This is the 16th weekly Torah portion. B’Shalach is taken from Exodus 13:17-17:16. It marks the true beginning of Israel’s journey as a free nation, into the wilderness, leaving Egypt under divine protection. Pharaoh changes his mind yet again and pursues them to the Sea of Reeds where G-d parts the sea for the Israelites then closes it upon Pharaoh’s army thus sealing the people’s physical ties to all things Mitzraim (Egypt). This is a moment of jubilation, and the Israelites break out in song of awe and joy at their deliverance.
And yet….
Faith Under Trauma
Throughout the story of Exodus, G-d shows his might on many an occasion. Whether it’s the plagues, the splitting of the Sea of Reeds, the manna, bringing water from a stone…Divine power and commitment are repeatedly and unmistakably demonstrated. One theme holds true: G-d favors the Israelites.
And still the people exhibit a lack of faith time and again. How can this be?
Faith fluctuates daily, not because Israel is rebellious, but because trauma collapses time and survival thinking cannot imagine tomorrow (only today). Of course, the miracles are real and certainly awe inspiring, but the people do not integrate experience. Memory does not accumulate into trust when the nervous system is still on high alert.
This is the nature of trauma; the focus on survival outweighs all other things. Sensory input is amplified and perception narrows, but only toward immediate threat. We cannot see tomorrow; yesterday is over and forgotten. All that remains is the moment of now and getting through it.
In this case, faith is not absent; it has become reactive. And faith that depends on circumstances is not false faith; it is unintegrated faith.
Sufficiency, Not Excess
Israel must transform into a people not only of faith but of self-reliance. This generation has relied upon someone else for their food and drink, shelter, and purpose. And while these may have been meager, they’ve robbed them of their ability to act on their own behalf.
G-d must provide both the path of redemption and the sustenance required to walk the path. As such, he gives them manna and quail to feed them, and water when necessary. However, he does NOT give them excess; his provision is deliberately restrained.
- Manna rots if hoarded
- Quail are provided only for meals
- Water appears only when necessary
There are no surplus, stockpiles, or safety buffers here.
Why?
Because excess would delay agency, while scarcity would retraumatize.
Formation comes only through sufficiency. Given what one needs, growth is secure; given more than what one needs, stagnation is guaranteed.
The Middle Path (Derekh Ha-Emtza)
Aristotle’s Doctrine of the Mean argues:
- Virtue exists between extremes
- Courage lies between cowardice and recklessness
- Generosity lies between stinginess and wastefulness
This particular mean is not mathematical; it is what enables right action. His position was that excess disables judgment while deficiency paralyzes action. Aristotle understood that extremes destroy the conditions for moral agency; only the mean leaves room for deliberation and choice.
The Rambam (Maimonides) explicitly adopts Aristotle’s ethics but rejects moral self-sufficiency; he reframes the mean as commanded formation, not philosophical aspiration. Where Aristotle sees virtue as perfecting the rational individual, the Rambam believed virtue prepares us for responsibility before G-d. In other words, he takes Aristotle’s doctrine and revises it into a formation strategy. He agrees that extremes deform character, but places it within a covenantal framework where restraint is not aesthetic balance but moral necessity.
Later, Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik (1903-1993) will apply these same ideas to his statements of human dignity through responsibility.
In works like The Lonely Man of Faith, he distinguishes between two classes of man: Adam I: a man of mastery, control, and achievement; Adam II: a man of restraint, humility, covenant, and obligation. According to Soloveitchik, the mistake of modernity is that it feeds the first endlessly while starving the second.
Excess becomes corrosive to dignity; a human being sustained without responsibility is diminished, not elevated.
This becomes particularly important when Amalek attacks. G-d does not abandon Israel; He invites them into covenantal adulthood.
The Modern Mirror
This dynamic does not belong to the wilderness alone. Wherever human beings are formed rather than indulged, the same pattern appears: sufficiency cultivates agency, excess erodes it.
