I can't possibly do that!" Well, Moses felt that way too. Let's dive into a fascinating interpretation of the Song of Songs that reveals Moses's very human anxieties.
The verse we're looking at is Song of Songs 1:7: "Tell me, he whom my soul loves, where do you herd, where do you rest your flock at noon? Why should I be as one bound to the flocks of your companions?" It sounds like a lover's lament, right? But Shir HaShirim Rabbah, the rabbinic commentary on Song of Songs, sees something deeper.
Rabbi Yehuda bar Rabbi Simon interprets this verse as being about Moses. Think about it: God tells Moses, "Now go, and I will send you to Pharaoh" (Exodus 3:10). Pretty daunting! According to this midrash, Moses's response wasn't just simple obedience. Instead, he questioned God. "Master of the universe," he essentially says, "can all this really be accomplished through me?"
The text cleverly plays on words here. Moses asks, "Through me [bi], my Lord?" which echoes the plea, "Please [bi] my Lord" from Exodus 4:13, where Moses is begging to be excused from the mission.
Why the hesitation? Moses worries about the immense responsibility. How can he possibly stand before such a massive multitude of Israelites? He imagines all the new mothers, the pregnant women, the little children. He even visualizes the specific dietary needs of each group! "How many kinds of hearty food have You prepared for the new mothers among them? How many kinds of soft foods have You prepared for the pregnant women among them? How much roasted grain and how many nuts have You prepared for the small children among them?"
It's a powerful image, isn't it? Moses isn't just thinking about freeing the Israelites; he's thinking about their well-being, their individual needs. He's overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the task.
Where do we find this articulated? Right here, in the Song of Songs! “Tell me, he whom my soul loves"—the nation that my soul loves, the nation for whom I put my soul on the line; “where do you herd”—during the summer; “where do you rest your flock at noon”—during the rainy season." Moses is concerned about the nation's welfare in every season, in every circumstance.
Rabbi Helbo, in the name of Rabbi Huna, offers another interpretation of "Why should I be as one bound [keoteya]?" He suggests: "Let me not be like this mourner who covers [oteh] until his upper lip and weeps," referencing the ritual mourning practice described in Leviticus 13:45. Moses doesn't want to be a leader who's only capable of expressing grief and despair. He wants to be effective, to bring about real change.
Another possibility is that Moses doesn't want to be like a shepherd who abandons his flock when wolves attack. Instead, he envisions the shepherd who "will wrap the land of Egypt" (Jeremiah 43:12), protecting it and caring for it.
Finally, Moses expresses concern about facing the patriarchs. "To the flocks of your companions," he says, meaning, when I go to Your companions – Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob – and they ask me about their descendants, the Israelite nation, what will I tell them? How can he answer if he fails?
So, what does this all mean? This midrash isn't just about Moses's reluctance; it's about the burden of leadership, the weight of responsibility, and the very human fear of inadequacy. It reminds us that even the greatest figures in our tradition wrestled with doubt and uncertainty. They questioned, they worried, they felt overwhelmed.
Perhaps that’s the most comforting takeaway. Even when faced with seemingly impossible tasks, like leading an entire nation out of slavery, it's okay to feel a little overwhelmed. It's okay to ask questions. It's okay to wonder, "Can I really do this?" The key, it seems, is to acknowledge those feelings, and then, like Moses, to find the strength to step forward anyway.