by Susan Hornstein '25
Sometimes, especially when life feels tough, we become hyper-focused on the troubles and miss things that are right in front of us. Sometimes that “thing” can even be God’s might and power.
As Bnei Yisrael are leaving their enslavement in Egypt, they encounter a seemingly insurmountable obstacle: the Sea of Reeds. God performs a wondrous miracle, splitting the sea so that Bnei Yisrael can pass through on dry land. And, to top it off, God returns the sea to its original form just in time to drown the Egyptian army pursuing them. Bnei Yisrael are ecstatic; they erupt in song. But after three days of travel, in the very next episode recorded in the Torah, they have no water to drink and complain to Moshe. Moshe cries out to God, who provides potable water. Then the next episode: the people are hungry and they complain to Moshe and Aharon. Again God provides for their needs, instituting the manna, the daily portion of food that would sustain them throughout their time in the wilderness. And immediately after the story of the manna, a third complaint arises, again that they are dying of thirst. This time, God tells Moshe to strike the rock, providing water for Bnei Yisrael once again.
What’s going on? Don’t Bnei Yisrael remember being saved at the Sea of Reeds? Didn’t the Torah tell us “the people feared God, they had faith in God and in God’s servant Moshe” (Shemot 14:31). Where is that faith now, when they need sustenance in the wilderness?
Abraham Maslow, the 20th century psychologist, proposed a hierarchy of needs, suggesting that physiological needs take precedence over psychological needs in people’s daily lives. He outlines various gradations of needs, placing food, shelter, and clothing at the very basis of the hierarchy, feeling safe and loved in the middle, and morality and meaning at the top. The top is where we would really like to get, but the bottom is a prerequisite, and each successive level is a prerequisite for the one above it.
Maslow would say that when one is hungry and thirsty, as Bnei Yisrael were in the wilderness, there is no room for thoughts about God, faith, and contentment. He would surely have given Bnei Yisrael a pass, saying that they were rightly concerned about their physiological needs first, and that their complaining was the only power they had to get their needs met. But still, couldn’t they remember the power of God, demonstrated just a few days before this, and trust that God would take care of them?
It seems that Bnei Yisrael are so very focused on subsistence that they have no awareness of God at all, despite all that God has done for them. In fact, each time they complain, they direct their complaints to Moshe—or Moshe and Aharon—but not to God. The Torah reflects on this lack of awareness after the third complaint episode, when renaming the location where it occurred:
The place was named Massah (trial) and Meribah (quarrel), because the Israelites quarreled [there] and because they tried God, saying, “Is God present among us or not?” (Shemot 17:7).
God redeemed them from Egypt. God split the sea and brought them across. God killed the pursuing Egyptian army. God responded to their cries for water and food three times. But they still seem unaware of God’s presence in their lives.
The final episode of the parsha is the war with Amalek. This occurs in the very next verse of the Torah, immediately after this third complaint. Rashi comments that the immediacy of the attack by Amalek implies that the attack was God’s attempt to raise their awareness of God’s own presence and power. Rashi illustrates this with a parable from Midrash Tanchuma:
R. Levi declared: This situation may be compared to a child that is being carried on his father’s shoulders. When he sees something that excites him he calls out: “Father, take me there.” The father carries him to that place, and then to another and finally to a third place, yet the child, on seeing another man approaching them, asks: “Have you seen my father?” His father calls out: “You have been riding on my shoulders, and wherever you wished to go I carried you, yet now you ask ‘Have you seen my father?’” He then put him down. Whereupon a dog rushed at the child and bit him. Similarly, when the Israelites left Egypt, He surrounded them with clouds of glory, and when they wanted bread, He sent them manna…And when they wanted meat, He gave them quail…And though He gave them whatever they demanded, yet they asked: Is the Lord among us or not? The Holy One, blessed be He, said to them: This is what you have been thinking. Therefore, this dog will bite you. Hence, And Amalek came (Midrash Tanchuma, Yitro 3).
It is deeply uncomfortable to analyze world and personal events, and even Biblical events, and attribute them to punishment from God for specific transgressions. We risk blaming victims for their misfortune and demonizing people for their behavior. Even in our own lives, this type of approach can be both self-flagellating and disempowering. On the other hand, not seeing God’s hand in our lives can leave us feeling unmoored and uncared for by our Creator. And indeed, the attack by Amalek brought an end to the cycle of complaining, at least for a while, and brought Bnei Yisrael one step closer to Har Sinai.
There is so much demand for our attention. We must provide for ourselves and our families and not lose sight of our fellow humans battling wildfires, suffering from anti-Semitism, living in fear of war and terrorism. So many of our worries are at the subsistence level: food, shelter, and personal safety. It is no surprise that it can be difficult to focus on our spiritual lives, on the power and presence of God. I challenge each one of us to find a moment of each day for gratitude to God. One thing we can be grateful for. Perhaps this can act as a flotation device to help us rise out of the base of the hierarchy of needs and access the higher levels of spirituality, creativity, and holiness.
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Susan Hornstein is an educator and a lifelong student. Susan holds a BA from Brandeis University and a PhD in Cognitive Psychology from Brown University. She grew up in Boca Raton, Florida, where her family was instrumental in founding the Jewish community. Susan completed a long career in User Experience, designing computer systems and websites so that their users would be able to understand them. Susan is a founder and gabbait of the Women’s Tefillah Group of Raritan Valley, where she works on education and inclusiveness. She has served on the boards of her Modern Orthodox synagogue and mikvah. Susan is also a musician, and is the conductor of the Central Jersey chapter of HaZamir, The International Jewish Teen Choir. She lives in Highland Park, New Jersey with her husband, and has three grown children, one in the Washington area, and two in Israel, all working in Jewish education.