Shemot - Embrace the Snake
If we have the right perspective, each challenging experience in life can profoundly shape our identity.for the better.
In this week’s parsha, we read about Moses’s encounter with Yitro and his daughters. After killing a vicious Egyptian taskmaster who was lashing a Jewish slave, Moses fled to Midyan. There, he encounters a group of shepherds at a well, trying to block Moses’ future wife, Tzipporah, and her sisters from drawing water. He came to their rescue, and when the sisters returned home, they reported to their father that “an Egyptian man saved us.”
This narrative raises a question: Why do they refer to Moses as an Egyptian? While the more obvious interpretation is that they simply mistook him for an Egyptian as he arrived from Egypt, the Midrash offers an alternative explanation: The sisters were referring not to Moses but to the abusive Egyptian he killed. But why acknowledge the cruel Egyptian for rescuing Yitro's daughters when it was Moses who intervened on their behalf? The Egyptian taskmaster's actions only incidentally led to Moses' arrival in Midyan, and he certainly appears unworthy of any mention or gratitude given his brutal behavior.
To help us understand this paradoxical perspective, the same Midrash gives an analogy about a man who is bitten by a snake. In those days, people believed that if, after being bitten by a snake, you raced the snake to the river and arrived there first, you would survive. In the analogy, a snake-bitten man runs to the river, and as he sticks his foot in the water, he sees a boy drowning and saves him. The boy’s mother expresses gratitude to the man, who replies, don’t thank me, thank the snake! If not for my snake bite, I would never have found your son.
When we pay homage to the snakes of the world, we are learning a new perspective on the concept of hakarat hatov, traditionally translated as gratitude. This Midrash offers us a fresh and meaningful nuance to the understanding of this crucial concept of gratitude. Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz explains in Sichot Mussar that hakarat hatov entails recognizing the positive side of all circumstances, including the negative ones. In this context, the word tov goes beyond the conventional meaning of good. It refers to our authentic origins -- the seeds, so to speak, from which we grow. Hakarat hatov helps us appreciate that our problems, even those beyond our control, can serve as a springboard to achieving our unique selfhood and independence.
This teaches that intentions are not always the point. Despite the Egyptian’s intentional brutality, Tzipporah and her sisters could express hakarat hatov because they sensed that his behavior would lead to a fundamentally positive outcome for their family -- Yitro's conversion to Judaism and Tzipora’s marriage to Moses. They immediately grasped that this encounter was more than a random incident, so they felt compelled to acknowledge the Egyptian whom Moses killed because that evil man’s actions were the catalyst for a string of pivotal events.
They were not expressing gratitude toward that Egyptian; they were stoically acknowledging that he played a vital role in their growth. They saw the positive side of the challenge. They recognized the good, symbolized by the snake, that ultimately shaped them into the individuals they became.
This idea is also exemplified in the story of the Jews’ battle with Og, the giant king of Bashan, recounted in the book of Bamidbar. Moses was terrified of fighting Og, but God reassured him. The Midrash says that Moses was fearful because of the spiritual merit Og had earned in a chain of events during the time of Abraham. Og was the one who informed Abraham that his nephew Lot had been captured by mercenaries, provoking Abraham to declare war on those armies. Abraham became famous for his triumph in that world war.
But Og’s intentions were evil. As we learn from the Midrash, he hoped Abraham would perish in battle so that he could marry Sarah. It’s fair to ask, then, why was Moses worried about merit stemming from this Og’s act, given his diabolical intentions? Why would we give credit to someone who acted solely out of selfishness and maleficence?
Yes, Og’s plans were deplorable, but the war he incited is what made Abraham famous. The entire parshat Lech Lecha is structured around God's promise to Abraham that he would have the three blessings of riches, nationhood, and fame. Og's wicked deed played a vital part in fulfilling God's commitment to making Abraham famous, a fundamental element of the covenant that laid the foundations for the Jewish people. Moses, however, was apprehensive that Og's contribution to the core of our Abrahamic covenant might be legitimately attributed to him. Despite Og's malicious intentions, we have the obligation of hakarat hatov, not to express gratitude to this malevolent individual but to acknowledge his significant role in shaping our nation's identity. This acknowledgment is about recognizing our roots, not offering thanks for evil intentions.
The lesson here should not be confused with the trite adage that every cloud has a silver lining, a perspective that can seem dismissive of our suffering. Developing hakarat hatov involves the recognition that each negative episode in life could have a significant impact on the development of our identity. Seeing the good in a painful episode goes beyond identifying a silver lining; it calls on us to recognize our roots and to become aware of our inherent goodness, the tov, or good, that has shaped our complete and authentic selves. All experiences, whether positive or negative, have the potential to shape who we are becoming as individuals. Each time we confront a hardship, we have an opportunity to move closer to fulfilling the essential nature of our souls, both individually and as part of the Jewish people. During these daunting times for the Jewish people, our determination to express hakarat hatov can provide us with extraordinary strength to persevere and hope for a wonderful future.
Eliezer Hirsch