Rav Dovid Zucker of Chicago in his sefer Ateres Dudaim cites a Medrash which I don’t recall ever seeing before. He quotes the Medrash from a sefer called Sefer Le’Hagid.
The pasuk says that the mon came down, each person gathered every morning what they needed for their daily consumption, and then the heat of the sun melted the (remaining) mon. (Shemos 16:21)
The Mechilta explains that the remaining mon turned into liquid, which flowed into the rivers. The deer would drink the water from those rivers. The gentile nations would hunt these deer, eat them, and thereby taste the mon. It was the best venison they ever tasted, and they thereby appreciated the elevated status of the Jews. That is what the Mechilta says.
The Sefer Le’Hagid brings down the following incredible Medrash: There was a young fellow who was bored being cooped up in the Jewish encampment in the Wilderness and left the encampment. He hiked over to the area where children of Amon lived. He was very hungry and they fed him deer that had drunk the water from the rivers containing melted mon. He tasted the deer and was overwhelmed by its outstanding taste. He returned to the Jewish camp and told his friends, “There is no need to stay here the whole time. I left, I visited Amon, and I tasted deer like I never tasted in my entire life.”
Moshe Rabbeinu noticed that this young fellow had a crowd around him and investigated what was going on. Moshe asked him to explain what was so special about the taste of the deer’s meat. The young fellow answered that he could not explain it, but it was the best taste he ever experienced in his life. Moshe told him, “I will tell you what was so special about that deer’s meat.” Moshe explained that the deer tasted so special because it drank water that contained the melted mon. Moshe told the young man that he was a fool. “Why do you seek merely a facsimile of mon when you can have the real thing?” That is the end of this Medrash.
There are two questions that can be asked about this Medrashic story: First, why was this fellow so impressed with the taste of the deer? Why did he not have that same out-of-this world sensation when he tasted the mon itself? Second, what is the point of this Medrash? What is it trying to teach us?
Rav Zucker answers these questions by quoting a famous vort that Rav Shimon Schwab said over from the Chofetz Chaim. Rav Schwab spent a single Shabbos in Radin with the Chofetz Chaim, from which he came away with a career’s worth of drashos (homiletic insights).
It was Parshas Beshalach. Rav Schwab asked the Chofetz Chaim about the Medrash which says that the mon tasted like whatever the person who consumed it wanted it to taste like. Rav Schwab asked the Chofetz Chaim, “What if a person is not thinking anything?” The Chofetz Chaim responded: “Az mi tracht nisht; hut kin taam nisht.” (When you don’t think, it has no flavor.)
The mon was a spiritual type of food. By spirituality, the more you put in, the more you get out. If a person puts nothing in, he gets nothing out. Az mi tracht nisht – if someone does not want to grow from the experience of eating the mon, hut kin taam nisht – you get nothing out of it.
This is the way it is with all spiritual matters. A person can learn a blatt Gemara by mumbling or racing through it, and not get such a geshmak [pleasurable experience] from it. But when someone sweats over a piece of Gemara and puts all of his effort into understanding it, his experience will be totally different. Since it is a spiritual matter, the more a person puts in, the more he takes out.
This fellow was not thinking about anything when he ate the mon. Therefore, he got nothing out of it. A person who is involved in a davar ruchni [spiritual endeavor] needs to invest. Shabbos is great. Oneg Shabbos is a taste of the World to Come. But what a person gets out of Shabbos depends on what a person puts into a Shabbos. If a person puts nothing into a Shabbos, he gets nothing out of a Shabbos. The more a person puts into Shabbos, the more he takes out. That is the way it is with every davar ruchni.
When this fellow went to Amon and ate the deer, it was a davar gashmi [physical experience]. It had a special flavor, but it was a gashmi flavor. By gashmiyus matters, it is easy come, easy go. It is instant gratification. Is it ‘fun’ to watch a football game? Is it ‘fun’ to play video games? Yes, it’s ‘fun’. You enjoy it, but how long does it last? It is ephemeral. A person can sit there for hours and watch the game, but what does he gain from the experience? However, in spiritual matters, there is no instant gratification. If we want to accomplish a davar ruchni, we must invest – thought and effort. Az mi tracht nisht; hut min gornisht! (R’ Frand)
