Parshat Shemot5 min read

Moses Hid His Face Before the Tabernacle Stood Alone

God calls Moses through his father's voice at the burning bush so the first prophet will not be shattered. Moses hides his face. Awe arrives before the mission.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Voice at the Bush Sounded Like His Father
  2. Aaron Received the Priesthood Through Moses's Hesitation
  3. Pharaoh's Heart Was Hardened to Complete the Display
  4. Everything in Creation Tries to Rise
  5. Only Moses Could Assemble What Others Built

The Voice at the Bush Sounded Like His Father

Moses hid his face because he was afraid to look at God. That is the plain reading of Exodus 3:6. Shemot Rabbah does not contradict it. It slows the moment down and asks: what did the voice sound like?

God called Moses at the burning bush using the voice of Amram, his father. Not thunder. Not the sound of many waters. A father's voice. The reason: if the divine voice had arrived in its own weight, Moses might have panicked and run. A novice prophet does not approach a pillar of fire in full divine disclosure without being shattered by it. So God meets Moses in the sound he already trusts. The father's voice says come closer. Moses comes closer. Only then does the voice identify itself as the God of his father and the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

Moses understands at that moment that the familiar voice was not merely familiar. It was ancient. His private grief for his father and Israel's ancestral covenant have met in one flame. He hides his face. Not because he is weak. Because he is, for the first time, in the presence of something true.

Aaron Received the Priesthood Through Moses's Hesitation

Moses did not leap from awe to obedience. He stalled. He said he was not a man of words. He asked God to send someone else. He offered objection after objection while the bush kept burning. Shemot Rabbah reads God's anger at this hesitation as a transfer. Moses could have held both roles, prophet and priest, the one who speaks and the one who approaches the altar. His long refusal cost him the priesthood. It passed to Aaron.

That could have become a wound between brothers. It did not. When Aaron came out to meet Moses after the reunion, the Torah says Aaron's heart was glad. Shemot Rabbah makes the gladness physical. Aaron was glad in his heart, and that heart was later adorned with the Urim and Thummim, the sacred stones of judgment worn over the breastplate of the High Priest. The joy he felt at seeing his brother alive became the decoration of his office. Even a transfer of role can be received with wholeness.

Pharaoh's Heart Was Hardened to Complete the Display

Why did God harden Pharaoh's heart? Why give Pharaoh the plagues as warnings and then prevent him from responding? Shemot Rabbah's answer is about completion. After five plagues, Pharaoh had seen enough to be convinceable. If he had capitulated at that point, the demonstration of divine power would have ended too early. Egypt and the watching nations would have seen a partial display, a God who could produce some catastrophes but not the full sequence. The hardening was not cruelty. It was the withholding of the exit that allowed the full story to be written.

Moses was the messenger of that full story. His hesitation at the bush, his fear of Egyptian language, his slow surrender to the mission: all of it was preparation for standing in the middle of a sequence that would not be complete until Pharaoh's army was at the bottom of the sea.

Everything in Creation Tries to Rise

Shemot Rabbah reads a principle through every episode in the Exodus narrative: everything in creation seeks its own exaltation. Mountains assert their height. Nations assert their precedence. Kings assert their divinity. The sea assumes it cannot be commanded. The bush burns and does not consume itself because the fire and the wood have each found a relationship that is not domination.

Moses stands opposite this principle. He is the one who exalts God while minimizing himself, who hides his face at the moment when pride would be understandable, who refuses the priesthood not from false humility but from something real. The very hesitation that cost him the role of priest made him the kind of prophet who could be trusted with the revelation.

Only Moses Could Assemble What Others Built

When the Tabernacle was finished, the craftsmen Bezalel and Oholiab and all the skilled workers brought every component to Moses. The boards, the curtains, the altar, the menorah, everything assembled but not yet standing. Moses had not lifted a hand in the construction. Shemot Rabbah says that every other craftsman had tried to erect the structure and could not. The boards were too heavy. The curtains would not hang. The beams resisted.

Moses said: "I cannot do this." God answered: "try with your hands." Moses moved his hands toward the Tabernacle and it stood. Not because Moses was stronger than Bezalel, but because the Tabernacle, like the mission, belonged to the one who had been formed by hiding his face at the bush. He who had been terrified of his own calling was the only one who could complete what others had built. The structure needed someone who knew the weight of what it was for.


