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Who Stepped Forward Before God Called Them

Nahshon walked into the sea while everyone else waited on the shore. Abraham set a table before the angels arrived. God owes the one who moves first.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Prince Who Walked Into the Sea
  2. What God Owes the One Who Moves First
  3. Abraham Who Set the Table Before Anyone Knocked
  4. The Map That Puts the Bold in the East

The Prince Who Walked Into the Sea

Numbers 2:3 lists the tribal banners in the dry order of a military census. East, south, west, north. Judah leads the eastern formation. Nahshon son of Aminadav stands at the head of Judah. The Torah gives no reason for the placement. Bamidbar Rabbah supplied one.

Judah camps to the east because east is where light first breaks in the morning, and Nahshon is the man who broke first into something that no one else would enter. When Israel stood on the bank of the Reed Sea with Pharaoh's chariots behind them and the water in front of them and Moses with his staff raised, everyone waited. They waited for a miracle. They waited for the water to part before they stepped. Nahshon stepped first.

He walked in up to his knees. The water did not move. He walked in up to his chest. Nothing. He walked in up to his nose. The water was at his mouth when the sea split.

Bamidbar Rabbah built a cosmos around this fact. God founded the earth and set four directions around it: east for light, south for blessing, west for the storehouses of snow and hail, north for darkness. He surrounded His throne with four angels matched to those directions: Mikhael, Gavriel, Uriel, Refael. He arranged the twelve tribes as a mirror of that map in the wilderness. And He put Nahshon at the head of the eastern formation, the direction of first light, because Nahshon was the man who acted before the light came.

What God Owes the One Who Moves First

Bamidbar Rabbah asked a question that sounds almost insolent. Job 41:3 asks: Who has preceded me, that I should repay him? The verse is God speaking, asserting that no one gives to God before God gives to them. No one puts God in debt. No one acts first.

The midrash looked at Nahshon's wet feet and disagreed. Nahshon stepped into the sea before the sea moved. He acted before the miracle. The promise of the exodus was in the air, but the water was real and cold and the horses were behind him. He moved first.

And what does God owe him? The midrash's answer was unsettling in its completeness. God owes him everything. Not a reward commensurate with a single brave act. Everything. The person who moves before God's instruction arrives, who creates the conditions for the miracle by already being in the water when the miracle needs somewhere to happen, that person stands in a different relationship to providence than everyone who waits on the bank.

Abraham Who Set the Table Before Anyone Knocked

Nahshon was not the first to move before being asked. Abraham, sitting at the entrance of his tent in the heat of the day, looked up and saw three men standing near him (Genesis 18:2). He ran to meet them. He pressed them to stay. He told Sarah to bake and ordered a servant to prepare a calf. He set out curds and milk and the prepared meat and stood beside them while they ate.

Bamidbar Rabbah read this scene through the lens of the Nahshon question. Abraham did not know these were angels. He acted toward strangers the way he acted toward everyone: with urgency, with abundance, with the assumption that hospitality was required now rather than after assessment. He moved first. He did not wait for the visitors to ask for water, for bread, for shade. He saw people in the heat and he ran.

The angels who came to Abraham's tent were carrying the announcement of Isaac's birth. They came with the beginning of the promise. And Abraham had already begun serving them before they arrived, in the sense that his character had always been moving toward this moment. His hospitality was not a response to a divine visit. It was the condition that made a divine visit possible at that address.

The Map That Puts the Bold in the East

The cosmic map of the wilderness camp is not arbitrary. East is light and east is Judah and east is Nahshon and east is the person who walks into the cold water before the miracle is confirmed. The arrangement of the camp around the Tabernacle, with Judah to the east and the four camp-clusters mirroring the four divine angels around the throne, is a statement about what kind of human being God places closest to the source of light.

Not the most powerful tribe. Not the tribe with the most warriors. The tribe whose prince walked in nose-deep before anything moved. The one who, when the water was at his mouth, had not turned back.

Bamidbar Rabbah returned to this image from different angles across its twelve chapters because the question it raised would not stay answered. What does God owe the person who moves first? The midrash kept saying: everything. And kept showing, in Abraham, in Nahshon, in the arrangement of the camp itself, what everything looks like when it is paid.


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Bamidbar Rabbah 2:10Bamidbar Rabbah

Bamidbar Rabbah turns to Nahshon in Battle.

Chapter 2 of Bamidbar (Numbers), starts with this: "Those who encamp to the east, the banner of the camp of Judah, according to their hosts, and the prince of the children of Judah is Nahshon, son of Aminadav." Seems straightforward. But Bamidbar Rabbah, a classical collection of Midrashic (rabbinic interpretive commentary) interpretations, takes this simple verse and explodes it with meaning.

