February 4, 2023|י"ג שבט ה' אלפים תשפ"ג The Religious Insignificance of the Parting of the Yam Suf By Rabbi Jonathan Muskat

The website IGN.com lists the top 100 movie moments in history. Number one is Darth Vader telling Luke Skywalker, “I am your father” in the movie “The Empire Strikes Back.” I remember watching that scene when I was a young boy. It was a very emotional scene for me as I was a big fan of the Star Wars movies, but to be honest, I’m not sure if this movie scene or the Star Wars trilogy changed the trajectory of my life. Let’s skip to number 28. Number 28 of the top 100 movie moments in history is the parting of the Red Sea from the movie “The Ten Commandments.” By the way, that scene beat out the scene of Dorothy saying, “We’re not in Kansas anymore,” in the movie “The Wizard of Oz.” The parting of the Red Sea – number 28 in the top 100 movie moments in history. The explanation for the prominence of this iconic scene is that it “is not only one of the most famous images and powerful passages in the Old Testament, it is also one of the most iconic and oft-parodied moments in film history.” Additionally, “as great as the visual effects are in this scene, it’s Rameses’ subsequent stunned confession to princess Nefretiri that he may have been worshipping the wrong God all along that helps sells its emotional punch.”

As Torah observant Jews, when we consider one of the greatest, most spectacular events that happened in the history of our people, one of them undoubtedly is kriat Yam Suf, the parting of the Red Sea. I would argue that if we would make a top 100 Biblical moments in Jewish history, the parting of the Red Sea would probably do better than number 28. It was such an impressive spectacle that Rashi, citing the Mechilta, states, “ra-ata shifcha al ha-yam mah she’lo ra’u ha-ne-vi-im,” that a maidservant saw at the Red Sea what even the prophets never saw. It was such an impressive spectacle that afterwards the Torah states, “Va-ya-aminu ba-Hashem u-v’Moshe avdo,” that the Bnei Yisrael developed a newfound faith in God and in Moshe as His servant. It was such a seminal moment in the early development of the Bnei Yisrael. And yet, I would argue that the takeaway message of the Torah from this dazzling miracle, the parting of the Yam Suf, is not how significant this miracle was, but the takeaway message of the Torah is actually how religiously insignificant this dazzling miracle is in our day-to-day lives as Jews.

First, the newfound faith that we felt at this time didn’t last. And it didn’t just fade over time, with the passage of a few months or a few years. Three days later, the Bnei Yisrael are crying and complaining about the lack of water. Where was their faith in God? Later in the parsha they complain about water again and they tell Moshe, “lamah zeh he-e-litanu mi-Mitzrayim l’hamit oti v’et banai v’et miknai ba-tzama” – why did you bring us up from Egypt, to kill us and our children and livestock with thirst? Moshe turns to God and asks Him to help him out because he is afraid that the Bnei Yisrael will stone him. The following story in this parsha has Amalek attacking the Bnei Yisrael and Rashi explains that this was a punishment for a lack of faith in God. Where was the faith from number 28 of the top movie moments in history? Where was the faith from kriat Yam Suf? It didn’t last.

Secondly, we do not even celebrate this event in a direct way at all. Yes, the parting of the Yam Suf takes place on the seventh day of Pesach and the seventh day of Pesach is celebrated as a Yom Tov; however, nowhere does the Torah explicitly tell us when this miracle happened and nowhere does the Torah connect the celebration of this Yom Tov with the splitting of the Yam Suf. It is true that we read about the parting of the Yam Suf in the Torah reading of the seventh day of Pesach, but there is no explicit connection on a Torah level between this event and the holiday of Pesach. We also say half-Hallel on the seventh day of Pesach like we do on every other day of Pesach except the first day. Additionally, if this event was truly a central event of our faith, an event when we were finally redeemed, an event when we literally saw our Egyptian masters dead in the water, then why is there no requirement to remember this date of this event like we are required to remember the day that we left Egypt? Why is this day not called a day of redemption for our people, maybe redemption part two?

