Shabbat Greetings
In this Torah portion, Beshallach (Exodus 13:17-17:16), God tells Moses to have the Israelites set up camp at the Sea of Reeds, but then Pharaoh changes his mind about freeing the Israelites and chases his former slaves. With the Egyptians on the Israelites’ tail, God splits the sea and Moses leads the Israelites through it. When the Egyptians enter, God closes the waters, and the Egyptians drown. Relieved and reassured, the Jewish people burst into song. Just hours before, they had faced their fate with panic, as Pharaoh and his legion of cavalry rushed towards their position on the banks of the Sea. With nowhere to flee between the oncoming army and the watery depths, they cried out to God in their moment of crisis.
Yet here they were, miraculously saved by the pathway God laid out for them through the sea. As they catch their breath, they sing a song, looking back on their fears, out upon the miracle, and onward to the bright future of freedom ahead. This emotional redemption at the splitting of the Sea is highlighted by a rabbinic commentator, the Baal Haturim (Rabbi Jacob Ben Asher – 1269-1343) in his commentary on the portion in the Book of Numbers, Masei (Num. 33:25). In the recounting of the journeys of the Jewish people, the Torah tells us that the Jews journeyed from ‘Charada’ to ‘Makhelot’.Rather than reading these as two place names, the Baal Haturim sees in this verse a reference to the splitting of the sea, when the Jews transitioned from terror (‘charada’) to collective singing (‘makhelot’). This shift in mindset is itself an element of redemption – the transition from the mode of panic and survivalism into one of recollection, reflection, and rejuvenation.
No less emotionally charged is the song of Deborah in our Haftarah (additional reading), sung at the completion of the war with the Canaanites at Har Tavor. Years of hostilities finally draw to an end with this decisive victory, marking the start of forty years of quiet in ancient Israel. Finally, Deborah can reflect upon what has taken place.
Like those who sang the Song of the Sea, Deborah too is now able to detect God’s hand in the story, a perspective that couldn’t be seen in the real-time thick of battle. She takes note of which tribes took part in the conflict and which failed to show up – offering praise and criticism, respectively, where they are due.
Deborah even closes her song with a reflection on the emotional cost felt across enemy lines, thinking of Sisera’s mother awaiting his return home – a poignant vignette that lives on in our ritual practice through the one hundred blasts of the Shofar on Rosh Hashanah. All of this taking stock occurs not during the war, but after it’s conclusion, when the newfound quiet began to set in.
We, too, stand at a moment that offers the hope of quiet. With a fragile cessation of hostilities holding for now, we feel just about ready to lift our heads and hearts from the emotional drain of wartime. The murdered and fallen will not return, the wounded are still healing, devastated communities are still rebuilding, and the hostages have not yet all been returned home. Yet, even with all the grief and fear we are still holding on to, glimpsing a possible end to this war allows us to begin reflecting – on how we got here, how we traversed this journey together, how we remember those who have fallen, how we help those who have been injured, and how we wish to move forward.
Our current relative quiet may not be the victorious relief felt by our ancestors at the Sea or at Har Tavor. But it is nonetheless a moment to embrace, a moment to catch our breath, individually and collectively, and to regain our bearings on our national journey. A journey of faith, resilience and responsibility to build our national homeland. A journey that has carried us through the generations.
SHABBAT SHALOM