← All myths

From the tradition

Sources

7 sources

The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Shemot Rabbah 3:1Shemot Rabbah

In the book of Exodus, Moses has that very experience. But it's not quite what you might expect.

The verse reads, "He said: I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob. Moses hid his face, for he was afraid of looking at God" (Exodus 3:6). Seems straightforward. But the rabbis of the Shemot Rabbah, a classical collection of Midrashic (rabbinic interpretive commentary) interpretations on the Book of Exodus, love to dig deeper. They ask, why this introduction? Why "the God of your father" first?

One interpretation hinges on the Hebrew word peti, which appears in (Proverbs 14:15): "A fool [peti] believes everything." What, you might wonder, does a fool have to do with Moses' encounter with God? Well, the rabbis connect peti with naivete, even likening it to a young lad – in Arabia, they supposedly called a lad petaya. Others see in peti an element of seduction, referencing (Exodus 22:15), "If a man seduces [yefateh] a woman."

Rabbi Yehoshua Ha-Kohen (a priest) bar Neḥemya offers a fascinating idea: At that moment, Moses was a novice at prophecy. God, being all-knowing, understood this. "If I appear to him in loud voice," God reasoned, "I will terrify him; in soft voice, he will take prophecy lightly." So, what did God do? He appeared to Moses with the voice of his father. Imagine Moses' surprise. "Here I am," he might have thought, "what does Abba want?" (Abba being the Aramaic term for father, a term Jews still use today). But God quickly clarifies: "I am not your father [Amram], but rather the God of your father. I have come to you with inducements so you will not be afraid." God meets Moses where he is, using a familiar and comforting approach to ease him into this extraordinary encounter. It's a deeply human touch, isn't it?

The text continues, "The God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob." Moses, according to the Midrash, was overjoyed. "Abba is enumerated with the patriarchs! He is greater, as he was mentioned first!" After all, God did introduce Himself as "the God of your father" before naming the patriarchs. But then, the verse tells us, "Moses hid his face." He thought, "The God of my father is standing here, and I am not hiding my face?"

Now, here's where things get really interesting. Rabbi Yehoshua ben Korḥa and Rabbi Hoshaya debate Moses' action. One opinion suggests that Moses messed up! Had he not hidden his face, the Holy One, blessed be He, would have revealed to him "what is above, what is below, what was, and what is destined to be." The ultimate secrets of the universe! Later, when Moses requests, "Please show me Your glory" (Exodus 33:18), God responds, "I came to appear to you, and you hid your face. Now I say to you: ‘For man will not see Me and live’ (Exodus 33:20); when I wanted, you did not want." Ouch.

However, Rabbi Yehoshua of Sikhnin, quoting Rabbi Levi, offers a more consoling view: God showed him something nonetheless. And, according to this line of reasoning, Moses was actually rewarded for his humility. As reward for "Moses hid his face," "the Lord spoke to Moses face to face" (Exodus 33:11). As reward for "For he was afraid," "they were afraid to approach him (Exodus 34:30). As reward for "of looking [mehabit]," "and the likeness of the Lord he beholds [yabit]" (Numbers 12:8).

Rabbi Hoshaya the Great doubles down: Moses acted perfectly! God Himself said, "I came to reveal My face to you, and you honored Me and hid your face; by your life, you are destined to be with Me on the mountain for forty days and forty nights, without eating and without drinking, and you are destined to enjoy the aura of the Divine Presence, as it is stated: ‘Moses did not know that the skin of his face glowed’ (Exodus 34:29)." In contrast, Nadav and Avihu, sons of Aaron, "uncovered their heads and feasted their eyes on the aura of the Divine Presence" (Exodus 24:11), yet they were not punished.

So, what are we to make of all this? Was Moses right to hide his face, or did he miss an opportunity? The beauty of these ancient texts is that they don't offer easy answers. Instead, they present us with different perspectives, forcing us to confront the complexities of faith, humility, and the very nature of our relationship with the Divine. Perhaps the key takeaway is that approaching the sacred requires a delicate balance of reverence and openness, a willingness to both acknowledge our limitations and to embrace the potential for profound revelation. And maybe, just maybe, sometimes hiding our face is the most profound way to truly see.

