When Bnei Yisrael felt hungry for the first time since leaving Egypt, they realized that their redemption was not yet complete. They feared for their future, for their lack of financial security. Suddenly they saw that the threat of starvation had the power to crush their spirit completely and disperse all memory of the great events they had just recently experienced. Really, they were only on vacation from the yoke of a cruel oppressor; they had not come to redemption and true liberation.

And this is why Hashem didn’t treat them to a “free lunch” immediately. First they needed to feel a sensation of hunger that would trigger complaints, bringing home to them the fact that their minds were still in galus. Worrying about tomorrow could still paralyze their spiritual powers and their aspirations toward higher values. Only after they realized where they were holding spiritually did Hashem shower them with the bread of geulah, the mahn that would help them build a truly liberated personality. Let us examine how this process took place:

“And Hashem said to Moshe, ‘Behold, I am about to bring you a shower of bread from the heavens, and the people shall go out and gather a day’s worth each day, so that I shall test whether it goes by my Torah or not. And on the sixth day, they shall prepare what they shall bring, and it shall be double the amount they shall gather each day’” (Shemos 16:4–5).

These pesukim lay a firm foundation for the economy of Bnei Yisrael in the Wilderness — it was the antithesis of all the world’s economic systems, communistic or capitalistic. The “mahn economy” operated in such a way as to implant its principles and values into the character of the nation during the 40 years of wandering in the Wilderness. Hopefully, these principles would continue to prevail afterward, when Bnei Yisrael entered the Promised Land and stand on their own.

But how did the threat of starvation, real or imagined, undermine every principle and nullify every positive decision? Because as long as a person is not redeemed — not from concern over his livelihood per se, but from power of that concern — there is no room for absolute fulfillment of Hashem’s Torah…. As long as a person is harnessed to the yoke of making a living on his own limited powers, that worry is endless. It is liable to turn his world into a wilderness — not only when he actually goes into the wild, but even in the midst of civilization, where although he has many assets, there are also many competitors. A person is liable to think that he has to be concerned not only for tomorrow, but for his entire future, as well as the future of his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.

“It’s this mode of thought that spurs him on to make conquest after conquest, with no peace of mind and no time for settled thought, to the point where there is no room left in his heart for any other goal or purpose” (Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch on the parshah).

This brief passage from Rav Hirsch encapsulates man’s entire struggle, ever since it was decreed on him that “by the sweat of your brow shall you eat bread.” The overwhelming concern for sustenance has cast the mold of man’s world since the dawn of history. It has corrupted his character and determined his priorities, making livelihood and profit the highest goal. (As a young Israeli yored once put it, “You can’t live on Zionism,” and then he went to live in California.)

Concern about lack of money completely enslaves man’s spirit. It permits him to trample and destroy anything that stands in his way to the top, be it a neighbor, a competing business, the other political party, or the other nation that is infringing on his lebensraum. A society that makes material acquisition its supreme mandate puts all its resources into a ceaseless struggle to earn a living in one way or another, leaving none over for spiritual gains (or no time, even if the desire is there).

The alternative economy of the mahn in the Wilderness came to redeem Bnei Yisrael from these natural human tendencies. Their complaint about their perceived imminent starvation showed them that they, too, were affected by the common malady of fear of the unknown tomorrow. And so the mahn was given to them as a daily training regimen to strengthen their spiritual muscles against such a downslide.

How Did it Work?

The first principle was a deep recognition that even with the concern for livelihood, the first of all human concerns, man is required to do the duty Hashem lays upon him, while his success is in Hashem’s hands. Man’s job is to make do, for himself and his family, with a day’s worth each day — “to do their duty today and eat today with joy and well-being — and toss their concern for tomorrow to Hashem. He Who created today and its livelihood will also create tomorrow and its livelihood. Only a person who trusts Hashem unconditionally is assured that he will not transgress the Torah because of worries, real or imagined, over parnassah” (Rav Hirsch).

Throughout 40 years of wandering in the Wilderness, Bnei Yisrael practiced not worrying about tomorrow. They received a day’s worth of food each day — but they were required to gather it each morning. Anyone who didn’t gather his portion had nothing to eat that day, to teach them that they must strive for a living and not allow trust in Hashem to turn into parasitism, chalilah, or to greed. Anyone who collected more than his portion would find when he got home that his efforts were in vain:

“And they collected, one more and one less, and they measured in an omer basket, and he who collected more had no more, and he who collected less had no less, each man according to his sustenance… and Moshe said, ‘No man shall leave any of it over until morning,’ and some men did not listen to Moshe and left some of it over until morning, and it became wormy and spoiled…”

The experience of collecting mahn six days a week stood them on the foundations of Jewish parnassah. In this “mahn economy,” laziness, greed, stinginess, and diminution of faith are condemned, while traits of diligence, making do with little, being happy with one’s portion and enjoying it, trusting Hashem, and casting one’s burden upon Him are the pathways to real fiscal stability.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 695)