Special thanks to Daniel Dilamani for suggesting an analysis of this Midrash for our weekly post. Please feel free to submit your requests if there is a Midrash you’re interested in exploring further.

Ten periods of famine came to the world. One was in the days of Adam the First, as it says, “the land will be cursed because of you.” And one in the days of Lemekh (father of Noah), as it says, “from the land that the Eternal has cursed.” And one in the days of Avraham, as it says, “and there was a famine in the land.” And one in the days of Yitzchaq, as it says “and there was a famine in the land, in addition to the first famine [that occurred in the days of Avraham.” And one in the days of Yaaqov, as it says, “because it has been two years of famine.” And one in the days of the judgment of the Judges, as it says, “and it happened during the days of the judgment of the Judges, there was a famine in the land.” And one in the days of David, as it says, “and there was a famine in the days of David for three years.” And one in the days of Eliyahu, as it says, “as the Eternal, God of Israel lives, before Whom I have stood, there will not be dew or rain during these years except according to my word.” And one in the days of Elisha, as it says, “and there was a great famine in Shomron.” And one that will develop and emerge in the world in the future, as it says, “Not a famine for bread and not a thirst for water, but to hear the words of the Eternal.”

This teaching is found in several compilations of Rabbinic exegesis, each time in a slightly different form and in connection with a different Biblical verse. This is the version that appears in Beresheet Rabba. The anonymous Midrash presents a list of ten periods of famine that are mentioned in Tanakh, beginning with the Divine curse that was placed upon the land after the sin of Adam and Eve. The tenth and final famine is not a drought or food shortage in the physical sense but a time of spiritual hunger and thirst that will develop prior to the Messianic Era.

The most problematic aspect of this Midrash is not anything bizarre about its content but the mere fact that it seems to state the obvious! Any careful reader of the Hebrew Bible who is interested in cataloguing all of the instances of famine recorded therein would be able to identify them on his or her own, without the help of the Midrash. Why did the Sages go out of their way to provide us with a list that literally tells us nothing new? What benefit is there in pointing out the many periods of hunger that occurred during Biblical times?

Moreover, the final famine that the prophet assures us will take place in the future is not really a famine at all – it is a period of spiritual starvation and helplessness. As terrible as such a void of Divine wisdom is, it doesn’t seem to belong on a list of years during which life and death hung in the balance and survival itself was at stake. Why did the Rabbis include the last example in their teaching, when for all intents and purposes, it appears to be totally unlike the rest of the cases they cite?

Undoubtedly, the Rabbis had more in mind with this Midrash than simply summarizing facts for us about Biblical accounts of famine. Rehashing historical data would not have been worth the time and effort of our Sages. In reality, they are directing our attention to a theme across Tanakh that, once we perceive it, deepens our appreciation of the meaning of the text.

When we consider the array of contexts in which years of famine are described in the Tanakh, an unmistakable pattern emerges: namely, in every single instance, the crisis engendered by lack of food was followed by religious, intellectual, or moral progress. The difficulty they encountered as they attempted to extract sustenance from the earth heightened Adam and Noah’s awareness of God’s mastery of the world and their place in it. In Adam’s case, this is evidenced by the fact that, humbled after his expulsion from Eden, he raised children “in his form and likeness”, who acknowledged the Almighty and sought to serve Him. When Noah was born, his father declared, “this child should bring us relief from our work and the toil of our hands, from the land that the Eternal has cursed.” According to tradition, Noah applied his keen intellect to developing technology that eased the burden of farmers. Beyond that, or perhaps through it, he gained an awareness of God’s presence and the Divine plan for mankind that led to his “finding favor in the eyes of the Eternal.” The orientation of human beings to the environment in which they lived, and to the meaning of their existence, was fundamentally transformed because of the challenges they faced struggling for physical survival.

