Most of us try to be health-conscious, and the U.S. Department of Agriculture tries to help us out by telling us how many servings we should have per day per food group. For example, we're told that we should have at least six servings a day from the grain group.
But here's the problem: Take a bagel for instance. It's about six inches across, and an inch and a half thick, and weighs almost a half-pound! It’s not one serving; a bagel is about five or six servings by itself. Yet when we eat a bagel, we think we're being health-conscious.
In fact, when we eat just one bagel, we've pretty much had more than enough to cover the USDA minimum daily requirements.
This is "portion distortion," writes Lawrence Lindner in The Washington Post. People think they are eating like birds, but according to the government's definition of portion sizes, that's true only if those birds are vultures. This may be a large part of the reason for our expanding American girth.
Consider the bare facts. A serving of pasta, the government says, is a half-cup, cooked. That comes to about 32 strands of spaghetti, a mere four twirls of the fork. Other government-defined servings: 10 French fries, one- sixteenth of a frosted cake (about two fingers wide), and four to five ounces of wine, which would fill roughly half a teacup. Who eats those amounts in a sitting? Some couples consume an entire one pound box of spaghetti in a single meal.
So I guess we have something else to grumble about. It looks like the government should let someone with an average appetite decide how big a serving of something is – or at least base serving sizes on something realistic, something that won’t leave us hungry or skew our ideas of how much we really are eating.
Our text finds us in the wilderness with the people of Israel. This is the first taste of freedom most of them have ever known. The Israelites, these descendants Abraham, Isaac and Jacob had been in Egypt so long that the entire population had been born as slaves there.
In one of the most astounding displays of ingratitude in the biblical record, just one and a half months after being freed from captivity in Egypt, Israel began to complain to their leaders about traveling conditions, and even insisted that Moses and Aaron were trying to kill them in the desert by starving them to death.
They were hungry and the memory of meat and bread in Egypt clouded their memory of slavery and oppression. They didn’t remember the pain of the whip on their backs. All they could think about was the pain in their stomachs. They didn’t remember the tortures of slavery; they could only think about the fleeting pleasure of a meal.
Israel longed to return to Egypt, where the food was plentiful. They couldn't bring themselves to entrust their survival even to the God who had set them free. So they grumbled. They grumbled against Moses and Aaron. And of course, in doing so, they grumbled against God himself.
This first experience of doubting in the wilderness was not greeted, however, with a wrathful response from God. It seems that God had, all along, planned to provide miraculous provisions for these travelers.
But the Israelites are challenged to live on the portions of quail and
bread that the Lord gives them in the wilderness. Every evening, quails appear and cover their camp -- that's their serving from the meat and poultry group. And every morning, there is a layer of fine, flaky stuff called manna, which Moses says is the bread that the Lord is giving them to eat -- that's their daily serving from the grain group.
It was enough to live on, but it was also a strictly regulated portion. When some of the people attempted to stash some manna away for the next day, it would breed worms and become foul. And when others attempt to gather on the Sabbath -- a practice forbidden by God -- they discover that there is nothing there for them to gather.
All of which raises the question: Why are we so reluctant to accept the basic portions we are given? Why are the Israelites -- and each one of us -- hungry for more than we really need? This overly active desire to acquire raises issues of trust, contentment and moderation.
It's a trust issue, for starters. We tend to gobble more than our fair share when we fail to believe that God will take care of us tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow. Think of it as the "Poor-College-Student-at-the-All-You-Can-
Eat-Buffet" phenomenon. Maybe you remember when you were a student, eating tuna fish straight out of the can and cooking up 25 cent boxes of unnaturally orange-colored macaroni and cheese. You used to absolutely pig out whenever you went to a wedding reception, buffet dinner or all-you-can-eat restaurant. You went way overboard, because, you had wasted your food money and because you were about out of money, you didn't believe that another good meal was in your near future.
Unfortunately, some of us haven't outgrown those displays of graceless gluttony. We still pack away obscene amounts of food and drink. Because we do not believe that God will be as good to us tomorrow as he is being to us today, we max out our credit cards, and buy the biggest, best and smartest of anything we can afford. We want to have as much as we can get, right now.