“God’s Economy”

Exodus 16:2-4, 9-18

Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

First Congregational UCC, Manhattan, KS

October 12, 2025

There are some things you can know with your head, but you don’t really KNOW them until you’ve lived them, right? 

Like what it feels like to be hungry. You can think about what it’s like to be hungry, but unless you’ve actually lived the reality of not knowing where your next meal is coming from - well, you don’t really know what it’s like. 

The people in today’s story KNEW what it was like to be hungry. The whole congregation has been traveling together in the wilderness for about six weeks now. And the provisions they packed are running out. They’re hungry. Not in some “oh, I’m kind of worried our situation is precarious” kind of way but in a deep, know-it-in-your-bones, I-actually-have-no-idea-how-I’m-going-to-feed-my-kids-tomorrow kind of way. 

And so they know not only hunger but desperation. The frantic clawing of fear. 

And as they continue on this journey, they begin to know something else, too. They start to know regret. 

As absurd as it might sound to us, they dream of captivity. They wish that they could go back to being enslaved. They wish to trade their freedom for the security of three square meals a day. 

From the outside looking in, we can’t really know their desperation. The clawing anxiety. The hunger. It’s not even uncertainty they’re feeling - because things are looking pretty certain. It’s certain they will die unless there’s some kind of miracle. 

Moses and Aaron say to the people, “In the evening, you shall know it was the Lord who brought you out of the land of Egypt, and in the morning you shall see God’s glory. Because God is with you. God has heard your desperate cries. You are not alone.”

And so the people come to know something else that it’s hard to know unless you REALLY know it. Unless you’ve experienced it first-hand. They come to know God’s faithfulness. God’s provision and care. They come to know and trust that they are not alone. That they live in God’s world - who has created and is creating. They don’t know it as an intellectual exercise. They know it’s true like you know the sun is real - because you feel its warmth beating down on the back of your neck. Because they’ve lived it. 

We are told that God sends nourishment in a miraculous way. Bread and meat appears for them each day. And so they come to know God’s presence deep in their bellies. Because the raw, aching, gnawing grip of hunger abates. And they come to know that it was, indeed, God who brought them into freedom. And God who walks with them still. Morning and evening. Day by day. 

I’ve sometimes heard Biblical storytellers begin their stories like this: “I want to tell you a story from the Bible. I don’t know if this really happened, just like this, but I know that it’s true.”

This is one of those stories. It contains truth even if the details blow our mind a bit. Because the truth is: this isn’t just a story about something that happened in the past. It’s also a story about something so many of us have experienced here and now and in our own lives. 

We have experienced God’s faithfulness through miracles big and small - like finding an antidepressant that finally works (praise God!), or a phone call from an old friend at just the right time. We’ve had our days when a stranger offered a word of care that lifted us up, bound us back together, and gave us the strength we needed. We’ve known desperation - and received manna. And we’ve been manna for others, too. 

The SPECIFICS of this particular story, handed down to us by our faith ancestors, are fascinating. Moses tells the people that they are to gather what they need for everyone in their tent. 

Now, I’ve often heard this story told that “the people disobeyed” and some tried to hoard the food by gathering too much while others were lazy and didn’t gather enough. But, actually, the text doesn’t say that. The text simply says they went out to gather and some gathered more and others less - which is exactly what you might expect since some people had 2 people in their tent and others had 10. The text says when it all got measured, everyone had the exact right amount that they needed for their family. Whether this was some kind of cute, baby miracle or just how it worked out, we aren’t told. But the message is clear: God provides exactly what every person needs. Faithfully. 

Biblical scholar Robert Williamson, Jr. points out that these details make this more than a story about just manna. It’s also a story about the world God is inviting us to be a part of. God shows the people a new economy in this ancient story. [1] A way of living together where everyone has what they need. No longer are they enslaved to quotas of production and a system of scarcity that enriches a few while leaving so many in desperation. [2]

And God doesn’t invite the people to just imagine this or THINK about it. God invites them to try it out. To practice it. To really KNOW it by living it. Williamson says it’s as if God is using this liminal, wandering, wilderness time to show the people how it could be - how it should be - in this new world they are building together. 

