By Michael R. Mantell, Ph.D.
EL CAJON, California — This week’s parsha is tailored to the times in which we are living. Fear of the unknown, “uncertainty,” has spun many into anxiety, depression, and self-destruction. Many have so weakened their sense of hopefulness, that they live with exhaustion, believing nothing can, or will, improve. The devastating, shocking, overwhelming loss in Los Angeles has led many to beat themselves down. How can we see our conflicts, our fears, our disbelief, our fears today, in this week’s Torah reading, and learn how to better approach inevitable misfortunes?
For over two centuries, the Jewish people endured the weight of enslavement, subjected to persecution and physical torment. When Moses appeared, bearing the message of their impending liberation, they struggled to hear his words. The burden of their suffering had so deeply marred their spirits that hope seemed out of reach.
The toll of prolonged adversity, both physical and emotional, can wear down the very essence of our souls. Stress—whether carried by the body or the mind, or both—has the power to unravel our heart’s tranquility. It manifests in feelings of anger, anxiety, and despair, clouding the path to inner peace. In these moments of profound struggle, our spirit may feel as though it is on the verge of breaking, yet even in the deepest darkness, the potential for healing and transformation exists. Through faith, patience, and the unwavering light of Divine guidance, our souls can surely rise again, transcending their trials and embracing the promise of renewal.
When Moshe conveys to the Children of Israel that Hashem will redeem them from their bondage in Egypt, the Torah tells us that they could not hear his words because of their קֹּצֶר רוּחַ—their “shortness of breath.” This phrase, unusual in its expression, invites deeper reflection, and Rashi offers a profound explanation:
“מִקֹּצֶר רוּחַ. כל מי שהוא מצר, רוחו ונשימתו קצרה, ואינו יכול להאריך בנשימתו.”
“Anyone who is in distress experiences shortness of breath and cannot breathe deeply.”
(Rashi, Shemot 6:9)
In the face of profound suffering and spiritual oppression, the Children of Israel’s ability to breathe freely was stifled. Their souls, weighed down by the crushing burden of despair, could no longer inhale the promise of redemption. This “shortness of breath” is not merely a physical condition, but a reflection of the constriction within the heart and spirit.
When we experience distress—whether from hardship, fear, or loss—our breath becomes shallow, and the flow of life itself seems to narrow. We struggle to breathe in the fullness of hope and faith. But this also teaches us a deeper truth: just as our breath can be shallow in times of pain, so too can it be restored when we find relief, when we open ourselves once more to the divine air of freedom, redemption, and renewal. The path forward is one of spiritual expansion—of learning to breathe deeply again, even when we feel constrained, and allowing our hearts to fully receive the breath of life that Hashem continuously offers us.
Moshe hears from Hashem that the people would be freed and what do the children of Israel do when Moshe shares this with them? They don’t listen. They don’t believe, according to the Sforno. They were emotionally paralyzed. For Rashi, kotzer ruach is a physical condition. When we are stressed or working hard, when we anticipate desolation and ruin, we don’t have time to breathe deeply. The Jewish people were working hard; they literally didn’t have time to stop and listen to Moshe!
The Ramban says it’s not that the people did not believe in Hashem or Moshe, it’s that they did not genuinely attend to Moshe’s words. They were fully immersed in work. Shortness of breath here also relates to their fear that Pharaoh might kill them if he caught them stopping to catch their breath.
We are creatures of habit. But we can train our thinking to better fill our spirit. We can ask ourselves two questions, a) “Where’s the evidence for the belief that I am so strongly and rigidly holding onto? And b) Does my thinking, my belief, my attitude, help me move forward, bringing me greater pleasure in life, helping me achieve my potential? From a psychological perspective, we recognize that distorted thinking fuels anxiety about uncertainty, adversity and life’s challenges. Thoughts like “If I can’t control this, everything will fall apart” or “I need to know what will happen” can be challenged by:
- Identifying the automatic thought.
- Examining the evidence for and against it.
- Replacing it with a more balanced thought, such as “I don’t know what will happen, but I can handle it.”
Uncertainty is inevitable, and resisting it often increases our distress. Accepting uncertainty means learning to live with ambiguity without demanding guarantees. There are none.
When we allow ourselves to pause, to catch our breath, to replace uncertainty with curiosity about what’s to come rather than a declarative prediction of what we believe should or is going to come, we can then expand our spirit, our belief, orech ruach. The children of Israel believed that Hashem was not with them. How could they believe the word of Hashem, that he would save them, when for generations they did not experience Him, did not have a relationship with Him? Go through the sea based on what??? Leave their homes for a “promised land” based on what??? Perhaps based on the plagues.
The plagues? Yes. Just as we see the phrase, “we are in this together” popping up in social media in the face of the apocalyptic ruin and devastation in Los Angeles as an example, the dramatically increasingly more severe plagues we read of in this week’s parsha served to bring our ancestors together. They witnessed Hashem’s power as He says, “Because this time, I am sending all My plagues into your heart and into your servants and into your people, in order that you know that there is none like Me in the entire earth. For if now I had stretched forth My hand, and I had smitten you and your people with pestilence, you would have been annihilated from the earth. But, for this [reason] I have allowed you to stand, in order to show you My strength and in order to declare My name all over the earth.”
Sforno tells us, “God reserved the demonstration that He had complete control over all of the phenomena in space.” Perhaps this is what the Israelites needed at that moment to take a breath, to open their hearts and mind and to reframe their experience, to challenge their thinking that all hope was lost. Hashem understands what we need, when we need it, and delivers it at the right moment, in the right way. It is up to us to see it. The parsha teaches us that we are given the correct “medicine” to help us reframe our thinking. We need to witness the plagues to rebuild our orech ruach, to expand our spirit, our belief and to reduce our fear.
Shabbat is our antidote to our present day kotzer ruach. May we all have a day where we remind ourselves to pause, to take a deep breath, and to recognize, to truly believe, that Hashem is here for us.
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Michael R. Mantell, Ph.D., prepares a weekly D’var Torah for Young Israel of San Diego, where he and his family are members. They are also active members of Congregation Adat Yeshurun.