That feeling resonates deeply in a powerful passage from Bamidbar Rabbah 16. It explores the fraught relationship between God and the Israelites, focusing on their repeated rejection of divine counsel.
The passage begins with a stinging question from God: "Until when will this people provoke Me?" It's a cry of frustration, echoing the words in Proverbs (1:25, 1:30): "You nullified all my counsel and are unwilling to receive my rebuke." The Hebrew word used here, vatifre’u, isn't just about rejecting advice. It suggests a corruption, a spoiling of all the good that God intended. It’s like being given a precious gift and deliberately breaking it.
Think about it: God descended to deliver them from Egypt (Exodus 3:8), but they resisted even then, clinging to their idols. As Ezekiel (20:5-8) reminds us, God called on them to abandon those idols, but they refused. Then, at the Red Sea, they were "defiant" (Psalms 106:7), immediately ruining the divine plan.
The text continues with a vivid image. Imagine thousands upon thousands of angels descending, each Israelite receiving two – one armed for protection, the other placing a crown upon their head. Rabbi Yehuda of Tzippori even suggests they were armed with weapons, while Rabbi Simai says they were adorned in royal purple garments, inscribed with the ineffable name of God. These garments would have been an invincible protection, shielding them from evil and even the angel of death. But when they sinned, Moses commanded them to remove their ornaments (Exodus 33:5-6), and they were stripped of that divine protection.
Then comes a particularly striking Midrashic interpretation. Rabbi Elazar son of Rabbi Yosei HaGelili paints a scene where the angel of death protests to God, "Was I created in the world for nothing?" God replies that the angel's domain is over idol worshippers, but not over this chosen nation. This connects to the idea of freedom, ḥerut in Hebrew. The Torah, the very words of God, were ḥarut, engraved on the tablets (Exodus 32:16). Rabbi Yehuda says this meant freedom from kingdoms, Rabbi Nehemya says freedom from the angel of death, and Rabbi [Yehuda Hanasi] says freedom from suffering.
But within forty days, the Israelites corrupted this counsel. They built the Golden Calf.
The passage then takes a somber turn, quoting Psalms 82:6-7: "I had said: You are divine, like beings on High, all of you… yet as men [adam] you will die." God intended them to be immortal, like the ministering angels, but their actions condemned them to mortality, like Adam. Adam, who was given one commandment and failed. As Genesis (1:27) says, "God created man in his image," intending for him to live and endure like God. But Adam's sin led to the decree: "For you are dust, and to dust you shall return" (Genesis 3:19).
The text doesn’t stop there. Even the manna, the miraculous food that sustained them in the wilderness for forty years, became a source of complaint. They ate the "bread of the mighty" (Psalms 78:25), which the Midrash interprets as meaning it became "limbs" – perfectly nourishing them. Yet they grumbled, "Our soul loathes this insubstantial bread" (Numbers 21:5). It's a powerful illustration of ingratitude.
And what about the spies sent to scout the land of Canaan? God, in God's mercy, even manipulated events to protect them. According to Bamidbar Rabbah, in every province the spies entered, the leader would be struck dead, distracting the inhabitants and preventing them from harming the spies. But the spies, focusing only on the death they witnessed, returned with a negative report: "A land that consumes its inhabitants" (Numbers 13:32). They saw only death where God had provided protection.
The passage closes with a lament, comparing Israel to a vineyard that yields only inferior grapes (Isaiah 5:4). God had hoped they would be "like grapes in the wilderness" (Hosea 9:10), a source of sweetness and delight. Instead, they became "like Sodom" (Deuteronomy 32:32).
So, what does this all mean for us? Perhaps it's a reminder to appreciate the gifts we've been given, both big and small. To recognize the divine hand in our lives, even when things seem difficult. And, most importantly, to avoid the trap of rejecting wise counsel, especially when it comes from a place of love and care. It’s a warning against squandering the potential for greatness that lies within each of us. After all, who wants to be remembered for dropping the ball when they could have caught it and run towards the end zone?