One of my favorite social media follows is Vu Le, who is a brilliant leader in the nonprofit management world and absolutely hilarious. This week, he wrote about how we need nonprofits to “reclaim our vision for the amazing society we want to build from the ashes.” [3] He reminds us that there are some people in our society who have a very clear vision of the future. Tech billionaires know exactly what kind of world they want to build. Mark Zuckerberg wants a world where we’ve outsourced human relationships to AI chatbots. The CEO of Oracle envisions a world where everyone is “on their best behavior” because we’re all under constant surveillance. And Le says that Elon Musk and Peter Theil envision a world where we no longer need democratically elected governments because we’ve traded them in for a technocracy. 

Le reminds us that billionaires not only have a clear vision, they have the resources they need to make it happen. And that’s why it’s so important for those of us who have an alternative vision to keep shouting about it every chance we get. Le paints it like this: 

I think our ability to rise out of this horrible period and build something better depends on our ability to reclaim our vision and to inspire the rest of society to do the same. I want us to have a world where everyone has their basic needs like food and shelter taken care of. In this vision we’d already have made reparations for past injustices like slavery and stolen Indigenous land. Concepts like capitalism, racism, misogyny, transphobia, poverty, war, borders, and so on would be hard for people to remember or even imagine.

I want us to reconceptualize work so that we’re not beholden to it and our worth isn’t judged by how “productive” we are. I want people to spend most of their time creating art—writing poetry, painting, dancing, and making music, whittling small animals out of bars of soap, etc.—and for fun, not because they’re hustling trying to pay rent. Housing would be a basic human right, along with healthcare and education and other things people need to thrive. [4]

Isn’t that a beautiful vision for the future? I wonder if the people in Exodus started to dream dreams like that? I wonder if they went out in the  morning to forage for their daily bread and found themselves humming a little tune, imagining a future where everyone had enough. I wonder if they envisioned a world with more frolicking and less violence, more art and less fear. 

It sounds an awful lot like God’s Dream to me. You know, economics comes from the same Greek word as household. The economy is more than just the stock exchange ticker on the bottom of the news. The economy is a global household where resources are created, gathered, used, consumed, shared. Because we all truly share one global household together.

Through this ancient story, God reminds us that we are invited to consider what it would look like to live in a manna economy. A world where everyone has enough. A world where scarcity is a thing of the past. A world where God’s dreams can be realized. And just as the Israelites were invited to practice there in the desert, we are invited to practice, too. This is what it means to Be the Church. To live as if God’s economy were already so. To listen to the Spirit and encourage one another as we strive to build God’s Beloved Community together. 

You know, when we become members of this congregation we pledge to support it with “our prayers, our presence, our gifts, and our service.” In that way, we are practicing God’s Dream here. Practicing in this little corner of creation so that our hands and hearts might be shaped for ministry in the wider world. We practice here so that we can know - really KNOW through living it - that God is present. That God is faithful. And that we, too, can show up with our prayers, our presence, our gifts, and our service. Here and everywhere we go. 

This month, as we consider our financial pledges for the coming year, we are given this story as a conversation partner. 

It’s a story about God’s faithfulness. It’s a story about the One who dreams a world into being where everyone’s needs can be met. It’s an invitation to ponder how we can be a part of that through our own sharing of resources. And it’s a reminder that giving of any type - whether it’s time or money - isn’t JUST about keeping the lights on or getting volunteer slots filled. 

True generosity is an invitation to reorder our relationship to God, one another, and the world around us. It’s knowing - really KNOWING, deep in our bones because we’re living it - that there is enough in this world for all. Our job is to tune our hearts to God’s economy of abundance. 

In practicing generosity, we come to know - really KNOW - God’s faithful provision as we hear the ancient promise: 

There is enough. 

