Exodus - Cycle One - 1317-1716 - BeShelach

It’s Super Bowl 2009.

You watch this once a year with your son who has lost his father. You want your son to win. You can’t get reception at home…so you call your boyfriend who invites you into his living room. You want your boyfriend to win as well.

This is what we see.

The ball is intercepted. He races across the field, from line to line, shifting, dodging, charging as the opposing team closes in behind. Blurred images on the side are giving signals with their hands. You wonder how he’s feeling. There’s the slam of your heart, your ears ringing, the pulse of your breath. You can almost see the trail blazing, the path and run in one moment, the field opening. It’s so fast they seem to be letting him by, as if they are one not many.

Does a man think in these situations? My guess is yes but too much thought and you get taken down. If you start banging on a wall, bemoaning a barrier, you lose the rhythm of the rush. There’s pain, yes…in your lungs, in your body under all that armor. Maybe there’s a hum and chant of both joy and pain in your mind. Maybe that’s what keeps you moving. You race within the boundaries. That’s the big rule this moment. You race through conflicts, threats, fears in uniform, in the shape of man, through generations of nurturing, slavery and suffering carrying the bones of your ancestors in your heart. You race in this arena and in those before made for the tens of thousands.

More on how he might be thinking. He’s done the work. He has muscle inside, outside. He’s almost beyond human. He’s set, used to holding that football player shape and pose. But he’s the most unlikely of men. He’s a linebacker, built for defense and tackle, not for agility and speed. He wouldn’t choose the job if he was asked, not if he was paid double. He’d give it to someone better suited, a receiver, a quarterback. For now though, he has to own it.

“Yes!” my son shouts. Touchdown!

We watch as he collapses after the hundred yard run. He’s exhausted but alive, very much alive. Will he be the MVP player, I wonder? Now let’s look at BeShalach.

We’re not all big time athletes. So how can we blaze a similar path? First, we need to stay strong and set with light as a beacon in our hearts and as shields on our skin. This we’ve already learned in Bo.


Then, the darkness will recede, let us through. That’s why Pharoah finally lets us go. Next, our stream of light leaves a vacuum. Darkness floods in. In BeShalach Pharoah orders his armies after us. What do we do? We get frightened. So God gives us a vision and helps us to set it in our minds. Later, the cloud and the flame move behind to guard us. We have to race ahead alone, have trust. The Egyptians meanwhile is written in the singular, their horses as well. This is one darkness. This is not about people, rather about the force they create when together. That’s what Rashi points out. So when the people drown, it is a sign of our light to have compassion.

More on this. How else do we find protection? Certainly with song. And we get an important one here. The future tense means it is first silent joy, then sound. The format shows how white space and the pause have to dodge letters and words, how two columns of white space can rise in sparks (Zohar). The brick‐like letters further show that the joy of the song is one of the strongest shields we have in our hearts, hands and mouths.

In the end, the breaking free from darkness is a dramatic action. It can’t be done without help from the divine. What we don’t want however is to bang our fists on the walls, to feed despair, inner turmoil, physical struggle. We want to leave darkness to fold in upon itself and drown itself out. And even if we’re not the most enlightened, the strongest, the wealthiest, the most obvious choice, somehow we’re prepared. In short, we want to let the rhythm and chant of pain and joy to keep us moving forward in a burst of light… whether we will collapse physically or not. One thing we know, as a tribe and as distinct souls we will keep streaming deeper within our own selves as well as within the greater self of consciousness.

So may we light the way to freedom as it keeps stretching out before us. May we stay in the stream of loving kindness with only a fast glance at the darkness through which we pass. May we know that we are each the MVP player of Torah, that we are always in process, and that our spark can light up a world of hope and trust. May we see how our momentum can lead to the still strength of our core song. May we connect as one with silence and victory in a solid and eternal love.