Seventh Day Passover: Crossing the Red Seas of Life
(delivered by Rabbi Sacks on April 22, 2022)
Today we read the unforgettable, thrilling episode of the crossing of the Red Sea. The Israelites, in great haste, cast off the chains and shackles of their servitude when Pharaoh, finally, granted Moses permission to take them out of Egypt. But no sooner do they reach the banks of the Red Sea than they come face to face with crisis. Pharaoh, again, had a change of heart. Our ancestors see behind them the hosts of the Egyptian army in full pursuit; directly ahead of them surge the treacherous waters of the Red Sea. What are they to do? Where are they to turn? How are they to react to this new crisis?
Our tradition records[1] that at that precise moment the Israelites expressed four differing opinions on how to proceed. One group exclaimed, “Let us plunge into the sea! There is no hope! Let us drown ourselves!” A second group counseled flight: “Let us run away; let us hide.” Still others advised, “Let us face the Egyptians and make war against them!” A fourth view suggested, “Let us return to the slavery of Egypt.”
The Torah records that, as the Israelites stood there in agonized consternation, HaShem rebuked Moses. “Why do you cry out to me? Speak to the Israelites yourself–let them go forward.” The Rabbis surmise that in actuality G!d exhorted Moses, “Why do the people express these various opinions now? Why these outcries of despair? Speak to them! Bid them go forward, for as I, HaShem, have helped them in the past so, too, shall I guide them now.”
Every human being, at one time or another, must face a crossing of the Red Sea. Each of us, sooner or later, must cope with the challenge of crisis. How often in life do we reach the point of no return just as did the Israelites, perceiving, as it were, the Egyptians behind us and the waters of the sea swelling in front of us? How often do we feel ourselves between hammer and anvil, between Scylla and Charybdis? We know not what to do, where to turn, how to react!
A young mother is stricken with cancer, a husband is taken away in the prime of life, a precious child plucked in the tender bloom of youth–and we face a crossing of the Red Sea. We suffer ill health, business reverses, a vexing family problem, loneliness, unbridled anger, rejection, humiliation, danger–at each point, we face a crossing of the Red Sea. There are moments in life when it seems that our entire world is shattered, our whole universe is cracking and crumbling. What to do? How to react? How do we meet the crisis? And how often, when we come face to face with a crossing of the Red Sea, do we adopt the very same attitudes that the Israelies expressed in their moment of agony and despair?
For some of us, alas, the first thought is, “Let us plunge into the sea!” Let us destroy ourselves! Life is worthless, meaningless, senseless, and futile; we are better off dead! Perhaps not an actual suicide, but veritable suicide is our immature solution. We cut ourselves off from the world and society. I did this for some time when I was widowed at age 35. We spurn our closest friends. We harbor a sullen and bitter resentment in our hearts. We close off our hearts. We become incapable of and uninterested in deriving enjoyment from the pleasures of life. We callously neglect our homes and families, our businesses, our civic and communal responsibilities.
Benjamin Franklin once commented, “Nine people out of ten are suicides.” How many of us are veritable suicides, spiritually and emotionally. The psychiatrist Karl Menninger, in his book Man Against Himself,[2] discusses psychological and mental suicides. According to Dr. Menninger, psychosis, antisocial behavior, alcoholism, drug dependency, purposeful accidents, self-mutilation, and maintaining a martyr complex are all manifestations of veritable suicide that we might select in our attempt to evade the crisis of crossing a Red Sea. But, as Count Alfieri[3] remarked, “The test of courage is not to die, but to live.”
A second attitude we adopt in the face of crisis was also expressed by our Israelite ancestors assembled on the banks of the Red sea. “Let us run away and hide!” Escapism! How commonplace is this particular reaction to crisis! We wonder how we can possibly face our friends and associates after what has occurred to us. And sometimes, we feel deeply ashamed and embarrassed. We might believe that people are staring at us and talking behind our backs, discussing our personal problems! We want to run away and hide!
I know a women who lost her beloved spouse. She did not know how to cross her particular Red Sea. She ran away, embarked upon a six-month cruise around the world. When she returned, I asked her, “Did the cruise help? Did it relieve you of your terrible bereavement?” She replied, “No! I did not solve my problem; I merely postponed it.”
Somerset Maugham[4] tells the story of a servant in Bagdad who one day sees the Angel of Death in the marketplace. In fear and trepidation, he returns home to his master.
“I have seen the Angel of Death in the bazaar,” he exclaims. “I shall escape to Samara where he cannot find me. I leave at once!”
That afternoon his master visits the bazaar to seek out the Angel of Death, finds him and rebukes him. “Why did you make a threatening gesture towards my servant this morning?”
