Parashat Va'era introduces us to the dramatic opening chapters of redemption. Seven of the ten plagues unfold before our eyes, yet beneath the miracles and the spectacle lies a quieter and deeper story. It is the story of transformation.
These parshiyot are not only about leaving Egypt physically. They are about learning how to leave slavery emotionally, psychologically, and spiritually. After 210 years of servitude, slavery is not just a condition. It is an identity. It is what you are born into, what you breathe, what defines the limits of your imagination. Freedom can be frightening when you have never known another way of being.
At the same time, the plagues are not only about freeing Am Yisrael. They are also about teaching Egypt to let go. To let go of power, of habit, of control, and of a worldview that placed humans at the center and God at the margins. Each plague dismantles something the Egyptians relied on, trusted, or worshipped, until the foundations of their reality begin to collapse.
Within this dramatic narrative, there is a subtle detail that often goes unnoticed.
The first three plagues, blood, frogs, and lice, are not performed by Moshe. Instead, Moshe instructs Aharon to strike the Nile and the earth. Only afterward does Moshe take an active role in bringing the remaining plagues.
Why does Moshe step back.
Chazal explain that Moshe shows gratitude. Gratitude to the Nile that protected him as a baby, and gratitude to the earth that concealed the Egyptian he killed. Because of that, Moshe would not raise his hand against them.
It is a beautiful teaching, but it raises a deeper question.
The Nile does not feel appreciation. The earth does not experience insult. These are inanimate objects. They have no emotion, no awareness, no sense of being honored or disrespected. So why does Moshe need to show them gratitude.
The answer is that the gratitude was never for the Nile and never for the earth.
When parents teach a small child to say thank you after receiving a gift, it is not because the adult truly needs that appreciation. The gift was given out of love regardless. The thank you is not for the giver. It is for the child.
Human beings live in one of two inner states. We can live as people of gratitude, or we can live as people who constantly feel lacking. We all know both modes. There are days when everything is Baruch Hashem, even the challenges, even the struggles. And there are days when even abundance feels insufficient, when nothing is quite enough, when we focus only on what we did not receive.
Judaism teaches us that gratitude is not a reaction. It is a discipline. The very first words we say each morning are Modeh Ani. Before we have accomplished anything, before we have earned anything, we acknowledge that life itself is a gift.
This is why Moshe steps back.
Not because the Nile needs respect.
Not because the earth requires honor.
But because a leader who cannot live with gratitude cannot lead a free people.
Gratitude trains the soul to notice blessing even before redemption arrives.
If we pause and truly look at our lives, we will begin to see how much we take for granted. Stability. Shelter. Light at the flick of a switch. People who care about us. Friendship. Community. Safety. These things fade into the background precisely because they are constant.
Many people remember a childhood object, a blanket or a teddy bear, something they clung to during moments of fear. The object itself did nothing. It had no power. But it was there. Remembering it with gratitude reminds us that we were supported and protected.
That gratitude shapes who we become.
This is the havayah Moshe teaches us. A way of living. A way of seeing. A way of inhabiting the world. A life oriented around gratitude expands the heart. A life centered on lack shrinks it.
Before freedom. Before miracles. Before redemption. Moshe teaches us to say thank you.
Because gratitude is not about what we receive, but about who we become.
Shabbat Shalom Rav Shlomo