Concerning Gratitude – A Lesson from the First Three Plagues
Introduction: Water…
As a rule, the plagues in Egypt were brought about through the agency of Moshe. This was not the case, however, with the first two plagues, blood and frogs. With these plagues it was Aharon who hit the Nile to initiate the plague. Rashi,[1] quoting the Midrash, explains why:
Since the Nile protected Moshe when he was placed into it, it was not struck by his hand, nor in the plague of frogs; rather, it was hit by Aharon.”
This well-known comment requires some explanation. What is wrong with Moshe hitting the Nile? Was the Nile an active or willing participant in saving him? Did it put itself out for him, or was it even conscious of the benefit Moshe received from it? Of course not, it has no consciousness. It did the only thing a river ever does — it flowed! What room is there for gratitude toward an inanimate object that has no thoughts?
Moreover, even if we somehow adopt the thesis that Moshe has a debt of gratitude toward the Nile, let us raise a different question: If Moshe really wants to do the Nile a favor as a sign of his gratitude, he should hit it! Hitting the Nile was arguably the best thing that ever happened to it. For almost all of its existence it was the object of idol worship on the part of the Egyptians. Its finest hour was the week it turned into blood, when it got a break from being an object of sin and had a chance to become a vehicle of sanctifying Hashem’s Name! Thus we wonder, why not follow the idea of “gratitude toward the Nile” through to its logical conclusion, strike it, and turn it into a mitzvah?
… and Dust
Things get significantly more perplexing when we come to the third plague, turning the dust into lice. Here, too, it is not Moshe who strikes the dust, but Aharon. Rashi[2] again explains:
It was not fitting for the dust to become a plague through Moshe, for it protected him when he killed the Egyptian and buried him in the dust. Rather, it was hit by Aharon.
In addition to the difficulties raised above regarding the Nile, this instance has some extra problems. With regard to the Nile, at least it is correct to say that it saved Moshe, even if it did so without any awareness. In the case of Moshe burying the Egyptian in the sand, it didn’t even help him, for the next day he was running for his life from Pharaoh anyway! Why does he need to express gratitude to the dust if it didn’t succeed in protecting him? What will we say, “It did its best”? It is dust, it doesn’t have a best!
Intellectual Truth and Emotional Truth
In order to gain an understanding of what is at stake here, R’ Eliyahu Dessler[3] prefaces by identifying two types of truth, intellectual truth and emotional truth:
· The first type is what we would naturally refer to as truth, namely, that which is actually true and recognized by the intellect as such.
· The second type refers to things that may feel true, even if they are not.[4]
Examples of the latter are the cases at hand. In real terms, there is no issue of gratitude toward a body of water or the dust of the ground. However, on a certain level it feels wrong to strike something that saved you, even if intellectually you know that it doesn’t really matter.
Still, we may ask: If there is no real requirement of gratitude toward these objects, then why should Moshe avoid hitting them, just because it feels wrong?
The answer, says R’ Dessler, is that middos (character traits) are only as active as the sensitivity that fuels them. One who is intellectually aware of the importance of a middah will not act on it unless he also feels it is important. This sensitivity will become dulled if one violates that particular middah. What’s more, since sensitivity is based on how one feels, it may be also dulled by something that merely feels like a violation of the middah, even if there has been no real violation.
Once one’s sensitivities have been dulled, even through violations that are only emotionally true, the person may find himself insensitive to this middah even in circumstances where it really is appropriate. This is why Moshe could not hit the Nile or the dust. He could not risk being desensitized through what may have only felt like an act of ingratitude, for the result may be a subsequent dulling of his feelings of gratitude when they really would be warranted.
Truth and Time
Moreover, once we enter the realm of emotional vs. intellectual truth, we need to be aware that these two truths have two separate clocks, i.e., grasps of time. The intellect is capable of grasping the past, present and future. The emotions recognize only one time-frame — the present. When someone is emotionally overwrought, they can only relate to how they feel now. They cannot make room for the notion that they will feel better in the future, nor can they remember feeling better in the past. There is only the present. They are normally reminded of the past and future by someone next to them. This person, on account of being not as emotionally impacted, is currently a paragon of sweeping intellectual vision, and he will try and help his friend feel better using such remote concepts as the past and the future.
This is the answer to our second question as to why it was not considered to be an act of gratitude for Moshe to hit the Nile and bring about a sanctification of Hashem’s Name. We asked, wouldn’t this effect be the ultimate favor he could return? However, since the issue at stake here is about preserving sensitivity to gratitude which would feel like it was being violated if Moshe were to strike, that emotional reaction would only embrace the present, i.e., the moment of striking the Nile. The effect of sanctifying Hashem’s Name was a benefit which would ensue after the Nile had been hit. In the world of emotions, there is no after.
Conclusion: Unique Among Traits
We should note that it is not with every middah that we take the approach of avoiding what merely feels wrong to protect our sensitivity for when it really is wrong. Yet, we take this approach when it comes to the middah of gratitude. This is a tribute to the crucial significance that the Torah attaches to this middah, which must be protected at all costs. This is truly a profound lesson from the water and the dust in our parsha, one that beckons us to use and express gratitude fully, both in terms of our relationship Hashem and with others.
[2] Ibid., 8:12 .
[3] Michtav Me’Eliyahu, vol. 3, p. 100.
[4] We all know how a well-written work of fiction can elicit feelings of elation, suspense or sadness, even as the person knows that the story he is reading did not actually happen.