The ancient collection of teachings known as Midrash Tehillim (a commentary on the Book of Psalms) grapples with this very question. Psalm 136 praises God, saying, "To the One who does great wonders alone." But wait a minute... "Alone?" Did God really do it all by Himself?

Midrash Tehillim doesn't take that literally. Instead, it suggests that God's wonders are often so subtle, so intricately woven into the fabric of our lives, that we simply don't perceive them. He alone knows the extent of the miracles He performs on our behalf.

Think about it. Imagine you're asleep, and a snake slithers across your floor. You wake up, get out of bed, and only later realize a snake had been right there! You might never fully grasp the divine intervention that protected you. As it is written in Psalms 40:6, "Many things You have done, O Lord my God, Your wonders and Your thoughts towards us; there is none to be compared with You. If I would declare and speak of them, they are too numerous to recount."

Even the person who experiences the miracle, Rabbi Elazar points out, may not even recognize it as such. It happened "alone," unseen, unacknowledged.

Rav Yosef expounds on this idea with a powerful illustration, drawing on Isaiah 12:1. The verse reads, "I will praise You, O Lord, for though You were angry with me, Your anger has turned away, and You have comforted me." But what’s the story behind this verse?

Two business partners embark on a venture. One gets a thorn prick – a minor annoyance. He curses and complains. Then, news arrives that his partner’s ship has sunk at sea, a catastrophic loss. Suddenly, the first man is filled with gratitude, offering thanks and praise. What seemed like a curse was actually a blessing in disguise, a tiny discomfort that shielded him from a much greater tragedy. "Let Your anger turn away, and comfort me," he now proclaims, understanding dawning.

It's a humbling thought, isn't it? That so many kindnesses, so many acts of protection, might pass us by unnoticed. We might curse the small pricks while remaining blissfully unaware of the shipwrecks we’ve been spared.

The Midrash urges us to cultivate a deeper awareness, a sensitivity to the unseen hand that guides our lives. It's a reminder to look beyond the obvious, to consider the possibility that even in moments of difficulty, wonders are unfolding, blessings are being bestowed, often in ways we can scarcely imagine. Perhaps the challenge, then, isn't just to praise God for the miracles we do see, but to trust in the ones we don't, to recognize the profound truth that even in the shadows, we are held, protected, and guided by a love that surpasses all understanding.