“Oh, no!” replied the Angel of Death. “It was not a threatening gesture at all. Rather, it was an indication of surprise. I was amazed to find him in Bagdad, for I have an appointment with him this evening in Samara!”
There is no escape from meeting crisis! We can neither hide nor run away from it. And the test of courage is not to hide, nor escape, but to live.
A third counsel that we sometimes adopt in the face of crossing a Red Sea is, “Let us fight against the Egyptians.” When a crisis occurs so many of us want to fight back, protest, strike out, bargain, or complain bitterly and often about the utter injustice of our fate. We refuse to accept that which has come to pass, and we go about life with a chip on our shoulder. Indeed, we make intemperate use of the word “if.” “If the doctor had only discovered the malignancy six months ago, our beloved would still be alive!” If we had only evinced more consideration for mother or father, we would not be overburdened with a sense of profound guilt!” If the rabbi had only visited, or visited more often, or stayed a bit longer or shorter, our loved one would not be in this situation. If we had not embarked upon that automobile trip, the accident would not have occurred!”
The story is told of a Marine who, during World War II, had served his country valiantly in the Pacific. He fought with distinction at Guadalcanal and the Solomon Islands. Captured by the Japanese, for two long intolerable years he suffered the tortures and privations of a prison camp. After he was liberated, a friend asked him, “When you were languishing in that Japanese prison camp, did you not fight back? Did you not protest and complain?”
“No, answered the Marine simply. “I did not complain, for I have been in places where complaint could not possibly help!”
The test of courage is not futile protest but to live.
A fourth counsel we sometimes adopt in the face of crossing our personal Red Sea is, “Let us go back to Egypt. Let us return to slavery and servitude.” So many of us attempt to evade the crisis by retreating to the hidden recesses of the past. We act as if our beloved were still alive. We slowly withdraw from reality and live in a dream world of our own obsessions and our own making. We fondle the pictures of our beloved–their clothing, books, and furniture, anything that seemed precious to them in life. We don’t want to depart with them.
And we travel again and again to the places that we once visited together. Thomas Wolfe in his novel, Look Homeward, Angel,[5] tells us that we cannot go home again; we cannot retreat into the false security of the never-to-be-recaptured past.
Have you ever experienced the shock of disillusionment upon returning to the scene of your childhood. I have. I discovered that my home was smaller than I remembered, and the neighborhood was not nearly as beautiful or as grandiose as I believed it to be. The home and neighborhood had not changed much during the many years, but I had! You cannot really go home again; you cannot seek solace and comfort in a past that is gone forever; you cannot retreat into the illusions of childhood, for they no longer exist.
The test of courage is not to retreat but to live.
We adopt, then, these four attitudes in the face of crisis–the very same ones that our panic-stricken ancestors resorted to when the Egyptians threatened from behind and the Red Sea’s waters surged up before them. The Torah records that HaShem rebuked the Israelites, “Why do you cry out to Me? Go forward!” In the face of crisis, this is the counsel of true religion. Life goes on. Whatever comes to pass we try to behold as part of the Divine plan. We regard each tragedy as a stepping-stone to greater maturity and wisdom. The test of courage is to move forward and live.
G!d commanded Moses at the Red Sea, “Life up your staff upon the waters.” When we face a crossing of the Red Sea, we must cease crying and go forward. In the words of the Prophet, “Though I am fallend, I shall rise again. Though I dwell in darkness, G!d is my light.”
As we face the Red Seas of our lives, may we pass the test of courage.
May we have the courage to see G!d’s beacon of light and hear G!d’s call.
May we have the courage to live.
May we have the courage to move forward.
Amen.
Chag samei-ach!
[1] Mechilta d’Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai 14:13. The work is a halachic midrash composed c. 1000 C.E.. Today it only exists in fragments and in quotations in various sources, mainly in Midrash Tehillim.
[2] Man Against Himself, New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1938. Menninger (1893-1990), was part of the family of psychiatrists that founded the Menninger Foundation and the Menninger Clinic. He was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom by President Jimmy Carter in 1981.
[3] Count Vittorio Alfieri (1749-1803) was an Italian dramatist and poet, and is considered the founder of Italian tragedy. He authored 19 tragedies, sonnets, satires, and a notable autobiography.
[4] William Somerset Maugham (1874-1965) was an English playwright, novelist, and short story writer. Among the most popular and highest paid authors of his generation, he is remembered today especially for his 1915 masterpiece, Of Human Bondage.
[5] The 1929 coming-of-age novel was the first novel by Thomas Hardy (1900-1938). It is considered highly autobiographical. Its popularity endures.