No Food for Tomorrow – Blessing or Curse?
In this week’s parsha, Klal Yisrael complained about the manna, the miraculous “bread from heaven” that appeared out of nowhere every morning in between two layers of dew. Manna could not be stored; whatever remained melted away over the course of the day.
The complaint began with the asafsuf (roughly translated as the “rabble”), but soon spread to the entire nation (Bamidbar 11:4). They complained that they wanted meat, and that they “had nothing to look at except the manna” (ibid. 6). The Ramban explains that they were protesting the fact that they had no way of knowing what they would eat the following day. Each day required relying on yet another miracle. They all knew that if that miracle would not come, they would die of starvation.
Hashem’s response addresses the complaint about the meat, saying that the manna was an exceptional form of sustenance with a splendid flavor. The second point, however, remained unaddressed. Why? Was this complaint unjustified?
This surely can’t be the case, it states later about the manna (Devarim 8:13) that Hashem “tortured and starved you.” Clearly, their perception was correct, that living a life dependent solely on manna was an excruciating test. If so, why didn’t Hashem address this point when the nation raised their complaint?
Rav Eliyahu Lopian answers that indeed, depending on manna was a test — but only for those whose spiritual level was lower than what a Jew’s should be. Had they been holding at the proper level, they would have internalized the concept that Hashem provides every Jew with the sustenance he needs (Pesachim 118a). This concept would have been strengthened by their witnessing that day-in, day-out, the manna always arrived. Since subsisting on manna should not have been a test for the generation of the Midbar, Hashem did not address this part of their complaint.
Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz brings a support for this idea: Among the curses stated in Devarim (28:66) appears “and you will not believe in your life.” Rashi explains that this refers to “one who relies on the baker.” Meaning, a person who has money to buy bread, but lives in fear that there will be no bread to buy. Such an outlook is deemed a “curse,” and yet — isn’t this how the generation of the Midbar lived? Why was their complaint rejected?
Rather, such a person brings this curse upon himself. Why does he live in fear? Who told him to worry that there will be no bread to buy? Hasn’t Hashem provided him with food until now?
In fact, when a person lives with belief in Hashem, having food only for today is an ideal way to live! Such a person clings to Hashem in a way that a person whose kitchen cupboards are full does not. He sees with utter clarity that Hashem is providing his sustenance in an immediate way. This brings him to greater and greater closeness to Hashem.
Today, when food is seldom scarce, it can happen that people forget that Hashem is giving us everything. If we have a regular salary that enables us to buy whatever we like, a person can begin thinking that it is he alone who supports himself. Perhaps this is why Hashem at times brings upon us difficulties in our livelihood. Instead of asking: “why is this happening to me? Everyone else is managing fine; why am I struggling to make a living?” We should recognize that Hashem is doing this to remind us that it is He who gives livelihood. In such situations, we should draw closer to Hashem and cry out to Him: “Hashem, Who always provided us with our sustenance, please help us now as well!”
This idea is found in Medrash Shir Hashirim (2:14), that Hashem brought afflictions onto the Jews in Egypt in order that they cry out to Him. A parable is offered: The king’s daughter loved to tour the countryside, but did not enjoy spending time with her father. The king decided to send a group of servants to her disguised as marauders. As she was touring the land, they came upon her, and she called out to her father to save her. The king came to her rescue, saying: “This is what I wanted, to hear your voice!”
The analogy, explains the Medrash, is that when Klal Yisrael in Egypt began to thrive, they began forgetting Hashem. He brought upon them the afflictions of slavery and they began crying out to him.
Later, when the Jews left Egypt, they once again began forgetting Hashem. He brought upon them the confrontation at the Red Sea, so he could hear their voices in prayer to Him once again.
When I was in my teens, my father decided to bring his family of seven children to Eretz Yisrael. His aliya seemed puzzling to many people, because in America, he had a steady job as a rebbe and we lived in a large house. In Eretz Yisrael it was much harder. He began without parnassa at all, and never really earned more than a minimal livelihood. He faced health issues here as well. Nevertheless, he was always happy that he had the merit to live in Eretz Yisrael. He would say that here, he sees Hashem’s hashgacha much more clearly. “The deveikus to Hashem is much stronger in Eretz Yisrael,” he would say.
May we recognize that Hashem is the source of our sustenance and cling to Him!