Full source
Shemot Rabbah 3:17Shemot Rabbah

The familiar story is this: God commands Moses to go to Pharaoh and demand the release of the Israelites. But Moses hesitates. He protests, famously declaring, "I am not a man of words" (Exodus 4:10). But what was the real consequence of that hesitation?

Well, according to Shemot Rabbah, a fascinating thing occurred. Remember the verse: “The wrath of the Lord was enflamed against Moses, and He said: Surely Aaron your brother the Levite, I know that he can speak. And behold, he is coming out to meet you, and he will see you, and be glad in his heart” (Exodus 4:14)? What was this "enflamed wrath" about?

The Rabbis tell us that at that moment, the priesthood, which could have been Moses', was instead given to his brother, Aaron. As it says, "Surely Aaron your brother the Levite" – from the fact that He said “your brother,” don’t I know that he is a Levite? Rather, He said to him: ‘You were fit to be a priest, and he, a Levite. Because you refuse to fulfill My words, you will be a Levite, and he, a priest.’ for a second. Moses' reluctance, his feeling of inadequacy, altered the course of his destiny and the destiny of his family. He was meant to be the Kohen Gadol, the High Priest! But because he doubted himself, that role went to Aaron.

Here's the really beautiful part. There's no bitterness, no resentment between the brothers. God assures Moses that Aaron will be glad to see him, and that he will be a supportive partner. "He will see you, and be glad in his heart." And Rabbi Shimon ben Rabbi Yosei adds a powerful insight: "The heart that was glad over the greatness of his brother will don the Urim ve’Tumim," that mystical oracle on the High Priest's breastplate. As the verse says: “They shall be upon Aaron’s heart” (Exodus 28:30). Aaron's joy in his brother's success becomes a qualification for his sacred role.

God then outlines the brothers’ respective roles: “You shall speak to him and place the words in his mouth, and I will be with your mouth and with his mouth, and I will instruct you what you shall do. He shall speak for you to the people and he shall be a mouth for you, and you shall be in God’s stead for him” (Exodus 4:15–16). God promises to be with both of them, ensuring they can fulfill their mission.

And there's another interesting detail here. Even though Aaron is the older brother, Moses will still command a certain level of respect. "Even though he is your older brother, fear of you will be upon him." The text goes on to say: "From here they said: Fear of your teacher is like the fear of Heaven."

But what about that staff? The one Moses is told to take with him? "You shall take in your hand this staff, with which you shall perform the signs" (Exodus 4:17). The Rabbis connect this back to Moses' initial reluctance. Because he claimed he wasn't a man of words, he would need another tool to get the job done. "A slave will not be admonished with words" (Proverbs 29:19). The staff, a symbol of authority and, perhaps, even a hint of the force that might be needed to lead a stubborn people.

So, what does all of this tell us? The story of Moses and Aaron is a story of divine calling, human hesitation, and unexpected consequences. It's a story about how our choices shape our destiny, and how even our perceived weaknesses can be transformed into strengths. It's also a reminder that leadership isn't always about being the most eloquent or powerful person, but about recognizing your own limitations and embracing the gifts of others. Sometimes, it's about knowing when to let your brother take the lead.

Full source
Shemot Rabbah 13:1Shemot Rabbah

It all begins with the verse, "The Lord said to Moses: Come to Pharaoh, as I have hardened his heart, and the heart of his servants, in order to place these signs of Mine in their midst" (Exodus 10:1).

What does Pharaoh's hardened heart really mean?

The Midrash cleverly links this to a verse in Proverbs (27:3): “The heft of a stone and the weight of sand, but the anger of a fool is heavier than both.” This sets the stage for a deeper exploration of what truly "weighs" on the Divine.

