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What God Asked From Moses Aaron and Abraham in Shemot Rabbah

A God who needs nothing kept asking Israel for things. A calendar. A lamp. A disgraced priest. A patriarch's vote on how to punish his own children.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The New Moon Moses Could Not See on His Own
  2. The Lamp God Did Not Need
  3. Why Aaron Was the One God Asked For
  4. What Abraham Decided About Gehenna

The New Moon Moses Could Not See on His Own

God said to Moses: this month shall be for you. The first commandment given to the whole people was not about food or worship or forbidden acts. It was about time. Mark when the month begins. Count the days from when the crescent appears. Take possession of the calendar.

Moses stood there and could not see what was being shown to him. The moon was there. The crescent was there. But the connection between the sliver of light and the obligation to hallow the month was not arriving in his mind with the clarity he needed to teach it to the people. So God pointed. With a finger, the midrash says, four times. The anointing oil. The shape of the menorah. The list of impure swarming creatures. And finally, the exact crescent that opens Nissan.

The rabbis of Shemot Rabbah described God shaking the sea to show Moses the crocodile hidden below the surface. God shaking the wilderness to show him the salamander born of fire. The same God who arranged the constellations stopped to hold a fingernail of moon in the air so that a man standing on the ground could tell his people when to begin. This is not a story about Moses's limitations. It is a story about what God is willing to do in order to be understood.

The Lamp God Did Not Need

Build me a Tabernacle, God told Moses, and inside it place a menorah, and keep the lamps burning. The rabbis looked at this instruction and asked the obvious question: the same God who is described as a consuming fire, the same God whose presence fills heaven and earth, needs a seven-branched lamp in a tent in the desert?

Shemot Rabbah gave a pointed answer. God does not need the light. God gives the light. The menorah was not for God's benefit. It was for Israel's. The light in the Tabernacle was Israel's contribution to a relationship that did not require their contribution in any technical sense. God asked for the lamp not because the lamp served a divine purpose but because the act of tending it served a human one. A people who keep the fire burning are a people who know they are expected. The lamp was an argument about presence, and the argument needed to be made from the human side.

Why Aaron Was the One God Asked For

After the Golden Calf, Aaron had made excuses. He told Moses the people had brought him the gold and he had thrown it in the fire and the calf had come out. The midrash did not find this persuasive. Aaron was the High Priest. He was the one who had been designated to stand in the gap between the people's worst impulses and the consequences of those impulses. He had not stood in that gap. He had stood beside it.

God forgave him. Then God asked for him specifically. Not for a more reliable priest, not for someone with a cleaner record, but for Aaron, the man who had failed in the most public way available. The rabbis in Shemot Rabbah read this request as its own kind of statement. The person God asks for is often not the person who deserves the honor on a clean accounting. It is the person whose restoration changes the meaning of the role. Aaron entering the Holy of Holies on Yom Kippur carried the weight of what he had done and been forgiven for. That weight was not a deduction from his priestly worth. It was the ground of it.

What Abraham Decided About Gehenna

Shemot Rabbah preserved a tradition in which Abraham was asked to weigh in on a theological problem: should Gehenna exist? The creation was not going to produce only righteous souls. Some people would die having used their lives to harm others. What was to be done with those lives?

Abraham did not refuse the question or defer it to heaven. He considered it. He brought his understanding of justice and his understanding of mercy into contact with each other in the way the tradition trusted the patriarchs to do. His answer accepted the necessity of Gehenna while placing conditions around its application. The patriarch's verdict was not binding on God. But God asked for it, and the asking mattered. A God who needed nothing asked the ancestor of the people to think through a hard question and tell him what he thought. This was not consultation for its own sake. It was the invitation to participation that runs through everything Shemot Rabbah builds: the calendar, the lamp, the priest, the patriarch's vote. God keeps asking Israel to do things that God could do without them. The asking is the whole point.


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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.

Shemot Rabbah 15:28Shemot Rabbah

Shemot Rabbah, a collection of interpretations on the Book of Exodus, recounts a fascinating episode. It begins with the verse, "This month shall be for you" (Exodus 12:2), referring to the month of Nissan, the beginning of the Jewish calendar. But the Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) sees something more profound here. It suggests that God actually showed Moses specific things that he was struggling to understand, pointing them out directly.

These weren't just abstract concepts, but tangible realities. The Midrash tells us that this "showing" happened with four specific items. First, the preparation of the anointing oil, as it is stated, "This shall be a holy anointing oil for Me..." (Exodus 30:31). Then, the crafting of the Menorah, the Candelabrum, as it is stated, "This is the work of the Candelabrum" (Numbers 8:4). He showed him the swarming creatures, as it is stated: “And this is impure for you [among the swarming things that swarm on the earth]” (Leviticus 11:29), and finally, the new moon, connected to the phrase "This month shall be for you."