It actually seems as if the parting of the Yam Suf dealt with a very specific problem, but it may not have been significant to the essence of our religion. The Ibn Ezra (Shmot 14:30-31), among other mefarshim, points out that we still had a slave mentality when we left Egypt. We were free physically, but we still felt that the Egyptians were our masters. We could not truly become servants to God while we still felt enslaved or indebted to the Egyptians, while we still felt that they were our overlords. The Bnei Yisrael needed to see their Egyptian overlords literally dead in the water, but this miracle wasn’t central to our faith and our national history, even though the miracle was dazzling and spectacular and a maidservant there witnessed what our greatest prophets didn’t witness. And maybe that’s the real message of kriat Yam Suf. Maybe the real of message of kriat Yam Suf is how impressive and yet how religiously insignificant it was in the history of our people, specifically in contrast to seven days earlier, when we left Egypt. I think this is true in two ways.

First, the message of kriat Yam Suf and its aftermath is that faith is not necessarily long-lasting. In fact, that may be why Chazal in the Mechilta refer to our experience at the Yam Suf as a maidservant who experienced prophecy. Why didn’t we call the people who witnessed these miracles prophetesses. And the answer, says Rav Chaim Brisker, is that it is possible for an individual to reach the level of prophesy and yet remain a maidservant, without acquiring the title of prophet. Chazal teach us that Bnei Yisrael witnessed great miracles, but they remained “maidservants.” They didn’t permanently change themselves into prophets. See, moments of faith come and go. We can have moments of faith and then lose that feeling. We can have kriat Yam Suf moments when we want to sing to God, and then we can have moments three days later when we complain to God. The essence of religion cannot be pledging our faith to God because those moments are often fleeting. The essence of religion was the night of Pesach, when we consumed a sheep, a god of the Egyptians, which we slaughtered. The essence of religion was not a pledge of allegiance, but it was an act of faith, an act of commitment, even when we may not have had full faith in God.

We leave Egypt without having full faith in God because we can still be part of God’s nation even as we struggle with our faith. In a famous essay entitled “Faith and Doubt,” Rabbi Lamm distinguished between different types of faith. He explained that it is okay to have questions and doubts with cognitive faith, which occurs when we question certain propositions about God as to whether they are, in fact, true. In fact, sometimes the questions propel us to think even more deeply about our faith and we end up with even stronger faith as a result of those questions. However, Rabbi Lamm argues that while it’s legitimate and maybe even productive to have doubts in our cognitive faith, we cannot have doubts in our functional faith, in the way we act. We must act as if we have faith, even as we struggle with our faith. And that is the message of the religious insignificance of kriat Yam Suf compared to the religious significance of the night that we left Egypt. What’s important for us to remember is the action, the commitment on our part which led to our freedom on the night of Pesach, and not the faith of kriat Yam Suf which turned out to be fleeting. To be a committed Jew and to be a part of the nation of Israel on the night of Pesach is to commit to action, to offering a korban Pesach, even if we have doubts and even if we must work through issues during our journey through life, but halachic practice during this journey is non-negotiable.

Secondly, kriat Yam Suf cannot define us as a nation because that is not our essence. Our essence is not the destruction of others. Drowning the Egyptians was a necessary evil to help detach the Bnei Yisrael from their feelings of servitude to their Egyptian masters, but kriat Yam Suf is not our redemption story. Our redemption story is the first night of Pesach, sharing a festive meal with family and friends, praising God and committing ourselves to our Divine mission. The birth of our nation should be associated with acts and peace and love, but not acts of war, like witnessing the demise of the Egyptian army. Yes, the first night of Pesach was a time of the killing of firstborn Egyptians, but we didn’t witness it. We were in our homes in celebrating with family and friends and connecting with God. This is our story. This is who we are.

This is why the parting of the Yam Suf, as dazzling and miraculous as it was, is not central at all to our theology. Our theology is about action and if we are fortunate enough to have moments of faith and deep connection resulting from our action, then that would be wonderful, but it is a bonus. And our theology is not about conquest and violence and military victories. It is about our family and our friends and sharing our hopes and visions and aspirations with each other as we break bread together. It’s as simple as that.

Usually, the Torah tells us stories that are central to our mission and our national story. But once in a while, the Torah tells us a story but conveys to us that, yes, it may be impressive, it may be number 28 on the IGN.com top 100 movie moment list, but it’s not really who we are.