Avraham and Yitzchaq both experienced famine in the Land of Israel. In search of food, Avraham was compelled to relocate to Egypt, which unexpectedly catapulted him to heights of fame and fortune that then enabled him to more effectively spread knowledge of God in the world. Prior to his visit in Egypt and the miracles that occurred in its wake, he was an unknown straggler, preaching foreign ideas to passersby that were easily dismissed. His brief time in Egypt made all the difference, as he emerged as a force to be respected and reckoned with. Yitzchaq, in his time, was forced by famine to move to the region of Gerar, where he made political and social connections that later served as a platform from which to proclaim the Unity of God to all who would listen. On his own, it was unlikely he would have spread the Abrahamic message further than his own family. Ultimately, it was his friendship with Avimelekh that allowed him to fulfill the mandate of his father and to “call out in the name of the Eternal.” Without the pangs of famine that compelled them to relocate, neither of these incredible human beings would have had the opportunity to exert the measure of influence that they did upon the people of their time.

The famine in the days of Yaaqov served as a stimulus for Yosef’s rise to power and the immigration of his father and brothers to Egypt. This put Yosef in a position where he could (and did) share Divine wisdom with Pharaoh and his subjects. It also paved the way for his family to establish a community in Goshen that preserved the tradition of monotheism and worship of the Almighty, a community that formed the nucleus of the future Nation of Israel.

During the period of the judges, hunger in Israel led to the departure of Elimelekh and Naomi to Moav, eventuating in Ruth’s conversion to Judaism and, generations later, the establishment of the Davidic Monarchy and the construction of the Temple in Jerusalem. Three years of drought in Israel during King David’s time inspired him to consult prophets of the Almighty who helped him identify, and rectify, a terrible desecration of God’s name that had been perpetrated by his predecessor, King Shaul. While Eliyahu and Elisha served as the premiere true prophets of the Kingdom of Israel, the plague of famine was what compelled the recalcitrant monarchs and their hapless subjects to engage with, and occasionally even embrace, the Divine message. Had the economy been uniformly prosperous during these periods, the abysmal spiritual status quo would have been maintained, and critical elements of God’s plan for mankind would have been neglected.

In summary, in this Midrash, the Sages direct our attention to the fact that the pain of famine and economic hardship is most often what moves human beings out of their comfort zones of complacency and inspires them, or empowers them, to change or to affect change. Hunger led some to seek the word of Hashem and pressed others into situations where they had the opportunity to share it. The affliction to which they were subjected was not an historical accident but a deliberately selected, and highly effective, instrument of Divine Providence.

An interesting proof for this interpretation of the Midrash is the one famous case of “cursing the land” that is NOT mentioned by the Sages – namely, Hashem’s punishment of Qayin after he murdered his brother, Hevel. If the Midrash merely intended to list verses in which the difficulty of obtaining food from the land is emphasized, it is odd that they would have overlooked God’s condemnation of Qayin and declaration that “the land will no longer give its strength to you.” In reality, this is the proverbial exception that proves the rule. The Rabbis omitted this case because Qayin did not respond to famine by reflecting, learning or improving himself. He simply avoided the curse of the land by abandoning agricultural life and taking refuge in an urban mode of existence. Hence, the message of God to Qayin would NOT fit with the theme the Sages meant to develop in this Midrash.

Why, though, do the Rabbis cite the “hunger and drought for the word of Hashem” as the tenth famine mentioned in the Hebrew Bible? What connection does it have to the other examples on the list? In view of our explanation, we can now understand it. What is significant about famine in all of the other cases is the fact that it pushed human beings to a greater understanding of or connection with the wisdom of Hashem. However, the fact that we need a bodily stimulus, a form of suffering, to create a situation in which our awareness of God is heightened and to inspire us to seek knowledge of Him is an unfortunate byproduct of our reluctance to change when we are physically comfortable. Over the course of history, few if any revolutions, wars or other transformative events have taken place during periods of calm and economic prosperity. What moves people to alter their perspectives or their lives is, most often, physical discomfort or dissatisfaction. No matter how bereft of real insight or wisdom we may be, we are unlikely to notice it unless we are subjected to some kind of palpable distress.

What the prophet assures us is that this will not always be the case. Indeed, throughout history, human beings have only really changed in response to bodily pain. But the day will come when the absence of knowledge, wisdom and divine illumination will be sensed in and of itself, when we will be inspired to seek it not because of any physical discomfort but because of the metaphysical void we experience within ourselves, in our lives, and in our society. The truest lack of sustenance, the greatest existential threat we face, is not the lack of nourishment for our bodies but the lack of nourishment for our minds and our souls.