Beshallach
My name is Miriam, daughter of Amram and Yocheved, and sister to Moses and Aaron. My brothers have recently been in close encounters with The Almighty in negotiating (if you want to call it that) freedom for the Children of Israel. Pharoah has been beyond stubborn, with a heart hardened like stone, in allowing us to leave Egypt so that we can serve our God. Only with the death of the first born, including Pharoah’s own son, were we given the small window of opportunity to flee from Egypt, house of bondage.
Moses made sure to take Joseph’s bones as promised centuries ago. We weren’t far from Egypt when God once more hardened Pharoah’s heart, proving yet again that God will be glorified through Pharoah and his forces, so that the Egyptians recognize God as Adonai.
I look back and I see chariots with officers pursuing us. There must be at least 600 of them. People are complaining to Moses, convinced that life in Egypt would have been better than our current situation. But Moses is told by God to stretch his hand over the sea that is before us, and we came into the midst of the sea on dry land, with the waters as a wall from our right and from our left.
Following the Song of the Sea, which is a highlight of what will become Parashat, B’shalach, I was inspired to take this timbrel, and all the women came out after me with timbrels and dances. And I called, “Sing to the Lord, for exalted is Adonai. A horse and its rider He cast to the sea.”
The Children of Israel need to emerge from the narrowness of our past, and yet it appears that they have forgotten the harshness of slavery. We walk for three days and do not find water. We come to Marah and find water, but it is bitter. It takes an intervention by God to make the water sweet and drinkable. And yet the people complain again. We are given food that will sustain us for the unforeseeable future. In fact, we are given a double portion on the sixth day so that even in the desert we can rest from our labor. This resting day is the core of what keeps us together as community and helps to ground us for the other days. I can envision centuries from now, when future generations sanctify the fruit of the vine, that they will lift their cups and utter words reminding themselves of the work of creation as well as our recent Exodus from Egypt.
We have learned through the midwives that during the birthing process, a child must travel from the womb through the narrowest of spaces to emerge into life. That life begins with a breath, an opening of the eyes, and a cry which is like music to a parent’s ear. The word breath in Hebrew is neshimah. The word for soul is neshamah. To breathe gives life to our soul. Egypt for the Children of Israel was the narrowest of places, as we were not allowed to serve our God. Our breathing was stifled by the harshness of slavery. Our eyes were not allowed to be open to the potential we now have as a free People. Our voices, whether singing at the victory of crossing the Sea, or complaining from not understanding God’s ultimate plan, are not stifled.
I have no idea what the future holds for our People. But as surely as God guides us by day with clouds, and with fire by night, I know that there is a sukkat shalom¸ a shelter of peace, that puts my mind at ease in this vast wilderness.
Hashkiveinu adonai eloheinu l’shalom … V’Ha’amideinu shomreinu
l’chayim tovim l’Shalom
Oh Lord, Our God, let us lie down in peace each night
Our Guardian, raise us up again each day to good life and peace … Amen.
