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Moses Looked for Someone Who Cared and Found No One

When Moses looked this way and that before striking the taskmaster, the Tikkunei Zohar says he searched for anyone who cared, not for witnesses.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Verse That Is Too Simple
  2. What Moses Actually Saw When He Looked Around
  3. Moses Argued With God About Leaving
  4. The Failure of the Bystanders

The Verse That Is Too Simple

The verse is spare. Moses goes out to his brothers, sees an Egyptian striking a Hebrew, looks this way and that, sees no man, and strikes the Egyptian dead (Exodus 2:11-12). Most readers take this as Moses checking for witnesses. He is about to commit an act that Egypt will call murder. He wants to know if anyone is watching.

The Tikkunei Zohar, compiled c. 1300 CE in Castile, Spain, refuses this reading. It finds it too small, too tactical. Moses was not scanning for informants. He was looking for something else entirely: a single person in all of Egypt who, seeing what he saw, felt compelled to do something about it.

What Moses Actually Saw When He Looked Around

The Tikkunei Zohar's reading of Exodus 2:12 is a social analysis disguised as a cosmological one. When Moses turned this way and that and saw no man, the text is not reporting an absence of people. Egypt was a populous empire. There were people everywhere. What Moses found absent was something different: a person who, seeing injustice, felt the compulsion to act against it.

He saw men absorbed in their own affairs. Each one turned toward his own profit, his own journey, his own calculations. Not necessarily evil men. Just men who had decided that someone else's suffering was not their business. The Tikkunei Zohar presents this as the deepest diagnosis of what was wrong with Egypt and, by extension, with any society that tolerates what it could prevent: it was not a society of villains. It was a society of bystanders.

Moses Argued With God About Leaving

The Tikkunei Zohar's portrait of Moses as the man who could not look away from injustice runs through the entire arc of his life. It does not stop at the striking of the Egyptian taskmaster. It extends to his confrontation with God at the end of his life, when the decree of death had been issued and Moses argued against it.

Rabbi Abbahu offered a parable about Moses's argument. A nobleman found a magnificent sword and brought it to the king as a gift. The king admired the sword and kept it, and the nobleman said: since you find it beautiful, let it serve you. This was Moses's position. He had given his life to the service of the covenant. He had argued for the people against God more than once. He had stood in the breach when the decree against them was as final as any decree could be (Exodus 32:11-14). Could not the same advocacy, the same refusal to accept that the situation could not be changed, work one more time in his own case?

God said no. The decree stood. But the midrashic tradition preserves Moses's argument not as a failure but as an extension of who he was. He was not able to see injustice without speaking. He did this when there was no man in Egypt who cared. He did it to God on behalf of the people. He did it on behalf of himself. He lost the last argument, but he made it.

The Failure of the Bystanders

The Tikkunei Zohar places Moses's scan of Egypt in a chain of moral analysis that begins with the absence of any just person in Sodom and runs forward through the Hebrew Bible to the despairing question of Isaiah: I looked for someone to intervene, for anyone to uphold justice, and there was no one (Isaiah 59:16). The same diagnostic structure appears in each case. Not an absence of people. An absence of people who cannot be bystanders.

Moses was made of something different. He could not look this way and that and see men absorbed in their own affairs and turn back to his own affairs in turn. The moment he saw the taskmaster's blow, the question of who else cared became irrelevant to whether he would act. He looked around to find someone who had already acted or was about to act, so he would not have to act alone. He found no one. So he acted alone. That is the Tikkunei Zohar's Moses: the man whose threshold for intervention was zero, and whose scan of the crowd was not self-protection but the last hope that somebody else might have the same threshold.


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

Tikkunei Zohar 43:17Tikkunei Zohar

Moses certainly did.

The Torah tells us, in (Exodus 2:12), that Moses "turned this way and that, and he saw that there was no man..." Now, the Tikkunei (spiritual repair) Zohar, a central text of Kabbalah, doesn't take that literally. It's not saying there were no actual people around. Instead, it's offering a profound critique of society.

What did Moses really see? The Tikkunei Zohar in Tikkunei Zohar 43 suggests he saw a world where everyone was absorbed in their own affairs, chasing their own self-interest. As it says, "each man had turned to his own way, with their own occupations, with their own journeys… each man to his own profit from his own quarter, with the profit of this world, in order to inherit this world." How often do we get caught up in the daily grind, focused solely on our own needs and desires? Are we truly seeing each other? Are we seeing the bigger picture?

The Tikkunei Zohar contrasts this self-centeredness with the qualities of true leadership, drawing on (Exodus 18:21): "...men of valour, those who fear ELQYM [God], men of truth, haters of illicit gain..." These are the people who are attuned to something higher, who act with integrity and compassion. They are the opposite of those solely focused on "the profit of this world."

And then comes the really sharp critique. The Tikkunei Zohar describes those lost in self-interest as being like dogs crying out on Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. They brazenly demand, "Give! Give us sustenance, and forgiveness and atonement and life – write us for life!"

Ouch.

Why dogs? The text equates this behavior with the nations of the world, "who cry out to Him and have no shame." They’re just barking orders, focused on their immediate needs without any sense of humility or genuine repentance. No real introspection. It’s a harsh image, but it forces us to confront the potential for hypocrisy in our own prayers and actions.

Are we truly seeking forgiveness and change, or are we just going through the motions, demanding what we think we deserve? Are we looking "this way and that" and actually seeing the world around us, or are we too caught up in our own little bubbles?

The Tikkunei Zohar challenges us to be better. To be more mindful, more compassionate, and more attuned to the needs of others. It calls us to move beyond self-interest and strive for a more meaningful and connected existence. Maybe that's what Moses was searching for – and what we should be searching for too.

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Midrash Tanchuma, Vaetchanan 6Midrash Tanchuma

God told Moses: "Do not speak to Me on this matter again" (Deuteronomy 3:26). The decree was final. But Moses argued anyway.

Rabbi Abbahu offered a parable. A nobleman found a magnificent sword, unmatched in all the world. And brought it to the king as a gift. The king took the sword, admired it, then said: "Cut off his head with it." Moses understood the parable perfectly. He had praised God with the word hen, "Behold, the heavens and the heavens of heavens belong to the Lord your God" (Deuteronomy 10:14). And God used that very word to sentence him: "Behold (hen), the days are drawing near for you to die" (Deuteronomy 31:14). The instrument of praise became the instrument of death.

Moses protested: "I ascended to the heavens! I entered the Araphel, the dark cloud where You dwell! I spoke with You face to face and received the Torah from Your hand! Was it all for nothing, just to end as food for worms?"

God replied: "I have already decreed death over the first Adam." Moses shot back: "Adam deserved it. You gave him one easy commandment and he broke it. But I kept all six hundred and thirteen commandments!" God said: "Abraham also died." Moses answered: "Abraham fathered Ishmael, whose descendants do wicked things." God said: "Isaac also died." Moses replied: "Isaac fathered Esau, who destroyed the Temple." God said: "Jacob also died." Moses answered: "Jacob's sons all served You, not one went astray."

Moses ran out of arguments but not out of grief. He wept: "Woe to my feet that never walked in the Land of Israel! Woe to my hands that never plucked its fruit! Woe to my throat that never tasted the milk and honey!"

He died on the seventh of Adar, exactly one hundred and twenty years to the day after his birth. The sages calculated backward from the crossing of the Jordan on the tenth of Nisan (Joshua 4:19), minus thirty days of mourning, to prove that God fulfills the years of the righteous precisely, "I will complete the number of your days" (Exodus 23:26). Not a single day more. Not a single day less.

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