Listing our stops: The insignificance of Marah

As the Torah depicts the early travels of the Israelites, small details from famous stops are recalled.

“They crossed the Red Sea toward the desert. They then traveled for three days through the Eitam Desert, and they camped in Marah. From Marah to Elim — in Elim there were 12 water springs and 70 palms. … They left Alush and camped in Rephidim, where there was no water for the people to drink.” (33:8-14)

Does the Torah intend to list stops on the journey, or to recall significant events? If the former, we should just be reading destinations. But if the latter, the events of Marah should be mentioned.

Following the Sea splitting, the people traveled for three days without finding water. They came to Marah but could not drink of the water, “ki marim hem,” because they (either the waters or the people) were bitter. Moshe placed a stick in the waters to sweeten them. “There G-d taught them a decree and a law, and there He tested them.” (Shmot 15:22-25)

Why is nary a word recorded in our parsha about the three days before reaching Marah or about the miracle of the sweetened water?

The Alshich notes how the lack of water in Rephidim is described: “There was no water for the people to drink.” There was water — it just was not available for the people. They had Miriam’s well, but it had been sealed as a consequence of the people turning from the Torah teachings they had accepted in Marah when they complained about their food situation in Shmot 16. 

Recall that their arrival in Marah followed three days of wandering during which water was not to be found. Even in Marah, where there was water, it was undrinkable because of bitterness. It is hard to understand how there was no water to be found when we consider the geography. The people had come straight from the Red Sea — were there no rivers, streams or springs extending from the Sea? They were so close to the ironically numbered Oasis of Elim (“12” springs and “70” palms), and yet they couldn’t find water?

Rashi tells us (Shmot 15:22) that Moshe literally had to drag the people away from the Sea after they were saved from the pursuing Egyptians because “the plundering of Egypt’s wealth was even greater at the Sea than it had been as they were leaving Egypt” with riches.

Perhaps seeing such riches, desiring such riches, and being told they were unavailable, embittered the people greatly. They were so depressed over the loss of the windfall profits that, through three days of blurry or misty-eyed travel, they could not see water, even though it may have been in abundance. And so, when they came to Marah, where there was water, they could not drink it because “Marim hem” (they were bitter).

Was it the water that was bitter, or were the people bitter (Pesikta)?

Perhaps they felt G-d had abandoned them when they were forbidden from partaking of the Egyptian spoils? Perhaps they simply could not see a bright side to the story. They may have been thinking, “Moshe! We had it all! We would have been taken care of for the rest of our lives! You made us leave so much behind at the Sea! How could you? What were you thinking?”

The Ktav V’Hakabalah (Rabbi Yaakov Tzvi Mecklenburg) says the Torah claims the place was called Marah on account of the bitter water (which Malbim contends had been sweet until they arrived), so we would not think it was based on the people being bitter or Moshe becoming bitter on account of their depression. “This is not the place to recall bitterness and complaining, because they repented immediately and prayed to G-d.”

Perhaps a nod to the Marah experience is left out of the travel-roll because the lesson of Marah is no longer relevant. In Elim, the people’s eyes were opened to seeing G-d’s plenty. In Rephidim, the people learned not to complain. But the events leading to Marah were the opposite of appreciating G-d’s gifts. 

They had properly thanked and praised G-d for His heroics at the Sea. But then they were forced to withdraw from what seemed to be, at the time, the greatest gift of all — Egypt’s wealth, even more than what they had taken from Egypt during the Exodus.

Marah was its own entity, an event that stood by itself, frozen in time. It had been a place for teshuvah, a place of mental healing, and a place to learn a few mitzvot. But the mitzvot were relearned at Sinai, and the teshuvah and mental healing was more of the “we need to move past this” variety than the “we sinned” variety.

Imagine spending your life harping over the stock you could have bought, the building you could have purchased, the spouse you could have married, the children you could have had, the community you could have moved to, the choices you could have made, the job or opportunity you let slip through your fingertips, never being able to let go of those “if only” thoughts.

Many life experiences can teach us very important lessons. Sometimes the lessons bear repeating (i.e., Elim and Rephidim). Sometimes one event is life-changing and we never forget the lesson. And some events were important at the time, but became overshadowed by later events, making once-important episodes almost insignificant in the blueprint of history.

Marah was of the latter type: important in its time, but not worth a mention 40 years later. The money was by now inconsequential and they had experienced Sinai.

May we merit to heed these lessons — to appreciate G-d’s gifts, to have reputations of “not complaining,” and to let one-time events have their impact such that their significance become embedded in who we are, so they need not become what-if moments that we revisit time and time again.

A version of this column appeared in 2013.