The story doesn't stop there. The Midrash goes on to describe God "shaking" various parts of creation to reveal hidden things to Moses. Think of it like shaking a snow globe to reveal what's hidden within. He shook the seas and showed him the crocodile, which hides in the water and is difficult to see, referencing the verse, "The voice of the Lord is on the water" (Psalms 29:3). He shook the inhabited world and showed him the turtle, which hides from people and is not readily visible, as it is stated, "The voice of God breaks the cedars" (Psalms 29:5). And in the wilderness, He revealed the du’ar, a legendary poisonous creature born of a snake and a turtle according to Hullin 127a.

In Midrash, God even shook fire to reveal the salamander, a creature said to be born of fire itself! This is connected to the verse, "The voice of God hews the flames of the fire" (Psalms 29:7). All this happened in the context of, "And this is impure for you," referring to the list of impure animals.

The repetition of "shaking" and "showing" emphasizes the effort God made to communicate with Moses. The Midrash connects these revelations to verses in Psalms, such as "The voice of the Lord is powerful" and "The voice of the Lord is glorious" (Psalms 29:4). It even links "The voice of the Lord causes deer to give birth [yeḥolel]" (Psalms 29:9) to the idea of shaking, since yeḥolel can also mean "shake." And "He bared the forests" (Psalms 29:9), the Midrash says, refers to the spices of the incense, which come from the forest.

The passage concludes with a beautiful image: "And in His Sanctuary all say glory" (Psalms 29:9). The Midrash interprets this as all the kings of the earth praising God's glory. "All the kings of the earth shall give thanks to You" (Psalms 138:4).

What does this all mean? Perhaps it's a reminder that even when we struggle to understand, the Divine is actively trying to communicate with us. Sometimes, we need the world "shaken" a little to see what's truly there. And maybe, just maybe, we all have moments where God is pointing things out to us, if only we're open to seeing them.

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Shemot Rabbah 36:2Shemot Rabbah

It's not that God needs our light, the text insists. As it says, it’s not that I need the light of the candelabra."

why then does God command us to bring light?

Here's the beautiful twist: "…it is so that you illuminate for Me just as I illuminated for you." It’s about reciprocity, a divine call and response. Think of it like this: God illuminates our path, and in turn, we illuminate for God.

What does that even mean? What does it mean to "illuminate for God?"

The Midrash, the interpretive text, doesn’t leave us hanging. It uses a powerful analogy: a sighted person guiding a blind person. The sighted person says to the blind person, "Come and I will guide you." So far, so good. But when they reach their destination, the sighted person asks the blind person to light the lamp. Why? So the blind person won’t feel indebted. To create a sense of mutual exchange.

In this story, the sighted person represents the Holy One, blessed be He. As it is stated: “For the Lord, His eyes range throughout the entire land” (II Chronicles 16:9). God sees all, guides us. And who is the blind person? Israel, of course. As it is stated: “We grope a wall like the blind, like the eyeless we grope; we stumble at noon as in the dark of night” (Isaiah 59:10). That stumbling, the Midrash pointedly reminds us, happened with the Golden Calf, at midday – six hours into the day! We stumbled even when the light was all around us.

Before the sin of the Golden Calf, "The Holy One blessed be He was illuminating for them and guided them, as it is stated: “The Lord was going before them by day” (Exodus 13:21). God led them through the desert, a pillar of light in the darkness.

So, when the time came to build the Mishkan, the Tabernacle, and God asks for pure olive oil to light the menorah, Israel questions it! "‘For You will kindle my lamp’ (Psalms 18:29), and You say that we should illuminate for You?"

God’s answer is profound: "It is in order to elevate you, so you will illuminate for Me just as I illuminated for you." The act of illuminating isn't about fulfilling a divine need. It’s about elevating us, about making us partners in the act of creation, in bringing light into the world. It’s about showing the nations that we "illuminate for the One who illuminates for all."

It’s a stunning image, isn’t it? God, the ultimate source of light, desires our light, not because God needs it, but because we need to give it. Because in giving, we become more than just recipients of divine grace; we become active participants in spreading that grace. It's about relationship, about partnership.

The Midrash concludes with the verse, "A flourishing olive tree." A symbol of abundance, of light, and of the enduring relationship between God and Israel.

So, what does it mean for us today? Perhaps it means recognizing the light we’ve been given and asking ourselves: how can we illuminate the world around us? How can we be a flourishing olive tree, bringing light and blessing to others, just as God has done for us? What little bit of light can we offer to the world?

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Shemot Rabbah 37:3Shemot Rabbah

The verse It But the Rabbis saw so much more in those words. They connected it to a verse from Psalms (65:5): "Happy is the one You choose to bring near You to dwell in Your courtyards." What does it mean to be "brought near"? To be chosen?

