There is a powerful connection between food and Shabbat. The Torah first mentions Shabbat when the Israelites are instructed to collect the manna that fell from heaven, their source of food in the wilderness: Each day, they were to gather only enough to satiate their hunger. But on Friday, something different happened: They received a double portion. And then, on Shabbat, no manna fell.

This mysterious sustenance, which the Midrash refers to as “starvation food,” was meant not only to nourish but to teach. “I will rain down bread for you from the sky,” God says in Exodus 16:4, “and the people shall go out and gather each day’s portion daily—that I may test them, to see whether they will follow My instruction or not.”

This test was not only one of faith, but also a radical reframing of how we relate to sustenance. It asked the Israelites to let go of the fear of not having enough, to resist the urge to hoard in fear of tomorrow’s unknown, and to believe that Shabbat would somehow bring what they needed. Shabbat, then, offered a sacred pause from the constant striving, anxiety, and fears of scarcity of the rest of the week and instead, commanded faith that there would be enough.

Today, so many live in a reality where the idea of “enough” feels far away. In New York City, hundreds of thousands of people live with food insecurity, unsure of where their next meal will come from. Other fears of scarcity—what if I lose my job, what if the rent goes up, what if there’s no place for my family to turn–also loom large. 

Currently, these fears are being compounded as the federal Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP)–which helps millions afford food–faces severe threats. The current administration’s proposal would shift financial responsibility to the states (after 50 years of full federal funding), cut administrative support, and dramatically expand unrealistic work requirements. If enacted, it would force states to find billions in their budgets just to maintain current levels of support. 

America’s response to hunger has long been twofold: public policy, and private giving. Yet, charitable food programs account for just 1/16th of what public programs like SNAP provide. They are essential—but they are not sufficient.

In my previous work supporting low-income New Yorkers applying for and receiving SNAP, I met hundreds of families trying to survive on as little as $6.20 per person per day. Despite persistent myths, most SNAP recipients are members of families with older adults, children, or people with disabilities. Many are working families. And SNAP strengthens, rather than drains, local economies. Chronic underinvestment in SNAP administration has made it extraordinarily difficult for families to apply for and maintain their benefits, which I saw time and time again, especially while navigating a frustrating and often unresponsive city agency.

The “scarcity mentality” we battle the world over is not one of resources, but of will. The world produces enough food to feed everyone, meaning the current crisis of hunger in America and globally is an unconscionable crisis, reflecting our political and moral failures. 

It also is contradictory to the spirit of Shabbat.

As we move toward this Shabbat, take a moment to reflect on what it could look like to extend the abundance of Shabbat beyond our tables; to build a city, a country, a world where no one hoards, no one goes hungry, and every family experiences the peace of knowing where their next meal is coming from. The tradition of lehem mishneh–two loaves of challah on the Shabbat table representing the double portion of manna—reminds us that this abundance is possible.

This Shabbat, may we be nourished, sustained, and compelled to build a world where everyone can say: There truly is enough.

Shabbat shalom.

Kiana Davis