The key, according to the Midrash, lies in the verse, "The Lord founded the earth with wisdom, [established the heavens with understanding]" (Proverbs 3:19). The Holy One, blessed be He, created the four directions – east, west, north, and south – each with its unique properties. East is where light emerges, West holds the storehouses of snow and hail, South brings dews and rains of blessing, and North… well, North is where darkness comes from.

Here's where it gets really interesting. Just as God created these four directions, He also surrounded His Throne with four beasts. Corresponding to these, He arranged the banners of the tribes for Moses.

So, what's the connection? God tells Moses that the east, the source of light, corresponds to Judah, the tribe destined for kingship. As it says, "Those who encamp to the east, the banner of the camp of Judah" (Numbers 2:3). With Judah are the tribes of Issachar, possessors of Torah wisdom ("From the children of Issachar, possessors of understanding of the times" - (1 Chronicles 12:3)3), and Zebulun, possessors of wealth ("Zebulun [will dwell] at the seashore, [and he shall be a shore for ships]" - (Genesis 49:1)3).

The Midrash emphasizes Judah's primacy. Judah is first in encampment, first in travel ("They shall travel first" - Numbers 2:9), first in offerings ("The one who presented [his offering on the first day was Nahshon, son of Aminadav, of the tribe of Judah]" - (Numbers 7:1)2), and first in war ("Who will ascend first against the Canaanites for us…? The Lord said: Judah will ascend" - (Judges 1:1)–2). Even when the herald comes to announce redemption, Judah will hear the news first ("The feet of the herald are upon the mountains, announcing peace. Celebrate your feasts, Judah" - Nahum 2:1).

The south, the direction of blessing, corresponds to Reuben, the tribe of repentance. "The banner of the camp of Reuben is to the south…" (Numbers 2:10). Repentance is powerful, because God's mercy comes upon those who turn back to Him. With Reuben are Gad, known for their warriors ("Gad will wage war by regiment" - (Genesis 49:1)9), and Simeon, positioned to atone for past sins.

Moving westward, where the storehouses of snow and hail reside, we find Ephraim, Manasseh, and Benjamin. These tribes, the Midrash suggests, can withstand the "snow and hail", the harsh judgments of the world. "Rouse Your might before Ephraim, Benjamin, and Manasseh" (Psalms 80:3). The Divine Presence, the Shekhinah (the Divine Presence), is always in the west, on the border of Benjamin, as it is stated: "Of Benjamin he said: The beloved, [the Lord will dwell in safety with him; He covers over him all the day, and He rests between his shoulders]" (Deuteronomy 33:12).

Finally, the north, the direction of darkness, corresponds to the tribe of Dan. Why Dan? Because, the Midrash says, they brought darkness into the world through idol worship. Yerovam, a king of Israel, crafted two golden calves, and the tribe of Dan was the first to embrace this idolatry ("The king consulted, and he crafted two golden calves…and he placed one in Dan" - (1 (Kings 12:2)8)–29). But even in darkness, there is hope. With Dan are the tribes of Asher, who illuminate the darkness ("Blessed…and he dips his foot in oil" - (Deuteronomy 33:2)4), and Naphtali, who provides sustenance.

The Midrash concludes with a beautiful parallel. Just as God created four directions and four corresponding banners, He also surrounded His throne with four angels: Mikhael, Gavriel, Uriel, and Refael. Each angel corresponds to a direction and a tribe, embodying the qualities associated with them.

Mikhael, corresponding to Reuben in the south, embodies God’s question: "Who is like You [mikhamokha]" (Exodus 15:11)? Uriel, corresponding to Dan in the north, brings light to the darkness through Torah. Gavriel, corresponding to Judah in the east, embodies strength and leadership. And Refael, corresponding to Ephraim in the west, heals the breaches and wounds of the world.

So, what does this all mean? It's more than just a history lesson. It's a reminder that everything is connected. The physical world, the spiritual realm, the tribes of Israel, even the angels themselves – all are interwoven in a cosmic tapestry, reflecting God's wisdom and understanding. And perhaps, within this ancient map, we can find our own place, our own direction, and our own potential to bring light into the world.

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Bamidbar Rabbah 14:2Bamidbar Rabbah

The Bamidbar Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic teachings on the Book of Numbers, explores this very idea through a verse from Job: "Who preceded Me, that I should repay? Everything under heaven is Mine" (Job 41:3). It's a powerful question, isn't it? Who could possibly give something to God that God doesn't already possess?