Rabbi Yitzchak paints a vivid picture to explain. He tells of a king and his friend. Now, this wasn't just any friend; this friend publicly criticized the king! Can you imagine the audacity? You'd think that would be the end of the friendship, maybe even the end of the friend. But here’s the twist: instead of banishing him, the king makes him his protégé! He keeps him close, right there in the palace, eating the king’s own food. Why? So he wouldn't move from the palace.

It sounds wild, doesn't it? A king rewarding someone who openly criticized him? But that's precisely the point. It’s about the unfathomable nature of divine grace.

Who does this story remind us of? Aaron.

According to the Rabbis, Aaron was equal to all of Israel in stature (as the Sages state), which is really saying something. But here's the kicker: he was also involved, albeit with different intent, in the infamous incident of the Golden Calf. You remember that story. While Moses was up on Mount Sinai receiving the Torah, the people got impatient and pressured Aaron to create a golden idol. A pretty huge mistake.

You'd think that would disqualify him from any position of leadership. But what does God do? He selects Aaron to be the Kohen Gadol, the High Priest! He says to him, "He shall not emerge from the Sanctuary" (Leviticus 21:12). And just like the king's friend, Aaron "ate the remnants of the Holy One blessed be He," as it says, "The remnant of the meal-offering [is for Aaron]" (Leviticus 2:10). Aaron, despite his misstep, is brought closer than ever to God. Aaron, who faltered, is chosen to serve in the most sacred role. He's given access to the holiest spaces, and he partakes in the offerings brought to God. It's a powerful message about redemption, about forgiveness, and about the potential for even those who have stumbled to rise to greatness.

What does this mean for us? Maybe it means that our mistakes don't define us. Maybe it means that even when we mess up, there's still a chance for us to draw near, to be chosen, to dwell in God's courtyards. Maybe it means that sometimes, the greatest leaders are the ones who know what it's like to fall.

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Shemot Rabbah 51:7Shemot Rabbah

In Shemot Rabbah, it’s deeply connected to the very essence of Jewish survival and destiny. The name itself hints at its purpose. The "Testimony" isn't just a set of rules – it's the Torah itself, the very act of engaging with it, wrestling with its meaning, that serves as a powerful force in our lives. why would the Torah be called a "testimony"? The Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) tells us that God said our commitment to Torah study and offering sacrifices would be the key to salvation from Gehenna – often translated as "hell," but perhaps better understood as a state of spiritual punishment.

The story goes even deeper. The Midrash connects this idea all the way back to Abraham, our patriarch. Remember the vision Abraham has in (Genesis 15:17)? "Behold, a smoking furnace, and a flaming torch that passed between those pieces.” This, according to Shemot Rabbah, isn't just a dramatic scene. It's a symbolic representation of the Torah and Gehenna. The association of fire and smoke appears again in (Exodus 20:15) – “The entire people was seeing the thunder, the flames…and the mountain smoking…”.

What about the offerings? (Genesis 15:9) provides the source: “A three-year-old heifer, a three-year-old goat…”. And the exiles? They’re foreshadowed in the “fear” that fell upon Abraham in (Genesis 15:12).

These exiles aren't just a vague threat. The Midrash cleverly interprets different aspects of Abraham's vision as allusions to specific historical exiles. "Fear," eima, is linked to Babylon, drawing a parallel between the word eima and the description of the Chaldeans in (Habakkuk 1:6-7) as ayom, “terryifying”. "Darkness" represents Media, which "darkened the eyes of Israel with its edicts.” "Great" symbolizes Greece, referencing the "exceedingly great" goat in (Daniel 8:8). And "fell upon him" signifies Edom (Rome), connecting it to the earth-quaking fall described in (Jeremiah 49:21).

So, God presents Abraham with a choice: How will his descendants be purged of wrongdoing? Through Gehenna or through exile? Rav Ḥanina bar Pappa says Abraham chose exile. But how do we know that? The Midrash points to (Deuteronomy 32:30): "If not that their rock had sold them." The "rock" here, according to (Isaiah 51:1), is Abraham himself: "Look to the rock from which you were hewn." God then "handed them over," agreeing to Abraham's choice.

Rav Huna, quoting Rav Aḥa and Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi, adds a layer of complexity. Abraham was unsure, hesitating over which path to choose. God guided him towards exile. This idea is beautifully captured in (Psalm 66:12): "You let people ride over our heads; we went through fire and water, but You took us out to comfort." The "fire and water" represent Gehenna, while exile is the path through which God ultimately offers comfort and redemption.

So, what does all this mean for us today? The Midrash concludes by returning to the Tabernacle of Testimony. As long as we, the descendants of Abraham, engage in Torah study and perform acts of service – acts that echo the ancient offerings – that very engagement serves as a testimony, a safeguard, against descending into the depths of spiritual punishment. It’s a powerful reminder that our actions, our commitment to Jewish tradition, have real and lasting consequences, shaping not only our present but also our ultimate destiny. Food for thought, isn't it?

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