Avoiding a Bitter Life

Human beings are truly remarkable creatures. Their unique nature allows them to function on many different levels, instinctual, emotional, and intellectual. This unique combination of operational levels also makes human beings susceptible to the phenomenon of fantasy.  This week’s Torah reading sheds light on handling this strictly human quality.

After the miraculous splitting of the Sea of Reeds and the salvation of the nation of Israel from the advancing Egyptian army, Moshe leads the people into the Wilderness of Shur on their way to Mt. Sinai.  A three-day journey ensues before the nation finds water. The Torah records the nation finally comes to a place where “…they could not drink the water because it was bitter.” (Shemot 15:22) The Torah describes how God showed (taught) Moshe a tree, which itself was bitter; yet when thrown into the water, this tree made the water sweet. Immediately, “God establishes a decree and ordinance and there He tested them.” (Shemot 15:25) God promises to prevent any illness that afflicted the Egyptians from falling on the Children of Israel provided they listen diligently to the commands of God. “I am Hashem, your Healer.” (Shemot 15:26)

This is a very condensed yet fascinating story. Why is it in the Torah? What happened with the people at Marah? Moreover, what lesson does it contain for the people who will read this account in the future, like we are this Shabbat? Finally, what is the connection of God’s promise to the people who learn the lesson of Marah?

When the nation arrived at Marah, having not had water for three days, you would think they would lap it up and express their gratitude. If this were a matter of survival, a life-or-death situation, they certainly would have drunk the water.  Instead, they do not drink the water; even worse, they complain to Moshe.

What happened? Was the water contaminated? Then of course they would not drink. Did Moshe take the left fork in the desert instead of the right and wind up at the wrong oasis? But earlier the Torah tells us, “The Lord went before them by day in a pillar of cloud to lead them on the way, and at night by a pillar of fire.” (Shemot 13:21) So they must be at the right place. Welcome to “Bitter Waters!” What is the point of telling us the water was bitter?

Taste is a quality of food and as we know, it can add or detract from the eating experience. Recently, we know of people with Covid-19 that lost their faculty of taste completely, albeit only temporarily. Eating was not fun. A dear friend of mine underwent radiation for throat cancer several years ago. Thank God he is well today but he lost his ability to taste foods for over a year. Although we would joke about it, he was frustrated and tell me how difficult it was to eat without taste. And we are all culinary critics having been to a restaurant or two, where the food just wasn’t seasoned to our liking.

“The water was bitter” means the people had plenty of water but they didn’t get enough enjoyment from the water. They weren’t satisfied with quenching their thirst and relieving their biological needs for water. My teacher and mentor Rabbi Yisroel Chait once explained that as newly free people, Bnai Yisroel were now looking to have all the enjoyments not previously available to them as slaves. Sweet or good tasting water is a luxury if you are thirsty. At that point any water will do. As slaves in Egypt, the desire for luxuries couldn’t express itself. All human energy and effort were dedicated just to survive. Now that the Children of Israel were free, their energy flowed to having luxuries as well. They expected them. Even more, they were entitled to and deserved them.

 The very desire for luxuries is rooted in fantasy and an over estimation of the pleasure afforded by the physical world. This notion is based on an illusion. Our mind is tricked since we do derive increased pleasure momentarily. We reason that human life and existence will be qualitatively improved by indulging in luxuries. We just must find the right ones.

The bitterness of the water brought out the people’s frustration. They thought their freedom entitled them now to the luxuries they were previously deprived. Now they will have that qualitatively superior existence. That attitude toward life was exactly what God was testing. They were to come to this realization on their own at Marah. We don’t need to have a life of luxuries to have a superior human existence. So, the water is bitter, but we are better off if we can remove ourselves from this fantasy, the expectation and entitlement.

We have made this experiment on ourselves countless times. King Solomon explores this issue in Ecclesiastes. We chase after physical objects and enjoyments endowing them with inordinate pleasure and human happiness. We have all fallen prey to this malady.

If a person, say, is shopping today for a new car. Of course, he or she is going to get the latest gadgets. But if you are still driving an older model and feel less fulfilled as a human because you don’t have the luxury of a sunroof or Bluetooth connection, that is the lesson of Marah. I can remember when electric windows first came out as an additional package to a new car. Wow, you didn’t have to crank the car window open or closed by hand anymore. How primitive life was back in the 1950’s! Seriously, every person alive today has more luxuries than any person 100 certainly 200 years ago as regular features of living. But overall, are people happier than people 100 or 200 years ago with all of our luxuries? No. Most people in life are not happy even with all the luxuries of modern life.  So, the ability to fantasize overcomes us and drives us toward the next luxury.

What does our Torah teach? We are not a religion that espouses asceticism, shunning physical enjoyments. Just the opposite is true. We have blessings that we recite before and after enjoying many pleasures in life. The Talmud tells us we are culpable, and we will have to give account of our actions in the next world for pleasures we passed up on. The difference in Judaism is in the attitude we have toward the physical world.

Torah teaches us and directs us by its laws that this is not the area to invest our human energy. Life is bitter precisely because that is where people place their energy. Surprisingly, the way out of the dilemma is counter intuitive. Moshe is told to throw a “bitter tree” into the “bitter water” and then the water became sweet. What is this lesson of Marah?

God does not want us to be frustrated. He showed, He taught, us the way out of the dilemma. It is by enduring another bitter experience. We must begin by facing our nature and analyzing our drives and emotions. That can be a painful, bitter process. After the pull of the fantasy subsides, we recognize we are back in the original state looking for the next luxury which will give us the “ultimate happiness.” At that point, if the person can reflect on what just happened, he or she can start to redirect energy into a more beneficial and more enjoyable pursuit. Just this shift in focus, initially bitter since the person no longer has satisfaction in fantasy while still lacking the real pleasure found in the pursuit of wisdom, starts the person down the road to a truly sweet life.

To what should a human being direct his or her energy? It is in the pursuit of and the pleasure found in attaining wisdom that human beings are designed. This activity remains their exclusive domain. At Marah God gave the people a decree and an ordinance to start them on the road to wisdom. They were introduced to the idea of a mitzvah. God gave them a few at Marah to study and observe to begin the process of redirecting their energy to the only truly human endeavor, the attainment of wisdom.

The event of Marah, then, was recorded in our Torah not to be an historical record of our ancestors after just coming out of Egypt. Rather, it was a “teaching moment” for all future humanity as well.  A truly sweet life is attainable for man but each person must make a decision.  Choosing to follow the flow of fantasy presented by our desires and emotions, life will be bitter in an endless chase for illusory pleasures will ensue. A basically bitter and frustrating life will be lived. The expected happiness and pleasure will never be attained since it is based in fantasy.

However, to the extent we can direct our energy to attaining wisdom, happiness must result. The person is then living a life rooted in reality. By definition, such a person will encounter no disappointment or bitterness. In learning there is even enjoyment in seeing the problem or when posing a question. God’s promise makes sense. When a person engages in the pursuit of understanding and living life based in reality, he is safeguarded from the senseless stresses and pressures of running after the physical world. In line with the Creator’s will and purpose of the physical world and human existence, God testifies that His providence, השגחה, will intervene to sustain us to partake in more of this life.  As we know, the best medicine is preventative medicine. God is “your Healer.” He has taught us and given us the antidote to avoid a life of instinctual, emotional, and intellectual bitterness.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Robert Kaplan