more than sufficient

Da-dayenu, Da-dayenu, Da-dayenu . . .
So we sang during one of the songs of this evening's traditional Seder Meal: four hours of meditational readings, songs, commemorative food-tastings and wine-drinkings, and a traditional meal. Not being an official part of the Jewish community, we gathered in this way in order to prepare for Resurrection Sunday. And I found it deeply meaningful: one in a series of profoundly significant rituals and practices, that have all culminated in a sense of wonder at God's gracious patience with my recent tendency to rush through the cycle of faith with little attention paid to healing power of the practices. There is a depth to ritual that has a way of piercing through the hardness of our hearts, allowing God to touch us even when we are at our least deserving, our most distracted . . .
Da dayenu . . . "It would have been sufficient . . ."
But our God is not a "sufficient" God, is he? No, our God is a God who delights in the art of creation, who confounds out limited expectations, who demands our awe. So it would have been sufficient--but it was not all that was offered . . . all that was offered was all there was to offer.