An exciting feature of Parshat Va'Era is the iconic Ten Plagues saga.  Although Hashem gave the instructions for each plague to Moshe, it was Aharon who initiated the first three.  Aharon struck the Nile with his staff for blood and frogs, and later, he used the staff to strike the dust for lice.  Rashi famously explains that Moshe took a step back during these opening Makkot because each one involved a special favor from his past.  Once upon a time, the water kept baby Moshe’s little basket afloat and gently washed him downstream toward the loving embrace of Batya, so how could Moshe be the one to strike the river now? (Rashi, Shemot 7:19)  Similarly, it would have been inappropriate for Moshe to smite the dust.  After all, the sand literally “covered for him” when it buried the body of an Egyptian he killed.  How could Moshe strike the sand after it aided him at such a desperate moment?  Better for Aharon to do it instead (Rashi, Shemot 8:12).

A classic Mussar lesson from these Rashis pertains to Hakarat HaTov.  We point to Moshe and extol his gratitude toward the water and sand, which precluded him from acting against them.  Yet, Moshe did more than deliver a heartfelt “thank you” to the water and the dust.  True Hakarat HaTov goes beyond simply acknowledging our benefit; it extends to recognizing the continued impact of that “good” and compels us to respond in kind.  Moshe clearly held onto the memory of these favors from the water and the sand, and he allowed the m to influence his decisions and change his character for the better.  Many of us are capable of expressing gratitude, but here Moshe models the way to embody it.

One of my children had lice last summer, and her experience led me to consider another layer of meaning in Moshe’s thought process.  We typically focus on the relational aspect of Moshe’s passivity during the first three Makkot, whereby his character became so refined that he did not want to hurt the water or the dust after they saved him so many years ago; striking them would violate a relationship they now shared.  “You saved me, so now I’ll be nice to you.”  On a basic level, Rashi explains which prior events in Moshe’s life led up to this decision in the present.  However, these two memories could also shed light on what was at stake for Moshe.  What would it cost him to strike the water and sand?  What did Moshe stand to lose?

Hashem made it very clear that His plagues would be devastating, so Moshe knew there would be intense suffering with each one.  When Hashem told Moshe, “Say to Aharon, ‘Stretch out your staff and strike the dust of the land, it will become lice throughout the land of Egypt,’ (Shemot, 8:12),” he must have understood that the lice would cause others to feel pain.  Though, as Moshe heard this message, he may have felt conflicted.

On the one hand, Moshe can clearly recall the sand that aided him after killing the Egyptian.  He had been engaged in a life-altering personal struggle over his identity and decided to save a Jewish slave.  How vulnerable Moshe must have felt as a young man in that position, a member of the royal elite betraying the king who raised him.  In a panic, Moshe knows he must quickly hide the corpse.  But where could he turn?  His Jewish brethren were in no position to help, and how could he possibly explain the situation to any of his Egyptian countrymen?  It was precisely then, in that frame of mind, when the dust came to Moshe’s rescue.  He never forgot the feeling of relief and security as the dead Egyptian naturally disappeared beneath the shifting sands.

On the other hand, perhaps Moshe could picture a little girl with a bad case of lice.  She can't go out to play because all she can think about is scratching her head, and the itch will not go away.  All of her toys must spend two weeks in a garbage bag, and no one can get close to her for hugs.  Beyond these physical discomforts is a foreboding helplessness as the lice keep jumping and their eggs keep hatching.  There is no relief, despite repeated cycles of washing, combing, and lather treatments that are time-consuming and draining.  Sitting apart from other children as her scalp crawls, without any of her treasured comfort items and no clearly defined end to disrupting her daily routine, this child feels profoundly distraught.  The lice bring discomfort and disgust while also causing loneliness and despair.

Moshe holds each of these images in his mind as he hears that the lice will commence by striking the dust.  He knows what will happen and how it will come about, and it just doesn't fit.  How could the sand become a catalyst for lice?  To Moshe, the sand is a source of comfort and relief, and he simply cannot envision it as a herald of agony.  Of course, he believed that God would bring the plagues, and there is no doubt that he understood they served His divine will.  This wasn't Moshe having a moral-ethical dilemma about right and wrong, but more like a personal issue.  Perhaps Rashi brought the scenes from Moshe’s past to provide some context for why these plagues and their catalysts were difficult for him to reconcile.  Moshe intuitively knew that striking the water and the dust to begin three terrible plagues would alter his perception of them as purely positive forces.  Doing so would taint the gratitude he had felt for so long.

And isn't it interesting how God approves?  Hashem instructed Moshe to delegate these tasks, thus enabling him to preserve that gratitude.  Even as the sand and water are used for destructive purposes, the message to Moshe seems to be, “Keep what’s good; hold onto your positive memories.”  Indeed, the Egyptians deserved punishment, but Moshe’s experiences are also valid.  The Makkot were needed, yet we see that Moshe did not have to be the trigger if it meant he would sully two of his strongest core memories.  Maybe this was Hashem’s signal to Moshe that an enduring sense of gratitude is worth protecting.

When we consider the role of Hakarat HaTov in these Pesukim, the simple understanding is undoubtedly correct.  Moshe did not want to denigrate the water or the sand because, at one time in his life, they each saved him.  Upon further reflection, we can see how these memories shaped Moshe’s thoughts and actions, which led to an allowance from HaKadosh Baruch Hu during the first three Makkot.  If we can apply this true sense of Hakarat HaTov and allow it to influence our own thoughts and choices to the extent that we wish to preserve it, then perhaps we, too, will be worthy of Hashem’s allowance and protection during difficult times.