Moses certainly did.
The Torah tells us, in Exodus 2:12, that Moses "turned this way and that, and he saw that there was no man..." Now, the Zohar" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="source-link">Tikkunei_Zohar" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="source-link">Tikkunei Zohar, a central text of Kabbalah, doesn't take that literally. It's not saying there were no actual people around. Instead, it's offering a profound critique of society.
What did Moses really see? The Tikkunei Zohar in Tikkunei Zohar 43 suggests he saw a world where everyone was absorbed in their own affairs, chasing their own self-interest. As it says, "each man had turned to his own way, with their own occupations, with their own journeys… each man to his own profit from his own quarter, with the profit of this world, in order to inherit this world."
Think about it. How often do we get caught up in the daily grind, focused solely on our own needs and desires? Are we truly seeing each other? Are we seeing the bigger picture?
The Tikkunei Zohar contrasts this self-centeredness with the qualities of true leadership, drawing on Exodus 18:21: "...men of valour, those who fear ELQYM [God], men of truth, haters of illicit gain..." These are the people who are attuned to something higher, who act with integrity and compassion. They are the opposite of those solely focused on "the profit of this world."
And then comes the really sharp critique. The Tikkunei Zohar describes those lost in self-interest as being like dogs crying out on Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. They brazenly demand, "Give! Give us sustenance, and forgiveness and atonement and life – write us for life!"
Ouch.
Why dogs? The text equates this behavior with the nations of the world, "who cry out to Him and have no shame." They’re just barking orders, focused on their immediate needs without any sense of humility or genuine repentance. No real introspection. It’s a harsh image, but it forces us to confront the potential for hypocrisy in our own prayers and actions.
Are we truly seeking forgiveness and change, or are we just going through the motions, demanding what we think we deserve? Are we looking "this way and that" and actually seeing the world around us, or are we too caught up in our own little bubbles?
The Tikkunei Zohar challenges us to be better. To be more mindful, more compassionate, and more attuned to the needs of others. It calls us to move beyond self-interest and strive for a more meaningful and connected existence. Maybe that's what Moses was searching for – and what we should be searching for too.