A modern example I’ve always been fond of is the story of Menachem Mendel Schneerson—the Lubavitcher Rebbe. For years, he would dispatch words of wisdom then give his visitors a single dollar bill.
This was not a donation, not charity…certainly not enough to solve any problems. He was giving them enough to require participation.
Had he given them more, the generosity would have been outsourced. The recipient may have been grateful, but they would not have engaged, become involved. By giving only a dollar, the Rebbe preserved agency. The act of kindness was not complete until the recipient finished it.
Sufficiency invites engagement, imparts a lesson; excess is fleeting.
Measure, not Indulgence
In traditional Japanese culture, rice is not merely food. It is measure, memory, and moral discipline. In fact, rice was the fundamental economic measure in feudal Japan, with the koku being the standard unit, representing the amount of rice required to feed one person for a year. The kokudaka assessed land value, determined status, power, and taxes.
A single grain of rice is treated with near-reverence—not because it is scarce in isolation, but because it represents labor, time, continuity, and survival properly managed. This is the greatest gift of the Japanese philosophical approach to life; an attendant focus not only on the final product but everything that goes into its making. This philosophy extends to all aspects of Japanese life, from harvest to preparation to table.
Proverbs emphasize that finishing one’s rice, avoiding waste, and stopping short of excess are not simply pieces of dietary advice; they are foundational wisdom. The cultural ethic is not abundance but sufficiency. One eats until satisfied, not until full. Excess is understood not as blessing, but as loss of clarity.
These modalities were born of necessity among a people locked in a land with scarce resources. The philosophy dates to the ideals of Bushido and the Edo Period. It was a time demanding careful management and community survival.
Agency: The Missing Muscle
Agency is the capacity to act meaningfully in the face of uncertainty. It is the first thing stripped away by trauma and over-functioning authority delays its return.
Up to this point, G-d has rescued, provided, and shielded the people of Israel. And they do survive, albeit with complaints, but they fail to act. They must learn to be proactive again, exert control to shape their own outcomes.
Israel must become the author of their collective nation’s future.
However, agency cannot be taught through miracles alone. It is learned through trial as only the successful navigation of trial builds resilience.
Enter Amalek.
The Amalekites launch a surprise attack on the weary Israelites at Rephidim, targeting the stragglers and the weak. G-d does not intervene with miracle or divine spectacle. Instead, he instructs Israel to choose, organize, and fight. He remains present but does not take direct action. For the first time, Israel is required to act as though tomorrow exists. The responsibility for their rescue lies with the people themselves; they must actually participate in the redemptive process to continue moving forward.
G-d is telling Israel it is time to come off the sidelines and enter the game. This is a turning point in Israel’s transformative process. There is still much to do, much to recover from, but as a people—a nation—this battle marks the rounding of a corner.
Faith, Weather Permitting
Faith without agency cannot endure adversity. Rabbis and philosophers have examined the human condition for millennia and inevitably reach the same conclusion: until we get off the sidelines, until we have skin in the game, the default human state is one of passivity.
Faith is not memory, nor is it sentiment, and it is not sustained by inspiration alone. It is something lived and practiced, not simply possessed. We do not fail in faith because we are bad or even weak. If faith collapses under pressure, it isn’t that it is false—it may be unexercised.
Modern life maximizes provision and minimizes agency. As such, we should not be surprised by the fragility of faith in this modern era. We’ve just recreated bondage and trauma with better branding.
Many will ask—where is G-d in all this? Why does He allow this present-day state to even exist and why should I even have faith?
The Divine is ever present but, as with the Israelites, exercises restraint. Growth—both personal and spiritual—is an outcome of adversity and agency. It comes only when we take responsibility for ourselves and the world in which we live. We do not live in an age of weak faith; we live in an age that rarely requires it.
Faith does not disappear when G-d steps back; it disappears when we are never asked to step forward.
Discover more from Many Lamps, One Flame
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.