The Midrash then tells a story. Avnimos, a weaver, approaches the Rabbis with a burning question: How was the earth created? The Rabbis, acknowledging their limitations, direct him to Abba Yosef, a builder. Finding Abba Yosef on scaffolding, Avnimos poses his question. Abba Yosef explains that God took dirt from beneath the Throne of Glory and cast it upon the water, and it became earth. The pebbles within the dirt became mountains and hills, referencing (Job 38:38), “When the dirt turns into a mass, and the clods cleave together.” imagery for a moment. Dirt from beneath the Throne of Glory.. becoming the foundation of our world. Powerful. The Midrash then circles back to the proverb. “The heft of a stone” – doesn't seeing mountains and hills make us wonder at God's creation? And "the weight of sand" – the sand that supports the water, seemingly heavy, yet God doesn't tire from it, as (Isaiah 40:28) tells us: “He does not tire and does not weary.” So, what does weary God? According to (Malachi 2:17), it's when we "wearied the Lord with your words." That is "the anger of a fool [that] is heavier than both."

But there's another layer to this, a second interpretation. “The heft [koved] of a stone” becomes connected to the word for honor [kibadti]. God honored Israel, who are called a stone, referencing (Genesis 49:24), “From the Shepherd of the stone of Israel.” And “the weight [netel] of sand” refers to Israel, who are compared to sand, as (Hosea 2:1) states, “The number of the children of Israel will be like the sand of the sea.” God elevated them, declaring that "One who touches them touches the pupil of his eye.” This is based on Zechariah (2:12). Rabbi Yehoshua even suggests a textual emendation, that the verse should read "My eye" instead of "his eye," showing just how intensely God feels about protecting Israel.

But.. they angered God. And God considered destroying them. But ultimately, God refrained, so that Pharaoh wouldn't be able to say, "He was unable to deliver them so he stood against them and killed them." That is "but the anger of a fool is heavier than both.”

And that is why God hardened Pharaoh's heart. It wasn't arbitrary. It was a consequence, a reaction, to the "weight" of foolish anger, both Pharaoh's and, in a way, Israel's own.

So, what does it all mean? Perhaps it's a reminder that our actions, our words, our very being, carry a weight – a weight that can either honor God or, heaven forbid, contribute to a burden even heavier than mountains and sand. A burden borne out of foolish anger. And that is a truly weighty thought.

Full source
Shemot Rabbah 23:13Shemot Rabbah

It’s a concept that’s wrestled with beautifully in Shemot Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Exodus.

The verse "I will sing to the Lord, for He is exalted" (Exodus 15:1) becomes the starting point for a fascinating exploration. It's linked to the verse “Adorn yourself now with majesty and excellence” (Job 40:10). The idea? Everything tries to assert its dominance, to exalt itself in some way. Darkness reigns over the depths, literally positioned above them. The wind lords over the water, and fire above the wind. The heavens, in turn, stand above the fire. Each element seemingly trying to outdo the one below.

God… God is above it all. As the verse states, "For He is exalted [ga’o ga’a]." That double term, ga’o ga’a, it's not just a repetition. It amplifies the idea. It emphasizes that God's exaltation is beyond compare, beyond anything else we can comprehend.

Rabbi Avin offers an intriguing perspective. He says that four exalted beings were created in this world: Man, the eagle, the ox, and the lion. Each is supreme in its own sphere – humankind among living creatures, the eagle among birds, the ox among domesticated animals, and the lion among wild beasts. These four were given kingship, prominence, and a very specific role.

And here’s where it gets truly fascinating: these four are fixed beneath the chariot of the Holy One, blessed be He. The vision of Ezekiel (1:10) comes to mind: "The likeness of their faces…the face of a man…the face of a lion…the face of an ox…the face of an eagle."

Why this arrangement? To keep them in check. To ensure they don't become overly proud or arrogant. So they remember that there is a higher power, a higher kingdom above them.

It reminds us of the passage in Ecclesiastes (5:7): "For One higher than high watches, and there are higher than they." Or, to put it another way, "For He is exalted."

So, what’s the takeaway here? Perhaps it's a reminder of humility. A call to recognize the inherent hierarchy of existence, and where we fit within it. Even the most powerful, the most majestic among us, are ultimately subject to a higher authority. It’s a beautiful and humbling thought, isn't it? A reminder that true greatness lies not in exalting ourselves, but in recognizing the One who is truly exalted.