You are enough. 

Rooted in God’s love, we can build a world of enough - together. 

May it be so. 

Notes: 

[1] Bible Worm podcast for Oct. 10, 2021

[2] Isaiah 43: 18-19

[3] & [4] https://www.nonprofitaf.com/lets-reclaim-our-vision-for-the-amazing-society-we-can-build-from-the-ashes/ 

“From a Distance”

Luke 10: 25-37

October 5, 2025

First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS

Sermon by Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

 

In 1963, Michael Collins joined the 3rd class of NASA astronauts. In 1966, he exited and re-entered the earth’s atmosphere for the first time. In 1969, he orbited the moon 33 times as a part of the Apollo mission. And in 1974, he shared this observation in his memoir:

 

I really believe that if the political leaders of the world could see their planet from a distance of, let's say 100,000 miles, their outlook would be fundamentally changed. The all-important border would be invisible, that noisy argument suddenly silenced. The tiny globe would continue to turn, serenely ignoring its subdivisions, presenting a unified facade that would cry out for unified understanding, for homogeneous treatment. The earth must become as it appears: blue and white, not capitalist or communist; blue and white, not rich or poor; blue and white, not envious or envied.

 

I am not a naïve man. I don’t believe that a glance from 100,000 miles would cause a Prime Minister to scurry back to his parliament with a disarmament plan, but I do think it would plant a seed that ultimately could grow into such concrete action.

 

Michael Collins was a Catholic altar boy, so I have to think he had some familiarity with scripture. And I hear the echoes of the Apostle Paul in his words: “The earth must become as it appears: blue and white, not Jew or Greek; blue and white, not enslaved or free; blue and white, not male or female.”

 

Most of us will never be able to look at the earth from 100,000 miles away like Collins did. But all of us who profess to follow Jesus must struggle with the promise and demand found in the Apostle Paul’s words. Because there is a promise AND a demand there. It feels cuddlier to only focus on the promise part – as if Jesus will somehow magically wave a wand and take away all of the divisions in the world and make the Prime Ministers spontaneously scurry back to their parliaments with disarmament plans, and make the ICE agents unmask their faces, and make the war contractors toss and turn at night and realize that profiting off the murder and starvation of innocent children is not actually how they want to live their lives after all.

 

To hear only the promise in Paul’s words is to hold out hope that Christ will somehow magically bring all of this to pass.

 

But if we listen to Jesus himself, we start to see a slightly different picture. Jesus spent his time healing and sowing compassion, yes. But he also spent his time teaching us how to live. And when we pay attention to his words, we start to also hear the demand woven into the Paul’s promise of human unity.

 

******

Like Michael Colllins, Jesus was also big into thinking beyond boundaries. And today’s story is no exception. It’s one of the “greatest hits” of Christian scripture and it’s a two-fer. Not only do we get the well-known parable about the Samaritan on the Jericho road, we also get Jesus plainly stating the Greatest Commandment: to love God and love your neighbor as yourself.

We call it the Greatest Commandment, but at first glance it seems to be three commandments rolled into one. Love God. Love your neighbor. Love yourself. 

A wise person once told me that he had puzzled over this seeming contradiction for years: why, when asked for the SINGLE most important commandment, does Jesus accept the lawyer’s reading from scripture as the answer? It’s clearly three things, not one! Eventually, this person told me, they came to the conclusion that perhaps those three things are not as discrete as they seem. Perhaps, because we are made in God’s image and because God lives and moves within us, perhaps loving God, loving our neighbors, and loving ourselves aren’t as distinct as we think. Perhaps we are loving God whenever we love our neighbors. Perhaps we are loving God when we choose to love ourselves.

Perhaps the firm boundaries between me and you, us and them, heavenly and earthly are more porous. Perhaps when viewed from 100,000 miles up – or through Jesus’s eyes – the separation melts away a bit. And we can start to remember that loving God and loving our neighbors as ourselves truly is a single commandment.

