In every generation, we must each see ourselves as if we left Egypt, as if we crossed the Reed Sea. Therefore, we stand when reading the Song of the Sea from a Torah scroll.
What did an ordinary Israelite feel when crossing the sea on dry land, when walking through the dark towards freedom? We cannot know for sure but these verses supply a hint:
What did an ordinary Israelite feel when crossing the sea on dry land, when walking through the dark towards freedom? We cannot know for sure but these verses supply a hint:
The Eternal drove back the sea with a strong east wind all that night, and turned the sea into dry ground. The waters were split, and the Israelites went into the sea on dry ground” (Exodus 14:21-22).
A wind from God sweeps over the water, divides waters, and gathers them so dry land can appear. Does that sound familiar? We have returned to Genesis. The ten plagues undid creation in Egypt. Splitting the sea was a moment of re-creation.
Exposing dry land was an essential component of creation just as it was essential for the Israelites’ walk to freedom. Despite this, I want to focus on the waters that “formed a wall for them on their right and on their left” (Exodus 14:22).
Walls of water.
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| Photo Illustration/Paula C. Rondeau/The Real Truth |
O God, my king from of old… it was You who drove back the sea with Your might, who smashed the heads of the monsters in the waters; it was You who crushed the heads of Leviathan, who left him as food for the denizens of the desert; it was You who released springs and torrents, who made mighty rivers run dry (Ps. 74: 12-15).Facing the desert, with Pharaoh and his army pursuing them, the Israelites marched through the darkness between walls of primordial chaos.
What did they feel? Fear and terror.
Despite it all, the freed slaves put one foot in front of the other, and walked together until they reached the other side.In the collective memory of the Jewish people, splitting the Reed Sea is a root experience, a commanding event from the past that is accessible in the present, as defined by the Jewish-German-Canadian philosopher Emil Fackenheim.
In God’s Presence in History, Fackenheim presents splitting the Reed Sea as the prime example of a root experience in Judaism. He focuses on the vision of the maidservants who saw even what the prophet Ezekiel would not see (as per Mekhilta Shirata 3).
The central stream in Judaism, that which formalized our liturgy, preserves the memory of the splitting of the Reed Sea and makes it present as the ultimate realization of God’s saving power.
Without denying their claims, I want to add another layer.
Before the Exodus from Egypt was complete; before “The Lord is my strength and might” and “This is my God who I shall glorify,” the Israelites were surrounded by the Egyptian army and threatening walls of water. Before jubilation, ordinary people slogged through the mud in the dark, supporting each other. These are elements in the story of redemption no less than the Song.
When disorder exceeds order, the swamp is threatening and fog hides the light, we can return to our root story, and recall that the Exodus from Egypt happened at night, in the mud. When God is hidden, we can support each other and together forge a way forward. Perhaps we will be able to feel the presence of God for a moment or see the light of life breaking through, just a bit.
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