I try to listen and reflect rather than react. Then again, some say "He never does anything about it."
I mention this not because I have had a rash of complaints. Maybe there are, but I'm still in Louisville, so I'm oblivious to the possibility. No, I mention it because the children of Israel in Exodus today, sojourning in the desert, were complaining. Nothing good to eat, nothing to drink, then this manna stuff, and quail, and water from the rock. We want more, we want variety, we want, we want, we want.
But our God is not only our champion, not only our redeemer, not only our savior, but he is also our provider. He is steeped in patience and extremely generous. He gives us the new manna, the new bread from heaven. He gives us the Body and Blood of his Son, broken and poured out for us.
In the Lord of the Rings trilogy there is an elfin bread called lambus. It is not much in looks or taste or substance (much like manna and our Eucharistic hosts), but a little will go a long way. It gives strength and sustains life. The elves are spiritual beings, "heavenly" creatures, angels (if you will) ... it is the bread of angels that the Lord gives to us - not manna or lambus - but his very self. Gratitude should be our song, and complaints far from our lips.
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