It seems the lawyer himself was also a bit puzzled by the simplicity of this greatest commandment. Despite lifting it directly from scripture himself, he still has questions. He asks Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

Nothing like a legal type to get technical with the language. But Jesus takes it in stride, showing us once again what a fantastic teacher he is. He knows that stories teach and he weaves a story for this man. Simple enough for the youngest child to understand, yet it drives the point home in a way only a parable can.

 

The parable is, of course, that story of the Good Samaritan. For many of us, it’s well-worn and familiar. But it would have been quite shocking to those first hearers.

 

In essence, Jesus uses this parable to blow expectations wide open. The answer to the question, “who is my neighbor?” is both simple and terrifying. The answer is, “the person who takes care of you.” Or, as Frederick Buechner put it, “anybody who needs you.”

 

It’s not about where you live. It’s not about who looks like you. It’s not about who you vote for. It’s not about what denomination you are. 

 

No, it’s not about any of those things. Jesus says that our neighbor – you know, the one we’re supposed to love as ourselves – is the person who shows us mercy. Jesus says that our neighbor is the one that needs our care. The Samaritan is our neighbor not because he’s an outcast (though you could certainly find that argument many other places in Scripture) but because he offers care. The man in the ditch is our neighbor because he needs us.

 

It's such a simple and profoundly human story. All of us, every single one of us, has basic needs. We need water to drink and food to eat. We need to have our wounds tended to. We need to have a safe place to sleep, out of the elements. When you look down from 100,000 miles above, we humans all start to look a whole lot alike. We all need peace. We all need love. We all need each other.

 

I know you know this already. I know I’m not telling you anything new. But we seem to live in a world that threatens to undo these simple truths at every turn. Our spirits are constantly attacked by news of people turning against one another. We humans forget that we are all made in God’s image. We forget that every single one of us deserves a chance to simply live freely in a just world. 

And this is not an accident. Those who hold power are doing what Empire has always done. They consolidate their power by attempting to turn the rest of us against one another. They stoke fear and violence. They hide their faces while committing atrocities in broad daylight. They send troops into sleepy neighborhoods. They drop bombs and block supplies. And as each of these daily horrors is enacted, the message we receive is constant: protect yourselves from the enemy. 

But Jesus comes with a different way. Jesus doesn’t stand under the lights on a big stage. Jesus doesn’t ride in fancy jets or an armoured car. Jesus stands among the crowds, with everyday people like you and like me. He speaks their language. He loves to hear their questions. He reminds them that, like the lawyer in today’s story, they already have the answer within them. He affirms their curiosity. Again and again - by quoting scripture, through acts of compassionate healing, and with the power of stories - he reminds them of the main thing: Love God. And love your neighbor as yourself.

Zoom out to 100,000 miles if you can. Look at the beauty of this good earth spinning in space. Pause to take in the miracle that we exist here at all. Notice, like Collins did, that when you’re at that distance, this marble spinning in the black expanse looks quite different. The all-important borders are invisible. Those noisy arguments and yelling heads on our screens? You can’t hear them at this distance. 

The tiny globe continues to turn, Collins says, “serenely ignoring its subdivisions, presenting a unified facade that [cries out] for unified understanding… The earth must become as it appears: blue and white, not capitalist or communist; blue and white, not rich or poor; blue and white, not envious or envied.”

Blue and white, not a citizen of this country or that, not Russian or Ukranian, not Israeli or Palestinian, not a member of this political party or that one. You can’t see anyone’s immigration status from space either. 

What becomes very clear from this vantage point is that we are all of us neighbors. Spinning in the vastness of space on this planet we call home. 

The promise - and the demand - is as clear today as it was 2,000 years ago. There is neither Jew nor Greek, enslaved or free, male or female. There is humanity. Created in God’s image. Full of need, full of gifts. Languishing on the side of the road and mercifully stopping to provide care. 

Just us. Here. Together. 

May we accept the good news of the promise and fashion our lives to meet the demand. May we love God and love our neighbor as ourselves.