That bittersweet feeling is ancient, deeply human, and, believe it or not, it echoes in the story of Moses and the Exodus. : Moses. MOSES! The guy who stood up to Pharaoh, who parted the Red Sea… he didn't get to walk into the Promised Land with the Israelites. It’s a gut punch. Shemot Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations of the Book of Exodus, sheds light on this poignant moment. It starts with the verse, “It was when Pharaoh let [the people] go…” (Exodus 13:17). In Hebrew, "it was" is vayhi. But the text doesn’t focus on Pharaoh. Instead, it asks: Who was actually saying “woe” at this moment? The answer might surprise you: Moses himself.
The Midrash, in Shemot Rabbah 20, uses a beautiful analogy to explain this. Imagine someone chosen as the groomsman for a king's daughter. This groomsman sees in the stars that he'll be the one to lead her out of her father’s house. He's instrumental in her leaving. But—and here’s the kicker—he also sees that he won’t be there to accompany her to the groom’s house, to her chuppah, the wedding canopy. He won't see her married.
What does he do? He cries.
His friends are confused. “Why are you crying? You succeeded!”
And he explains, “I’m crying because I exerted myself to take her out, but I’m not coming with her to her wedding canopy.”
That, the Midrash suggests, is exactly how Moses felt. “I am crying because I exerted myself to take Israel out of Egypt, but I will not enter the Land with them.” That tiny word, vayhi, "it was," becomes a lament. A quiet acknowledgement of a dream realized for others, but denied to him.
It’s a powerful image, isn't it? We often focus on the grand victories, the miracles, the triumphant moments. But Shemot Rabbah reminds us to look at the cost, at the sacrifices made along the way. Moses, the ultimate leader, experiences a profound sense of loss, a bittersweet joy. He got them out of Egypt, but he wouldn't see them safely home.
This Midrash isn’t just about Moses, though. It’s about all of us. How often do we dedicate ourselves to a cause, a project, a relationship, knowing that we might not be there for the final celebration? How often do we pour our energy into something, only to have to let go before reaching the ultimate goal?
Maybe, just maybe, recognizing that shared human experience, that bittersweet vayhi, can give us a little comfort. Maybe it can even give us a deeper appreciation for the journey itself, even if we don't get to see the final destination.