At once comical and cosmic, there is something  in the way man complains, even when Heaven is feeding him. In the wilderness, where logic would say all things perish, God instead sends bread—not baked by human hands, but falling like dew upon the dust, as if the stars themselves were shedding crumbs. The Israelites, ever the connoisseurs of captivity, grumbled for garlic and leeks, yet God gave them manna—mystery made meal. It is the grand jest of divine mercy: that when man is at his most miserable, God is at His most generous.

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