Full source
Shemot Rabbah 41:2Shemot Rabbah

It's like tossing a pebble into a pond, the ripples go far beyond what you can see. Shemot Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Exodus, explores this very idea. It suggests that "a person’s giving expands for him," opening doors and creating blessings in unexpected ways. It all comes from (Proverbs 18:16), "A person’s giving expands for him [and will bring him before great men]."

The midrash, the ancient Jewish method of interpreting scripture, shares a fascinating story about a man named Avin. He was known as "Avin the deceiver," but not in the way it first appears! Avin secretly matched every donation made to charity, without anyone knowing. He created the impression that he wasn't donating himself! When the Sages discovered his secret acts of generosity, they honored him by seating him among them. This recognition, this elevation, proves that "a man's giving expands for him." giving isn’t always about public display; sometimes, the most profound acts of generosity are the ones done in secret.

The idea doesn't stop there. Shemot Rabbah then takes us back to Abraham. Remember when he defeated the four kings? The King of Sodom offered him all the spoils, but Abraham refused, declaring, "I have raised my hand to the Lord…not a thread or a sandal strap" (Genesis 14:22–23). He didn’t want to profit from the victory. Now, the Holy One, blessed be He, noticed this incredible act of selflessness. According to the midrash, God said, "You say: 'Not a thread,' as you live, with that same expression I will laud your descendants, as it is stated: 'Your lips are like a scarlet thread' (Song of Songs 4:3). You said: 'Or a sandal strap,' with that expression, I will laud your descendants, as it is stated: 'How fair are your feet in sandals' (Song of Songs 7:2)." Because of Abraham's refusal to take, his descendants would be praised. His act of giving up material wealth resulted in eternal blessings.

Then, the text turns to the Israelites and their enthusiastic contributions to the building of the Mishkan (Tabernacle). They gave so generously that, according to Rabbi Yochanan, they brought all the necessary materials in just two mornings! What was their reward? That the Holy One would expand their boundaries. As it says in (Deuteronomy 12:20), "When the Lord your God will expand your boundary." Giving, in this case, led to literal expansion and prosperity.

Rabbi Yonatan offers another perspective, stating that three things were given as a gift, a matana, to the world: rain, light, and Torah. Rain, as it says, "I will provide [venatati] your rains in their time" (Leviticus 26:4). Light, as it is written, "God set [vayiten] them in the firmament of the heavens" (Genesis 1:17). And Torah, as it is stated, "He gave [vayiten] to Moses […the two tablets of Testimony]." These fundamental elements of life are not earned, but given freely.

Rabbi Azarya, citing Rabbi Shimon, adds peace to this list, referencing the verse "I will provide [venatati] peace in the land" (Leviticus 26:6). Shalom, peace, is not just the absence of conflict, but a gift, a blessing bestowed upon us.

So, what does this all mean? Giving isn't just about charity or material possessions. It's about a spirit of generosity, a willingness to share, to sacrifice, and to trust that the universe will reciprocate. It's about Avin's secret generosity, Abraham's refusal of spoils, the Israelites' enthusiastic contributions, and the very gifts of rain, light, Torah, and peace. It's about understanding that when we give, we create space for something greater to enter our lives and the world around us. What kind of giving will you bring into the world?

Full source
Shemot Rabbah 52:4Shemot Rabbah

Boards, bars, meticulously woven fabrics… everything perfect in its own right. But when it came to assembling it all? Nothing. They were stumped.

Shemot Rabbah 52 vividly paints this scene. All these experts come to Moses, their heads bowed, presenting their beautifully made components. “Here are the boards, here are the bars,” they say, perhaps a little dejected. They'd done their part, but the Mishkan remained stubbornly unassembled. It reminds me of the verse in (Proverbs 31:29), “Many daughters have performed valiantly, but you have surpassed [alit] them all,” which the text uses as a parallel to Moses being the most excellent [meuleh] of them all. They made it, but he was the only one who could put it together.

Then, something remarkable happens. As Moses gazes upon their work, the Shekhinah, the Divine Presence, descends upon him. The text doesn't say Moses single-handedly erected the Mishkan. No, it says that miracles were performed. (Exodus 40:17) tells us, "The Tabernacle was erected" – not "they erected the Tabernacle," but simply, “it was erected.” The Mishkan, in a sense, stood up on its own.

