This week we read the incident of Moshe hitting the rock to get water for the people instead of speaking to it. It is because of this that Moshe gets disqualified from leading the people into the land of Israel (Numbers 20:3-13). I want to juxtapose that story of water acquisition with another one later in our parsha, a strange snippet of text that usually goes unnoticed – Az yashir Yisrael et hashirah hazot, then Israel sang this song, Ali be’er, rise up, oh well. Enu lah – sing to her, to the well (Numbers 21:17).
Without Moshe
Az yashir Yisrael – to start with, noticing the contrast between this song’s introduction and the introduction to the much more famous song at the sea: Az yashir Moshe u’venei Yisrael. Then Moshe and the children of Israel sang (Exodus 15:1) – Moshe as well as Israel. While at the sea, Moshe led the song, here the people are singing this song on their own. Az yashir Yisrael. Just Israel.
Becoming Independent
That’s the key to the transition that is happening during this period, the last year or so of their desert sojourn – the people are learning to sing on their own, to stand on their own two feet, to become independent and self-reliant.
Think about those two stories of water acquisition. In the first, the people come whining and complaining to Moshe, and Moshe is irritated at having to deal with them yet again, like a parent exhausted by their children’s constant demands. Moshe provides water for them but resentfully, in a fit of anger, calling them names and aggressively hitting the rock. By contrast, what happens in this little Az Yashir song? The people take care of it themselves. They call out – rise up, oh well, finding their own well, their own source of nourishment. Moshe is not involved. Nor is Miriam. Miriam has just died, and along with her, their usual water source has disappeared. It’s time for the people to find their own well.
There is here an arc of empowerment and individuation, of growing up into independence. There are other signs of this growth in the parsha as well, as the people fight a battle and send a message on their own without Moshe (see Numbers 21:1-3 and 21:21-22). Maybe that’s why this Az yashir song says Az yashir Yisrael and not beney Yisrael, as if they are no longer banim, no longer children. They are growing up.
Our Young Dependent Parts
Maybe pausing here to consider where you are in that process of growing into your own authority and independence. I believe we continue to evolve in this way throughout life. We all have parts that are very young and look to others to provide sustenance – both physical and emotional – and to tell us what to do. Not judging yourself for having such parts. They are young and sweet, and very much in need of our love.
The people of Israel had such young dependent parts, too. That’s why they keep asking for food and drink, and that’s why they keep saying to Moshe – lamah he’elitunu – why did you take us up out of Egypt, why did you bring us here, why did you do this to us and that to us. There is such a sense of disempowerment in these complaints, a sense of – I am a helpless victim, things are done to me, not by me. I don’t have agency. I am not responsible for my own life, my own fate – you, Moshe are. There is so much impossible dependence in this stance. I’m thirsty, I’m hungry. I am like a baby who needs to be fed and can’t provide for myself. Sometimes that’s what we feel: Will someone strong please just come and take care of me?
Disempowered By How We Are Viewed
I believe we are invited throughout life to respond to these parts’ great need by finding such strength inside ourselves, and that this is the process the Israelites are engaged in here. But the thing is, we don’t always get support from those in charge for that growth. Sometimes they don’t help us claim our independence, but instead continue to disempower us by seeing us as incapable and dependent, in perpetual need of their assistance.
I wonder if this was Moshe’s mistake. God wanted Moshe not to hit but to speak to the rock – perhaps to teach the people how to do it for themselves. Not just to do it for them, but to offer instruction. Teach a man to fish. Teach a woman to find her own well. Help them grow into self sufficiency. Moshe, though, couldn’t do that; he was stuck in an antiquated picture of who the Israelites were, seeing them as if they were still babies just out of Egypt. Indeed, when Moshe provides the water, the Torah says it is for them and be’iram, their livestock (Numbers 21:11), as if Moshe views the two as equivalent – the people and their animals – both equally incapable, both equally dependent and helpless. One of the most damaging things you can do to someone is to view them as less than fully capable, not to see and respect their wholeness and autonomy and agency. Moshe can’t lead them into the next phase with this view. They need someone who will believe in them, have confidence in their capacity to do very hard things.
Our Independence Seen As A Threat
So sometimes we don’t get the support we need to cultivate our independence. Our natural tendency to rise up into personhood, instead of being encouraged, is seen as a threat. Moshe sees their rising up as an “uprising,” calling them rebels – morim (20:10)– a word that can also mean teachers, as if he is saying: who do you think you are, being your own teachers, your own authority, when I am the teacher, the authority here.
Along those lines, there is a commentator that says that the people were already engaged in a search for water on their own here and that Moshe shut down their search, disagreeing with them about which rock to tap and asserting his authority to do the choosing (Ba’al Ma’aseh Hashem, as cited by Ohr HaChaim here).
