The story goes that Moses, up on Mount Sinai, wasn’t just getting the Ten Commandments. He was getting a download of, well, everything. The past, the present, and, crucially, the future. And some of what he saw regarding the future of the Jewish people wasn’t pretty. Not at all.
He turned to God, according to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, and essentially said, "Enough is enough! 'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.'" In other words, let the people deal with today's problems; don't burden them with tomorrow's potential sorrows.
And here’s the kicker: God agreed. Imagine that! The Creator of the Universe admitting that maybe, just maybe, He was laying it on a bit thick. He admitted, essentially, that knowing too much about future suffering wouldn’t be helpful. It would only amplify the present pain. A powerful admission, right? It suggests a profound understanding of human psychology and the delicate balance between knowledge and hope.
But the story doesn't end there. God then clarifies something fascinating to Moses. "My words about the future," He says, "were meant for thee alone, not also for them." This is crucial. Some knowledge, some burdens, are meant for leaders, for those who bear the responsibility of guiding a people. It's a lonely role, carrying the weight of potential future sorrows, but it’s a necessary one.
Then comes a rather cryptic, but ultimately beautiful, passage. God tells Moses to tell the children of Israel some pretty wild things. That at His behest, an angel can stretch his hand from heaven and touch the earth. That three angels can squeeze together under one tree. And that His majesty can fill the entire world, despite appearing to Job in his hair or in a thorn bush.
What’s going on here? Why this sudden shift to seemingly impossible scenarios?
Perhaps it’s about perspective. About reminding us that God is beyond our comprehension, beyond our limitations. He can be immense, filling the cosmos, and yet also intimate, present in the smallest, most unexpected places. He can send angels to bridge the gap between heaven and earth, defying the natural order.
Maybe, after the heavy discussion about future suffering, this was a reminder of God's power, His presence, and His ability to work in ways we can’t even begin to imagine. A reminder that even in the face of hardship, there is always room for wonder, for hope, and for the divine to manifest in the most unexpected ways. To see God in the vastness of the universe AND in the humble thorn bush.
So, what do we take away from this? Maybe it’s a lesson in the responsible use of knowledge. A reminder that sometimes, less is more, especially when it comes to burdens. Or maybe it’s a call to recognize the divine in the everyday, to see the extraordinary in the ordinary, and to trust that even when we can't see the whole picture, God is present, in ways both grand and intimately small. Food for thought, isn’t it?