TORAH SPARKS
Parashat Beshalach, Shabbat Shira
January 15, 2022, 13 Shvat 5782
Torah: Exodus 13:17-17:16; Triennial 14:26-17:16
Haftarah: Judges 4:4-5:31 (Ashkenazim); Sephardim Judges 5:1-31
Make the Bitter Sweet
Ilana Kurshan
Our parashah contains the dramatic high point of the Exodus story, in which God splits the Sea of Reeds so that the Israelites might pass through on dry land, and then closes up the waters again to drown their Egyptian oppressors. The Israelites, overcome by awe at the miracle that has befallen them, break out in exultant gratitude: This is my God and I will enshrine Him (15:2). Yet the Torah tells us that just three days later, when the people find themselves without potable water, they complain to Moshe, demanding to know what they are supposed to drink. This sudden transition from euphoric singing to querulous mumbling is like plummeting from a great height. Why are the people deprived of water so soon after the climactic moment of the Exodus, and what is God s response to the people s complaining meant to teach the Israelites, and all of us?
When the people first find themselves without drinking water after having journeyed three days from the Sea of Reeds, they are encamped at Marah. The word Marah means bitterness, and indeed, the problem at Marah is not that there is no water, but that the water is too bitter to drink. Bitterness was the hallmark of the Israelites experience of Egyptian enslavement the Egyptians made life bitter for them with harsh labor (Exodus 1:14). The people believed that in leaving Egypt, they were leaving the bitterness behind them. They are dismayed to encounter bitterness even after God s dramatic and miraculous deliverance. What shall we drink? they complain to Moshe. Remarkably, they do not make any mention of God at this point. The same people who, just three days before, sang out the Lord is my strength and might, He is become my deliverance (15:2), do not even think to turn to God, or to ask their leader to turn to God on their behalf. Have they already forgotten God s power to perform miracles with water? Surely a God who split the sea can provide drinking water!
The midrash relates that even Moshe had a spiritual crisis at Marah. When the people complained to Moshe, Moshe in turn appealed to God. According to the midrash, Moshe cried out, Why were these waters created? What benefit do they afford the world? It would be better if they had not been created! (Exodus Rabbah 43:3). Moshe, perhaps emotionally overwhelmed both by the dramatic splitting of the sea and by the stress of the people s neediness, is also incapable of making a straightforward request of God, and instead lashes out in frustration. Soon after the people s miraculous deliverance, it seems that Moshe, too, has lost faith in God s power to rally to the people s aid.
In the Torah, God responds to Moshe s cry by showing him a piece of wood which he can throw in the water to make it sweet. The midrash explains that God is trying to teach Moshe a lesson that can serve the people lifelong. God begins by objecting to Moshe s request to undo the creation of the waters: Don t say that. Are they not the work of my hands? Is there anything in the world that was not created for a purpose? Rather, I will teach you what you should say. Say this: Make the bitter sweet. There is no way to get rid of the bitterness; it is a part of the created world. The Israelites will continue to experience bitterness even after having escaped Egyptian bondage. But they can learn how to make the bitter sweet. As free people, they will have the power to change their circumstances so that the bitterness does not define the entirety of their experience.
The midrash further notes that the Torah does not say that God showed Moshe a piece of wood that he might place in the waters, but rather instructed him regarding the piece of wood. The Torah s word for instructed, vayorehu, comes from the same root as Torah, and various rabbinic sources teach that it was at Marah that the people received the very first of the Torah s laws. Water is a common metaphor for Torah, so the rabbis teach that the Israelites grew weary at Marah because they had just gone three days without Torah; for this reason, explain the sages, we are commanded to read Torah at least every three days, on Shabbat, Monday, and Thursday (Bava Kama 82a). The people were thirsty not only for water, but also for Torah to structure and give meaning to their newfound freedom.
After God sweetened the waters at Marah, He made for them there a fixed rule (15:25). The rabbis explain that this fixed rule consisted of ten laws that God gave the people at Marah, including the laws of Shabbat and of honoring parents (Sanhedrin 56a). Perhaps the belief that the people s lives would automatically lose all bitterness when they left Egypt was not the only illusion that the Israelites harbored. Perhaps they also thought that liberation meant freedom from all constraint the freedom to do anything they wanted seven days a week, and to flaunt all authority. But after three days, they found themselves in crisis, and so God began to structure their lives according to the rules of the Torah.
The lessons of Marah, then, are manifold. In addition to the series of laws that God gave to the people, He also showed them how to adjust to life as free people. As the people learn, freedom does not obliterate bitterness, but it does give us the agency to be able to sweeten some of the bitter moments. Likewise, freedom does not mean liberation from all constraint, but rather the opportunity to infuse our lives with structure and purpose. These lessons may go hand in hand by shaping our lives in accordance with the Torah s values and enriching our lives with its rituals, we may find that our bitter moments become sweeter. We may find ourselves receptive to miracles not just at life s rare and climactic moments, but also at the many wilderness encampments along the way.
