The Derasha is dedicated to the memory of R’ Mordechai Rindenow (Mordechai Yisrael Tzvi ben Moshe Aharon, ztz’l), who passed away last night (Israel time). R’ Rindenow was a luminary presence in the Hebrew Academy in San Francisco from the late 70s through the 80s, a figure whose impact on students, parents, and the broader community remains an indelible part of who they are. A powerful life force, he brought a Torah of the heart and the head to everything he did. His energy, his warmth, and his humor lit up a room. He conveyed his care and his empathy so directly, he was like a Rebbe (he was a direct descendent of one of the last Chernobyler rebbes in Europe, ztz’l) in connecting all those around him to Hashem. Yehi Zichro Baruch.
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The Torah, which assumes a lifetime of the pursuit of stronger and stronger Emuna (faith), only uses the word Emuna three times. The Maharal likens this to the stages of a courtship. There is an initial encouraging encounter, followed by a demonstration that each side is ready to deliver the goods that can make this relationship work. Finally, there is a consummation that binds the couple together for life.
The second use of the word comes this week, as the Jews witness what happened at the Reed Sea. That incident, which surpasses the plagues inside Egypt, is that essential demonstration that Hashem will be there forever. The splitting of the sea, however, is only the beginning of that demonstration. As the Parasha continues, this same need for demonstration resurfaces again and again. It prepares Bnei Yisrael for the bonding that will take place at Har SInai.
I have often been gifted the fourth Aliya in this Parasha. That Aliya is special because it involves the song that was sung immediately after the sea split. It is always striking to be up there as we read what happens immediately after the song. The Jews marched from the sea onward to a Wilderness called Shur, and for the next three days they did not find water. Then they come to a place called Mara, where they could not drink the water, as the verse says, Kee Marim Hem, for they were bitter. Many commentators have pointed out that the final phrase does not definitely indicate what or who was bitter -- was it the water or the people that were bitter? Either way, it is arresting to see how quickly after the splitting of the sea a crisis erupts.
One would expect after such a dramatic and final end to their Egyptian nemesis that a certain calm would ensue. But what happens after the sea splits is anything but a honeymoon. There are, instead, four consecutive emergencies which strike at the heart of their relationship with Hashem. Bnei Yisrael, Moshe, and Hashem negotiate two instances of overwhelming thirst sandwiched around a panic over a lack of food, and then finally the attack from Amalek.
The overarching theme in this series of challenges is the continuing reassurance Bnei Yisrael will need in order to know that they can indeed rely on Hashem. What happened at the sea, to their minds, might have been at least as much a punishment for Egypt as it was a salvation for Bnei Yisrael. Perhaps Hashem was only using the Jewish people in His quest to deliver a proportionate blow to Paro and Egypt. That would be justice, but it would not be about continuing care for Bnei Yisrael.
Although the worries about water are real, the food episode strikes more deeply at the core issue of support. Nevertheless, the first panic about water sets the stage for what comes afterward in one aspect. After sweetening the water to make it potable, Hashem makes the experience into a learning encounter. There Hashem begins to teach them enough Torah to give them a taste of it. He reminds them that reassurance about His care connects to their ultimate coming together at Har Sinai.
The food episode also demonstrates not just care but also the opportunity to bond. The crisis is When the food supply that was carried from Egypt runs out, it is understandable that the people would immediately hanker after death in Egypt. At least it would not be a death from starvation. Hashem responds with a steady supply of food, evening and morning. Though the morning supply is called Mahn, it is also referred to as Lechem, or bread. This word, as a verb, means “welding” in Hebrew, not just because bread is made by bonding water and flour, but because it bonds those who share it together. In this case, it is also about the bond created with Hashem through his continuing care.
The final emergency is the attack by Amalek. This is called a Milchama, a war, a word whose root is also Lechem, or welding. Armies locked in combat often look like they are welded together, but the connotation is not as much about the armies as it is about the bond between soldiers (and the nations they represent) and Hashem in time of war.
The encounter with Amalek is a trauma, and it will continue to be one throughout history. That is why we are obligated to be vigilant about recalling it, and in prosecuting its end Bimheira B’yameinu. But the overall message of that encounter, as it was during the other crises, is that it will end, and that Hashem is with us during the encounters, harrowing as they can be, and through till the end.
