Are We Asking The Right Question?: Turning The Bitter Waters Sweet

Parshas Beshalach 5783

In his remarkable work, “Man’s Search For Meaning,” Dr. Viktor Frankl commented that a major turning point in his life—one that allowed him to transcend the brutal suffering experienced in Auschwitz—was when he stopped asking what he expected of life and began asking what life expected of him.

The Jewish People safely cross the Red Sea but soon find themselves lacking the most necessary of all provisions when crossing a desert: water. The people complain for lack thereof and Hashem instructs Moshe to cast a piece of wood into a pool of bitter water, thereby making it miraculously potable.

Our tradition tells us that it was at this spot—Marah, literally, “bitter,” so named for the episode mentioned above—that the Jews received more than just water. This spot actually served as a precursor for the Har Sinai, and the Jews were gifted with three mitzvos, Shabbos; the Parah Adumah, or Red Heifer; and the mitzvah of Dinim, setting up a court system.

Why these three mitzvos, specifcally, and why now?

The Chasam Sofer offers an incredible insight into the event of transforming the bitter pool into drinkable water. The pasuk states that after Moshe cast the wood into the pool, “וימתקו המים—the water became sweet.” The Chasam Sofer observes that when one adds sugar or other flavoring agents to something bitter, the underlying bitterness remains nonetheless, it has simply been masked by the addition of the new ingredient. The coffee is just as bitter as it ever was; it just no longer tastes so.

To say, thought, that “וימתקו המים—the water became sweet” suggests a more comprehensive transformation. That which was bitter has not simply been masked, the bitter water is not merely more palatable, it has actually been changed into something new, something different, something sweet.

The Chasam Sofer explains that the wood or “עץ” that Hashem directed Moshe to throw into the water represented the “עץ חיים—the Tree of Life”, an allusion to the Torah itself. The Torah that serves as our interface with Hashem bears the potential to serve as a similar catalyst for all that is bitter in our own lives—the challenges, the setbacks, even the tragedies. When there is an awareness that what I experience is not accidental or haphazard, things did not simply turn out that way due to an unfortunate twist of fate, but have been tailor-made and presented to me by the Almighty in order allow me to discover yet unknown abilities and talents within myself, those same struggles can actually become sweet, challenging though they may be.

In this same vein, perhaps this is the reason for the presentation of these three specific mitzvos to the Jewish People at this same juncture. What do the mitzvos of Shabbos, Parah Adumah, and Dinim have in common? They habituate a person to recognizing that his own plans, interests, and sensibilities are not the be-all and end-all, that there is something greater and beyond him to submit to, and that the script that he’d write for himself may not be the correct one to produce.

Dinim brings a person in touch with an obvious submission to the authority of those who can view his case more objectively. Of course the plaintiff believes the other guy owes him $10,000 in damages, but the judges may not. Dinim is an exercise in recognizing that when others view his affairs from a place of objectivity, he may receive a different verdict than the one he wanted

Parah Adumah is, of course, the quintessential chok, or mitzvah that transcends human logic and reasoning. It is the paradigm of submitting the failings of our own cognition and appreciating that Hashem’s wisdom and understanding far outstrips our own.

Shabbos fits the same pattern. Shabbos is not solely about what we wish to do and accomplish, but is a day when we hand our affairs over to Hashem and submit to His vision for how we are meant to behave. We take a step back from our business, our earnings, and our creativity, and allow Hashem to fill the void left behind.

These three mitzvos in tandem provide crucial instruction for how we are to view the unfolding of our lives, particularly when challenges arise. They are a reminder that it is far wiser, healthier, and more genuine to ask what life expects of us rather than what we expect of life. That is mentality that can serve as the proverbial splinter in the bitter waters, transforming life’s challenges into care packages from Hashem, as he beckons us to become truly extraordinary people, people we may never have become if left to our own devices, writing a life’s script devoid of challenges or struggles. That splinter of wood has the capacity to make the water more than just palatable, it can actually make for a truly sweet drink.