Living on Yesterday’s Manna

I remember when I was first introduced to the fascinating work of the Russian-French artist Marc Chagall. It was a bitterly cold winter in January 1988. It was with a group of Calvin College students studying philosophy at the Institute for Christian Studies in Toronto, Canada. On this particular day, we were touring a reformed Jewish synagogue in the city. While we were waiting for our host to arrive, we were admiring some prints they had hanging in their conference room. I wandered over to a group of girls, and asked, “Which artist is this?” To which they only responded with hushed giggles and one laughed out loud saying, “Can you believe he doesn’t know who Chagall is?” The next day I had my revenge. We were having a passionate class discussion about metaphysics and epistemology and she put forward an argument (which I can’t even remember now) that I quickly destroyed in front of the whole class. I actually made her cry. Every time I think about Marc Chagall I can’t help but think of this story. Standing in that conference room, even after the taunting, I became intrigued with his work.
His desire to paint was first expressed to his mother. He describes it this way, “One fine day as my mother was putting the bread in the oven, I went up to her and taking her flour-smeared elbow I said to her, ‘Mama, I want to be a painter.’ ” There is just something about fresh bread in the oven. Maybe it was his mother’s creativity in the kitchen that released his own desire to create, to paint. Maybe it’s the feeling when you walk into an Argentine panaderia or a Panera Bread store in the States. It’s a place of comfort, creativity, and relaxation. This week, I will be preaching on John 6 where Jesus says that He is the bread of life. But the people couldn’t understand what He was talking about. They were more interested in the ancient miracle of the manna. Come join us this Sunday. Taste and see that God is good!