Little Michael comes home from cheder one day, and his father asks the traditional question, “So, what did you learn in Hebrew school today?” Instead of answering with the usual “not much,” the boy replies that “it was fascinating.”
“Dad, what a story! The Jews left Egypt, but then Pharaoh and the Egyptians came after them, and they were about to catch them at the sea,” he recounts.
So, he says, “Moses called for the Israeli engineers to quickly put up a pontoon bridge so the Israelites could cross over the sea. Then, as the Jews got across safely and the Egyptian forces were trying to use the same bridge to get across, Moses called for the Air Force to bomb the bridge, and the Egyptians drowned in the sea.”
His incredulous father asks, “Is that what your teacher taught you?”
The boy says, “Well, not exactly, Dad. But if I told you his version of the story, you’d never believe it.”
It may be an old joke, but the original story is more than 3,000 years old—and Jews do believe it. In fact, they will be reading the story of the miraculous splitting of the sea in synagogue on Wednesday morning, April 8. The seventh day of Passover is the anniversary of this great miracle—arguably the greatest in history—and is therefore commemorated in synagogues around the world.
But why did God have to save the Israelites by parting the waters? Surely, He had an infinite number of other possible methods and scenarios by which to save the Jews. He could have created an earthquake, fire and brimstone from heaven, nerve gas or even cruise missiles! Why, davka, walking through water?
The Talmud states that “whatever is in the sea is also on dry land” (Chulin 127a). But there is a big difference between land and sea creatures.
Land creatures are mobile, not rooted to one place. They can walk, run and wander around from place to place as their heart or appetite sees fit. Sea creatures, on the other hand, may swim around, but they can never leave the ocean. Their very lives depend on being in the water. A casual expedition on dry land would spell their end very quickly.
For sea creatures, water is not only life-supportive but life itself.
Before the Jews could arrive at Mount Sinai to receive the Torah, they needed to learn two very important lessons. Lesson No. 1 was what the Exodus demonstrated very clearly: God alone is our Redeemer. But lesson No. 2 went further: God is not only our Redeemer, our “knight in shining armor,” but much more. He is nothing less than life itself.
Without God and Torah, we are nothing more than “fish out of water.” Without the Torah, we have no life, no existence, no purpose and no future. We would have simply wandered around the wilderness “all dressed up and nowhere to go.”
For a Jew, the Torah is not only a book of wisdom, good advice for life or sage counsel on living the good life. It is life itself—to the point that without it, life is simply not worth living.
There are several practical halachic principles that establish this idea. “Whoever teaches his friend’s son Torah is as if he himself bore him,” (Sanhedrin 19b). If Torah is life, then teaching someone Torah is giving him life. The teacher becomes like his father. And the halachah thus rules that in a number of instances, the student is obligated to honor his teacher even more than his own biological father.
Then comes the halachic principle that three cardinal sins exist for which a person should rather give up his or her life than violate. Although we love life and view life as sacred—and in order to save a life, we are obligated to transgress Torah law—there are nevertheless three extraordinary exceptions to this rule.
While we must violate Shabbat or Yom Kippur to save a life, when it comes to the three “cardinal sins,” we must rather give up our lives than transgress Idolatry, murder or sexual immorality. Should someone force us at gunpoint to violate any of these three sins, we should not do so and be prepared to die. Why? One reason is that these three sins are considered so grave that it is simply not worth living having violated them.
The message that a Jew’s connection to God and His way of life is like the sea creatures’ relationship with water is one insight into why God chose to split the sea, rather than save the Israelites through other means. It was crucially imperative for the Jews to understand that they are like creatures of the sea, and that their relationship and dependence on God and Torah is the very same as a fish and water.
Indeed, we know this—if not intellectually or emotionally, then spiritually.
How else can we explain the seemingly irrational feelings of a non-observant Jew who is suddenly drawn to Judaism and to practice mitzvot? How can we understand the anguish felt by Jewish parents when they learn that their child is dating a non-Jew? (And that a son or daughter is shocked that it’s even an issue.) Why, he never showed any interest in Judaism. She never practiced anything religious at home. Why is it suddenly an issue?
The answer is because whether he observed it outwardly or not, it’s in his kishkes. His Jewishness is in his gut. And when the inner identity of his child is in danger of slipping away, it hurts. So the father’s neshama, his core Jewish identity, reacts.
Why? Because deep down it is part of his very essence, part of his life, whether he lived by it or not. When it comes to the crunch, the feelings and the sensitivities are still there.
May we see our own sea of life split before us. And may we come to realize how innately connected we are to our soul, our essence and our eternal source of life.