Rabbi Tanchum ben Rabbi Abba offers a beautiful interpretation: He says that the verse refers to someone who does good deeds despite lacking resources. Someone who doesn't have much money but still gives to charity. Someone who has no children but still supports Torah teachers. Someone who can barely afford a home but still puts up a mezuza (a parchment scroll with verses from the Torah inscribed on it, traditionally affixed to doorframes). Someone who can't afford new clothes but still makes sure to wear tzitzit (ritual fringes). Someone who makes an effort to fulfill mitzvot (commandments) even before they feel ready.

The Holy One, blessed be He, sees this and says, "This one preceded Me! They fulfilled My mitzvot before I even provided them with the means!" And the promise is that God will repay, providing them with the resources they need, like money or children who will continue their good work. Because, ultimately, everything belongs to God anyway.

The Bamidbar Rabbah doesn't stop there. It goes on to say that this verse also applies to Abraham. Abraham recognized the Holy One on his own, without any prior teaching or guidance. As (Proverbs 14:14) says, "A wayward heart will be sated from its ways, but a good man will be above him." Rabbi Abba bar Kahana explains that the "wayward heart" is one full of impurities and destined to remain earthbound. But the "good man," like Abraham, rises to spiritual heights.

Abraham is presented as one of four people who recognized the Holy One on their own. The others were Job, Hezekiah, and the Messianic king. Abraham recognized God and made His name known in the world, and in return, God promised him both this world and the world to come, as it says, "Blessed is Abram to God, the Most High, Master of heaven and earth" (Genesis 14:19).

Rabbi Elazar ben Rabbi Ḥiyya takes this idea a step further, suggesting that everything Abraham did for the angels who visited him was repaid to his descendants during the Exodus from Egypt and will be repaid again in the future. Remember when Abraham offered the angels water to wash their feet and rest under a tree (Genesis 18:4)? The Bamidbar Rabbah sees echoes of this in God providing water for the Israelites in the desert (Exodus 17:6) and promising a land of flowing water in the future (Deuteronomy 8:7, (Isaiah 30:25), (Isaiah 41:1)8). The hospitality Abraham showed by offering shelter is mirrored in God sheltering the Israelites in booths (sukkot) during their journey (Leviticus 23:43) and promising future protection (Isaiah 4:6).

The text also connects this idea to Joseph, who, according to Rabbi Yoḥanan, observed the Shabbat (the Sabbath) even before the Torah was given. When Joseph told his servants to "Slaughter an animal and prepare it" (Genesis 43:16), it was the day before Shabbat, and "prepare" meant preparing for the holy day. Because Joseph honored the Shabbat before it was commanded, God promised that his descendant, the prince of the tribe of Ephraim, would have his offering readily accepted on Shabbat, even though individual offerings weren't usually made on that day.

So, what's the takeaway here? It seems to be this: that our actions, especially those done with intention and generosity, have a ripple effect. When we act with kindness and faith, even when it's difficult or inconvenient, we're not just fulfilling a commandment – we're setting in motion a chain of blessings that will extend far beyond ourselves, impacting our descendants and the world around us. It reminds us that even the smallest acts of goodness can have profound and lasting consequences. As (Ecclesiastes 11:1) says, "Cast your bread upon the water, for after many days you will find it."

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Bamidbar Rabbah 12:8Bamidbar Rabbah

It all starts with a verse from the Song of Songs (3:11): "Go out and gaze, daughters of Zion, at King Solomon, at the crown with which his mother crowned him on the day of his wedding, and on the day of the rejoicing of his heart."

What does this have to do with seeing the Divine? The Rabbis interpret this verse as referring to the moment the Divine Presence, the Shekhinah (the Divine Presence), rested upon the Tabernacle, the portable sanctuary the Israelites built in the desert. It's like they're saying: "Go out and see the Divine Presence, just like the people did when they "saw, shouted, and fell on their faces" (Leviticus 9:24)."

The text then makes a fascinating link between being able to see the Divine and circumcision. "The daughters of Zion," it says, alludes to "those who are marked for Him with circumcision." Without it, they wouldn't be able to look at the Divine Presence. They would have fallen, just like Abraham did before his circumcision, as we see in (Genesis 17:3): "Abram fell on his face, and God spoke with him." Even Bilaam, the non-Israelite prophet, "falls with uncovered eyes" (Numbers 24:4, 16) when receiving his prophecy.

Why this emphasis on circumcision? The text links it to a moment of readiness, of purification. Just as a storekeeper must remove impurity from his house before inviting a priest, so too must we remove any "blemish" before we can truly be in God's presence. The passage drives this point home with a powerful analogy. God desired to appear to Abraham, but a foreskin still remained on him. Only once he circumcised himself "on that very day" (Genesis 17:26), did "The Lord appear to him" (Genesis 18:1).