Our rising independence is often met this way – by external and internal resistance, by shut down and pushback. Sometimes our “rising up” can feel dangerous or wrong to us because of subtle or unsubtle conditioning. We might even punish ourselves internally for assertive courageous acts, for times that we come forward with our full power and agency and independence. (See Pete Walker, Complex PTSD, p. 78).
Rise Up, Oh Well
And yet we are called to this work, to this growth, to this empowerment. God does not want our inner or outer Moshe shutting us down anymore. Maybe it was fine when we were little and needed that kind of care, but now we are growing up and God wants us to claim our authority, our capacity, our wholeness and self sufficiency and independence.
We Each Have A Well
Ali be’er – Rise up, oh well, we call out to ourselves. What is this well? It is the well of infinite divine resource that has been planted inside each one of us. Not only inside those people out there, the ones with authority. But inside you, inside each of us, a full wellspring of nourishment. We don’t have to go begging at someone else’s well for water. Sometimes of course we do lean on each other for a while, borrowing water from a neighbor and that’s important, but always still remembering that it is not because we don’t have our own well. No, each one of us, as a creature of God, has our own well. We come batteries included.
The Sense of Rising
Rise up, oh well. We can call up that well inside us. In fact, no one else can do that for us. Moshe is not going to sing this song for us. We each have to do it ourselves, find the courage to believe in ourselves enough to sing that song, even to believe we have such a well. It’s buried in the depths of our being, like water under the earth. Sensing it in the ground of your body, in the bottom of your core, and inviting it to more upward through your torso, to bubble up like a spring, to come forward, to be seen and felt more clearly, to rise upwards like a flower growing from its seed underground, stretching tall into full glorious bloom. The well of your being is rising up, manifesting.
Being Nourished
What is that well like for you? Ta’amu ure’u ki tov Hashem. Taste and see how good God is (Psalm 34:9), how good this divine well is inside you. Dip into it, taste it, experience it, the waters of your own being, the waters of God inside you. It is a be’er mayim hayim. A well of living water. Soft and cool and refreshing, deeply healing and nourishing, with a mysterious power to both relax and energize at the same time. Take in some of those living waters – you don’t have to do anything to make it happen other than call it up, invite it to rise up inside you. It’s right here, take what you need from it,
And maybe offering some water to the little ones inside, too, the little ones who were grasping at Moshe and Miriam before, who are always so frantic and insecure. Let them see that you have what they need inside. The truth is that no one else’s waters can soothe them as yours can. Yours are uniquely tailored to your needs. They are like the desert manna, with the ability to shift flavors depending on the desires and needs of your body and soul in this moment. What do you need right now – maybe strength or calm or resilience or confidence or trust or love or courage or grace. Take that in. These are the waters that can finally slake the thirst that has plagued you your entire life. Tzama nafshi le’elokim. My soul thirsts for God,, for the God in me, in my well. Drink your fill now and be content.
Your Own Provisions
Notice how it feels to have your own provisions here inside you, not to have to beg and nag Moshe or to fear the loss of Miriam and her well, not to feel the desperation that comes from external dependence. It’s ok. Others may come and others may go, but you are whole in and of yourself. Wherever you go, you carry this well inside, and you can always pause and sing out – ali, be’er! Arise, oh well, arise! What does it feel like to be self sufficient, to be whole, to be self contained? The Israelites said to their neighbors in our parsha – we just want to pass through your land, we don’t need your wells (21:22), we have our own. That’s what it’s like. You can travel anywhere when you know you have your own well tucked inside.
Others, Too, Have Their Own Well
And as you look out at others, children and family and friends, knowing that they, too, carry such a well inside them and letting that knowledge relax you and help you trust their capacity and their wholeness and support their autonomy. It’s ok. They have their own well.
Access Through Song, Not Hitting
Notice how we access this well and how we don’t access it. Moshe hit the rock, but that’s not how we access our own internal resources. Instead of hitting, we sing to our well a shirah, a song. We don’t force; we invite with gentle joy. What would it be like to sing yourself into growth instead of beating yourself into it? To let it come from sweet sounds that are pleasing to the ear instead of harsh self criticism. To simply invite the waters to flow, to rise up as they will. This is how we grow, like a blossoming flower, invited into manifesting our truth not by a hammer blow, but by the soft song of the whispering wind.
Honor Her
Enu lah – sing to her. Sing to this well, sing to the divine feminine that dwells inside you, sing to her, enu – like anah, to respond – respond to her, be in dialogue with her, be attentive to her, be in relationship with her, trust her, get to know her, above all, honor her (see Shteinsaltz here). Honor your own well, your own source of wisdom. Let your knowing rise up from deep inside your own body. Listen to her, let her speak. She knows. You know. Yes, other people may tell you to go another way. They have their own wells. Listen to yours. Enu lah. Let her rise up and lead you. Bow to her, for she is your guide through the wilderness, she is your sustenance through the desert. She is your one true song. Do not minimize or dismiss her. She is just a snippet of text, but she holds a mighty empowerment.
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