If that sounds a bit far-fetched, consider Solomon’s Temple. Rav Huna, citing Rabbi Yosei, tells us that when Solomon built the House of God, everything – even angels and spirits! – assisted him (based on Matnot Kehuna's translation). I (Kings 6:7) states: “The House, in its construction, was built of whole stones that were transported; hammers, the axe, or any iron tools were not heard in the House in its construction.” It practically built itself! The Hebrew term behibanoto, translated as "in its construction," can even be read as "as it built itself" (as noted in a textual analysis).

Just as the Temple was erected with miraculous assistance, so too was the Mishkan. It wasn't just about skill or craftsmanship; it was about Divine intervention, about something beyond human capability making the impossible possible. "They brought the Tabernacle" the text concludes, implying that the Tabernacle was brought into being by something more than human hands.

So, what are we to make of this? It's easy to focus on the tangible, the physical act of construction. But maybe the story of the Mishkan is trying to tell us something deeper. Maybe it's about recognizing that sometimes, the most significant accomplishments require a little bit of… well, magic. A little bit of Divine assistance. And perhaps, most importantly, a willingness to surrender our own ego and allow something greater to guide us. Because sometimes, the most beautiful things are built not just by us, but through us.

Full source
Shemot Rabbah 52:1Shemot Rabbah

That feeling… it's actually deeply rooted in a story from the Torah, a story about the Mishkan, the Tabernacle.

It opens with a seemingly simple verse: "They brought the Tabernacle to Moses: The Tent and all its vessels, its hooks, its boards, its bars, its pillars, and its sockets" (Exodus 39:33). But the Rabbis see so much more than just a delivery being made.

Rabbi Tanhuma bar Abba, a sage whose insights still resonate today, starts by quoting a verse from Psalms: "In embroidery she is led to the king; her virgin companions follow her, brought to you" (Psalms 45:15). A wedding procession? Well, in a way, yes! He uses this verse as a lens through which to understand the Tabernacle's presentation to Moses.

What's the "embroidery" in this context? The Tabernacle itself!: the Mishkan wasn't just functional; it was a work of art. The text even mentions "an embroiderer in sky blue wool" (Exodus 38:23) involved in its creation. It was a masterpiece, meticulously crafted.

And who is the "king" to whom this embroidered beauty is led? Moses, of course! He's even referred to as king elsewhere in the Torah: "He became king in Yeshurun, when the heads of the people were assembled, the tribes of Israel together" (Deuteronomy 33:5). Yeshurun is a poetic name for Israel. So, Moses, the leader, the lawgiver, is being honored as a king.

The verse says, "She is led." And Rabbi Tanhuma connects this directly to the act of bringing the Tabernacle to Moses. It wasn't just a logistical task; it was a ceremonial presentation.

But what about those "virgin companions" mentioned in the Psalm? Here, the Rabbis beautifully equate them with the people of Israel. And the term "virgin" isn't meant literally, but symbolically. They are virgins in that they remained pure and unblemished by idolatry. As it says in (Song of Songs 4:12), "A locked garden is my sister, my bride; a locked fountain, a sealed spring." The imagery of a locked garden and sealed spring represents a people who have protected themselves from corruption (as explained in Yefei To’ar, a commentary on the Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary)).

The Midrash continues, "Her companions," as they are the companions of the Holy One blessed be He, as it is stated: “For the sake of my brothers and companions, I now say: Peace be with you” (Psalms 122:8).

Finally, the phrase "Brought to you" emphasizes the culmination of the entire process. The Tabernacle, in all its glory, was brought to Moses on the very day it was completed. It wasn't left sitting, waiting. It was immediately presented to the one who would ultimately oversee its use and significance.

So, what’s the takeaway here? It’s more than just a historical account. It's about honoring leadership, appreciating beauty, and recognizing the dedication of a community. It suggests that true completion comes when our creations are presented to those who will understand and cherish them. Maybe, just maybe, it also hints at the importance of offering our best selves, our own "embroidered tabernacle," to the service of something greater than ourselves. What do you think?

Full source