Manna, Minimalism, and My Grandpa Lenny
“Take all you want but eat all you take” is a phrase my Grandpa Lenny acquired while he served in the army during WWII. He dropped that wisdom bomb at mealtimes with such frequency that it lives on in my entire family. A meal rarely passes without someone uttering it.
In parshat Beshalach, God sends manna down to the Israelites to nourish them on their journey out of Egypt and commands them to take no more than they need. All excess became maggot-infested by morning. I couldn’t help but think of the aforementioned Lenny-ism.
The commentators offer up many different opinions. Ibn Ezra suggested that through manna, the Israelites were learning to trust that God would provide for them. Rashi taught the manna was a test—would the Israelites follow divine instruction? Sforno pointed out that taking what was needed created a sense of gratitude and sufficiency.
But why does this verse resonate with a secular Jew like myself? What relevance or application does it have in our current context?
As someone who has jumped on both the minimalist and zero waste bandwagons (with much room to grow), I think this particular passage can serve as a guide to life outside the consumer culture and land of excess in which we live today.
With the media (both social and traditional) constantly and persistently feeding us new things to buy or want or “need”, we’re being conditioned to feel like what we have is NEVER enough. Opportunities for comparison are endless, even if we know on a rational level that more clothes, the latest iPhone, or overindulging in food fails to exact lasting happiness and fulfillment.
Grandpa Lenny’s refrain used to haunt me in the supermarkets and during mealtimes, but as I’ve journeyed deeper down the rabbit holes of minimalism and sustainability, his wisdom guides my choice to live as best as I can outside the societal norms of comparison and consumption. In a world that is set up to make us feel like we need more, perhaps the real wisdom of Beshalach does lie in trusting that what we already have is enough.
I’ll leave you with some prompts to chew on. Grab a pen and your journal or a loved one for conversation:
What does “enough” look like for you?
What would it mean to take only what you need?
What is the next thing that you are seeking? What would it look like to pursue it with your insights about what you need and what is enough?
