After the Jewish people were freed from slavery in Egypt, they entered a barren desert, where daily sustenance quickly became a pressing issue. Therefore, Hashem provided them each morning with bread from heaven, a practice that continued throughout their 40-year sojourn in the wilderness. When they first encountered their new source of nourishment, they were perplexed by it and called it מן, which the Rashbam explains is the Egyptian equivalent of the Hebrew word מה (what). This was their way of expressing their puzzled bewilderment, asking, “What is this?” However, Rav Yisroel Reisman points out that it is strange to give a name that contains no intrinsic meaning of its own. Just because they were initially confused by this unfamiliar food source, why would they permanently call it, “What is this?”
Rav Reisman elucidates the peculiar name based on an insight of Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz. The Beis HaMikdosh had multiple entrances, and the novi Yechezkel teaches (46:9) that a person must exit through a different gate than the one through which he entered. What is the reason for this rule? Rav Shmuelevitz explains that every person who set foot in the Beis HaMikdosh was immediately overcome by powerful feelings of awe for its unparalleled sanctity and majesty. However, over time, human nature causes us to adjust and get accustomed to almost any situation. To ensure that we retain our initial sense of reverence, we must symbolically go out via a different gate than the one through which we arrived so that we do not reverse the feelings we had when we first entered.
Although we are unfortunately not able to experience the spiritual highs of the Beis HaMikdosh, we often merit other sparks of spiritual inspiration that we must work to maintain. For example, every 7.5 years, there is a number of siyumim on Shas, made by those who take part in Daf HaYomi programs. Many people who attend such events and witness the excitement are moved to commit themselves to join the next cycle of Daf Yomi. For the first nine weeks their new undertaking will go relatively smoothly, as the first Masechta is Berachos, which contains many practical laws and interesting stories and is relatively easy to understand. However, Berachos is immediately followed by the far lengthier and more intricate Shabbos, leading Rav Gedaliah Schorr to pithily quote Rashi (Bereishis 2:2) באת שבת באת מנוחה – when Shabbos comes, it is time to rest. Literally, this refers to the respite that we enjoy on the seventh day of the week, but in a play on words, it can also refer to aborting one’s Daf Yomi plans when the more formidable Masechta of Shabbos arrives. The only way to succeed in finishing Shabbos and the rest of Shas that follows is by seeking ways to preserve the original burst of motivation.
Applying this lesson to the manna, Rav Reisman suggests that the first morning the Jewish people emerged from their tents in the middle of the desert and found food on the ground that had apparently descended from heaven and could instantly take on any taste they desired, they were astonished. They had never seen or heard of anything like it, so they incredulously asked one another: מן הוא – what is this?
At the same time, they also recognized that over the course of months and years, they would eventually get used to their miraculous food and start to take it for granted. Just as we accept rain falling from the skies as an ordinary part of nature, so too would they come to see their daily sustenance falling from heaven in the same light. To prevent that from happening, they chose to name it “Man” as an eternal reminder of the initial sense of wonder they felt when they first encountered it, a lesson we should learn from as we strive to find ways to hold onto the bolts of inspiration that strike us throughout our lives. (R’ Ozer Alport)
