13 Jan PARSHA IN PRACTICE: SKILLS FOR BETTER LIVING VA’EIRA – SELF-CENTERED GRATITUDE

They don’t call them
“the magic words”
for nothing.
Continuing our
theme from last week, Rashi (Shemos
7:19) writes that Moshe Rabbeinu could
not be the one to set off the plagues of
blood and frogs by striking the Nile,
because he owed a debt of gratitude to the
river for protecting him as a helpless baby.
Similarly, Rashi (ibid. 8:12) comments
that Moshe could not summon the lice by
banging his staff on the Egyptian soil out
of a sense of hakaras hatov to the ground
which had hidden the Egyptian he killed
many years earlier. For these reasons,
Aharon was chosen to carry out these
makkos.
But what does it mean to show
appreciation to inanimate objects? Would
the water or the earth really have felt
insulted had Moshe forgotten to leave
them a thank-you note?
Rav Eliyahu E. Dessler zt”l (Michtav

M’Eliyahu, vol. 3, pp. 98–101) – whose
yahrtzeit, 25 Teves, was this week –
explained that it is a mistake to think
that expressing gratitude is solely for the
benefit of the recipient. If that were the
case, then yes, there would be no reason
to show appreciation to inanimate objects
which do not crave recognition. Instead,
a central component of gratitude is the
act itself: the effort to recognize that
one is not self-sufficient, and that one
benefits from help beyond oneself. Jewish
gratitude is less about making others feel
appreciated for their kindness, and more
about a process of introspection and
humility.
This idea is embedded in the very phrase
hakaras hatov, which literally means an
internal “recognition of the good,” rather
than providing external reassurance to
another. In that sense, hakaras hatov is
primarily a midah bein adam l’atzmo
(a personal character trait) rather than
a chessed bein adam la’chaveiro (an
interpersonal act of kindness).

With this in mind, we can
understand why Moshe
could not be allowed
to strike the water or
the land to which he
owed his life. It wasn’t
the inanimate objects
that would have been
offended; it was Moshe’s
own moral sensitivity that
would have been dulled.
Moshe understood that
constantly recalling
the goodness he had
received would help him remain humble
and appreciative in general. It didn’t
matter whether the recipient needed the
gratitude – Moshe needed to express it.
While expressing hakaras hatov to our
microwaves or cell phones (“Thanks,
Siri!”) may feel strange, the Torah gives us
a far more familiar framework to cultivate
this midah. Each morning begins with
Modeh Ani, thanking Hashem for
returning our soul and granting us

another day of life. This is followed by
over one hundred blessings throughout
the day, acknowledging everything from
our eyesight to our shoes. Like the river
and the earth, Hashem does not need
our gratitude, nor does He gain anything
from it. Rather, these words train us to
recognize our dependence and to live
with an awareness of how much we
receive.
It’s not that Hashem needs to hear it – it’s
that we need to say it.