But the passage doesn't stop there. It goes on to offer multiple interpretations of "King Solomon" (Shelomo in Hebrew). It's not just about the historical king, but about a deeper concept of completeness, of shelemim. Solomon represents the King who desires faultless people, as God commanded Abraham: "Walk before Me and be faultless" (Genesis 17:1).

The text continues: Solomon is the King who created His creations complete. Bar Kappara even suggests that Adam and Eve were created as twenty-year-olds – in their full stature! It's a vision of a world brought into being in a state of wholeness and perfection.

And it gets even more profound. Solomon is also the King who makes peace – shalom – between his creations. We find this idea beautifully illustrated with the imagery of fire and water, seemingly opposing forces existing in harmony. He made peace between fire and Abraham, the sword and Isaac, and angels and Jacob. The heavenly beasts are of fire, and the firmament is of snow, yet "neither does this one extinguish that one, nor does that one consume this one." Even within a single angel, with its multiple faces described in (Daniel 10:6), peace reigns.

This theme of peace extends even to the plagues in Egypt! Remember the hail and fire? (Exodus 9:24) tells us, "There was hail and fire igniting [mitlakaḥat] within the hail." Rabbi Yehuda and Rabbi Nehemya offer different explanations, but the core idea is the same: even in devastation, there's a miraculous harmony, a divine purpose at work. Rav Ada compares it to two powerful legions who, despite their differences, unite to fight for their king.

The passage concludes with an exploration of the "crown" mentioned in the verse. Rabbi Yitzḥak points out that the Bible doesn't say Bathsheba made a crown for Solomon. Instead, the "crown" is interpreted as the Tent of Meeting, adorned with precious materials. Rabbi Shimon ben Yoḥai even relates a story of a king who loved his daughter so much he called her both his sister and his mother, drawing a parallel to God's love for Israel.

This passage from Bamidbar Rabbah invites us to contemplate what it means to truly see the Divine. It's not just about physical sight, but about a deeper readiness, a state of wholeness, and an embrace of peace. It's about recognizing the Divine Presence in the world around us, even in the midst of seeming contradictions and chaos. It's a powerful reminder that to truly connect with the Divine, we must strive for completeness, for harmony, and for peace within ourselves and in the world. So, what does it mean for you to "go out and gaze?"

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Bamidbar Rabbah 13:7Bamidbar Rabbah

It’s why the Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary), specifically Bamidbar Rabbah 13, dwells on his name, his lineage, and his pivotal role.

The passage begins by asking a simple question: why was he called Naḥshon? The answer, the Midrash tells us, is tied directly to his act of courage. His name, Naḥshon, is linked to the Hebrew word naḥshol, meaning "wave." He was the first to descend into the wave, the first to trust that a path would open where none seemed possible. It wasn't just blind faith either.

Rabbi Shimon ben Yoḥai, a central figure in the mystical tradition, adds a powerful layer to this story. He says that God told Moses, "The one who sanctified My name at the sea, he will present first." In other words, Naḥshon's bravery earned him the privilege of bringing the first offering. Among a nation facing annihilation, one person steps forward. One person embodies the faith and courage needed to trigger the miracle. That person was Naḥshon, and that is why he was chosen. As Bamidbar Rabbah emphasizes, that is why we read, "Naḥshon son of Aminadav…"

The Midrash isn’t content with just praising Naḥshon. It wants to make sure his act isn't diminished in any way. It asks, “Or, perhaps, he collected from his tribe and brought?” Did he simply gather contributions from his fellow Israelites? The text firmly rejects this idea, quoting (Numbers 7:17): “This was the offering of Naḥshon son of Aminadav.” The offering was his own, a personal act of devotion and leadership.

So, if he brought the offering himself, why the need to specify "Naḥshon son of Aminadav, of the tribe of Judah"? Why emphasize his lineage? Here, the Midrash returns to its central theme: praise. Praise for him, praise for his father, praise for his tribe. By highlighting his connection to Judah, the text elevates Naḥshon, recognizing that his courage wasn't a fluke, but something inherent in his character and upbringing. He was who he was, from where he came from, and he did what he did on his own.

What's so compelling about this passage is that it highlights the power of individual action within a larger narrative. Naḥshon wasn't just a face in the crowd. He was a leader, a symbol of unwavering faith, and a reminder that sometimes, all it takes is one person to take that first step, to plunge into the unknown, to set the stage for miracles to unfold.

It makes you wonder: where in our own lives are we being called to be a Naḥshon? Where are we standing at the edge of our own Red Seas, waiting for the courage to take that first, terrifying, faith-filled step?

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