Two Ends of a Stick
Vered Hollander-Goldfarb
Text: Shemot 17:3-5
3And the people thirsted there for water, and the people complained against Moshe, and said, Why is it you have brought us up out of Egypt, to kill us and our children and our livestock with thirst? 4So Moshe cried out to the Lord, saying, What shall I do with this people? They are almost ready to stone me! 5And the Lord said to Moshe, Pass before the people, and take with you some of the elders of Israel. And your rod with which you struck the river you shall take in your hand and you shall go. 6Behold, I will stand before you there on the rock in Horeb; and you shall strike the rock, and water will come out of it, that the people may drink.
● Do you consider the people s complaint legitimate? Did God consider it legitimate? What proof supports your answer?
● Why does Moshe think that the people are about to stone him? Do you think that they would have stoned him? Why?
● Why is Moshe told to take some elders along?
● Why do you think that Moshe is told to take the rod with which he struck the river?
Commentary: Rashi Shemot 17:5
And your rod with which you struck the river Why are the words "with which you struck the river" included? For the Israelites had said of the rod that it was intended only for punishment: by it Pharaoh and the Egyptians had been stricken with many plagues in Egypt and at the Sea of Reeds. Therefore, it is stated here: with which you struck the river they shall see now that it is also intended for good.
● Rashi (following the midrash) noticed that the description of the rod as the one that struck the river is not relevant for the current story. So why is it included in the verse?
● Try to think of other items that take on a positive or threatening meaning in people s lives, despite being merely an object. What is the message of using the same object for opposite results?
Commentary: Ramban Shemot 17:5
He mentioned the striking of the river, but He did not say, "and the rod which was turned to a serpent" to call attention to the wonder; for back then the rod turned the waters into blood, thus removing from them their nature, and now the rod brought water into a flinty rock, thus doing things of contrary effect.
● What other descriptive terms could have been used to describe this rod? Why are they not used?
● What is the wonder, according to the Ramban?
The Song of Deborah and All That Jazz
Bex Stern Rosenblatt
If we were to understand the Tanakh as a musical, the big, bold musical numbers would correspond to the songs, including the Song of the Sea (our parashah) and the Song of Deborah* (our haftarah). Songs in the Tanakh sound and feel different from the rest of the story. The language gets florid and archaic, the verses get an indefinable rhythm, and the plot gets fuzzy. We re not totally clear who is talking to whom or where the action is taking place, but boy is it beautiful. We understand how to make sense of songs in musicals. They express something inexpressible without music and dance, they require an interruption of the narrative to tell us something big. It s a window into the mind or spirit. Something very interesting happens when we read biblical songs in the same way.
The title Song of Deborah is misleading. It is a song about Deborah and sung by Deborah. But it is also about other people and sung by other people. The introduction to the song reads as follows: And Deborah sung (singular) and Barak son of Ahinoam on that day, saying. If this is Deborah s song, what is Barak doing singing it too? And is he even singing it, if the verb sing is singular? The medieval commentator Radak notes that this use of singular is not uncommon. The person mentioned first is the main actor and second mentioned is secondary. Barak is just joining in for the choruses.
As the song begins, it is emphatically in first person singular – I, to God, I, I will sing. But if this is just Deborah singing, it s confusing a few verses later when we hear, You arose, Deborah, you arose, a mother in Israel. Either Deborah is speaking about herself in third person or someone else is singing now. If this is a number in a musical, there is no incongruity. Of course, everyone is joining in the chorus, addressing the singer and making noise. The song began with a call for kings and princes to listen. But as we all know, if you start listening to a musical soon enough you might find yourself singing along.
This musical format also allows us to jump scenes. Within Deborah s song there is a brief split screen, we are pulled away from the Israelite point of view and hear from the mother of the killed Canaanite general. She does not yet know he is dead and is worried he is so late in coming back home. We hear an imagined response from one of her ladies-in-waiting, assuring her that he must just be doing some extra plundering and pillaging and will be back shortly. The musical format means we can break with reality to imagine the other as ourselves, to empathize with the enemy in song.
But the whole Tanakh is not a song and life is not a musical. The Song of the Sea and the Song of Deborah allow us to gloat at some of our most violent moments. Song and dance, music and lighting are wonderful tools for forming exuberant communities but they can obscure the ability to think for oneself.
*The idea of reading biblical songs, particularly the Song of Deborah, as musical numbers come from Shani Tzoref. I highly recommend her article, The songs of Miriam, Deborah, Hannah, and Rebecca (Bunch).