Parashat “B’shalach” (Exodus 13:17-17:16)
for the week of January 15th, 2011
It’s tempting to paint a heroic picture of redemption. After all, this week’s Torah portion includes the epic poem (known as ‘Shirat Hayam’—‘The Song of the Sea’) supposedly sung by Moses and the Israelites after their rescue at the Sea of Reeds (Ex. 15:1-20). The poem is a masterpiece of biblical Hebrew poetry. Its soaring imagery extols God’s victory over Pharaoh’s army—“I will sing to the Eternal, for He has triumphed gloriously; Horse and driver He has hurled into the sea (Ex. 15:1).” But both the rest of the exodus story and the evidence of our own lives suggest that redemption is often messier and more complex.
Seeing the advancing Egyptian army and trapped by the edge of the sea, the terrified Israelites ask Moses why he brought them out into the wilderness to die. Despite being terrified, they do so in a tone of exquisite irony: “Were there not enough graves in Egypt that you brought us to die in the wilderness (Ex. 14:11)?!” Then, shortly after the victory song at the sea, the newly redeemed slaves complain about not having water to drink (Ex. 15:24) or food to eat (Ex. 16:3). In fact, they even add insult to injury by glorifying their former diet as slaves in Egypt!
Obviously, these incidents (repeated with variations throughout the Torah) are not an especially heroic display of the people’s unyielding faith in Moses and God. And we haven’t even touched on the idolatry of the golden calf or the spies’ libelous report about the Promised Land. And while we could cite many other, non-heroic aspects of the exodus narrative (e.g., Miriam and Aaron’s jealousy and criticism of Moses, Moses’ irritation with the people and violent loss of temper, God’s threats to destroy the Israelites and just start over again), the point is clear. Notwithstanding some undeniably ‘epic’ moments, the story of our people’s journey towards redemption is complicated, messy and frequently unflattering.
For better or worse, that profile seems to match a great deal of human history and our life experience. Whether as individuals or as communities, we don’t seem to grow in straight lines. Often, we get scared and want to return to what’s familiar—even if that familiar past was unhealthy and destructive. Like our ancestors, in moments of fear and uncertainty, we long to go back to Egypt. Our memories can be very short. Like our ancestors, we celebrate victories or lessons learned with elaborate ceremony only to lose hold of the lessons or forget those victories within weeks. A surprisingly short time after the grand proclamations and victory celebrations, we find ourselves complaining about the food. And even the best among us—including, certainly, our leaders—are prone to insecurity, to jealousy, to pettiness, to impatience and to acting out. Even our greatest leaders strike the rock out of anger from time to time.
Perhaps, that’s the point. Perhaps, the Torah means to teach us that in spite of ourselves, in spite of our flaws, fears and insecurities, we remain capable of achieving redemption. Despite the fact that we never make our journey to the Promised Land on a simple, straight path, somehow, every once in a while, we still get there. Certainly, not right away. Almost never in the exact way we’d planned. And usually, not without some losses and scars as the price of our learning. But we do get there sometimes. And that, in itself, may be enough reason for us to sing.
