B"H
Parshat Beshalach (בשלח, literally, "when he let go"), as the name implies, recounts the release of Moses and the Hebrews from enslavement. But, G-D doesn't really make the journey so easy. G-D tells Moses that, oh by the way, Pharaoh's heart will be hardened, and thus will pursue them...and that is precisely what Pharaoh does. The Egyptians amass a huge army to squander the Hebrews, who are trapped geographically between the desert (where the Egyptians reside) and the sea. The Hebrews see Pharaoh's army out in the distance, and freak out to Moses in saying, "Hey Moses, not cool. We'd rather be alive and under Egyptian rule than dead in the desert." Moses reminds his people not to worry and to wait for the salvation of G-D.
G-D instructs Moses to raise his staff across the sea to split it and thus create a passageway for the Hebrews to escape. The Egyptian army will follow. True to fact, the sea splits and the Egyptians follow the Hebrews. G-D instructs Moses finally to return the waters and drown the Egyptian army (and so, he does). Safe on the shorelines, the Hebrews praise G-D in song.
Moses and his wandering brethren find themselves in Marah (מרה), where the water is too bitter for consumption. (Marah is Hebrew for bile or bitter). Upon the complaints of the community, Moses taps G-D for suggestions. G-D sweetens the waters and tells Moses that if his people obey the commandments and statutes of G-D, they will be healed. But, alas, in the desert, there's no food or bread! The people rebel, Moses bothers G-D again, and G-D tells Moses that he is testing his people for fidelity. For six days, the skies will rain bread in the morning and the land will have quail aplenty in the evening. But, on the seventh day, they may not gather food or bread, because it is a day of rest; thus, G-D advises they take a double portion on Day Six. Some disobeyed and sought out for more food, only to find that G-D wasn't kidding. No bread. No quail. G-D expresses his frustration and disappointment to Moses that his people still aren't following the commandments. As a reminder of G-D's sustaining power, Aaron made a symbolic testimony of sorts: a jar of manna. They will eat manna for 40 years in the desert.
The portion ends with a skirmish, as the Amalekite army sought to plunder the Jews, but the children of Israel proved too powerful through Moses' prayer and Joshua's army.
This parshah holds special importance to me, as it was the first section that I really analyzed (well, beyond my Bar-Mitzvah portion). My Jewish journey has certainly not been smooth, but one of the highlights in my life was the ability to rekindle my relationship with Torah, and grapple with the text. One year ago, I gave my analysis of the song of the triumphant Jews said today in daily prayer, known commonly as Mi Khamokhah (מי כמוך, "Who is like You?"). In it, I discussed the interesting phenomenon that the second iteration of the phrase changed the letter slightly to read Mi Kamokhah, not Mi Khamokhah. The dot in the letter khaf hardens the letter to make a "K" sound. In context of the song, it is interesting to think that perhaps this change arose from the peoples' throats filling with sea water such that the softer "KH" sound is not pronounceable. Such an analysis was derived from a previous sermon I had heard on this section of Torah many years ago. But it was my first...nay, the first time I dared challenge others and state my own opinions on this text. And it represents a HUGE step in my Jewish journey. It is now my challenge is to CONTINUE my study of Torah, to find new ways of approaching this ancient work, and find new meaning in each pass. I find that this repetitive look at material from different perspectives allows me to experience life in many perspectives as well, to better connect with people around me, and to find passion in my everyday activities. It's all so hard to explain...but my one year reflection shows that I've grown immensely, conquered some great demons, and find great joy in this adventure.
This week, I continue to focus on an element close to my heart found in this week's parshah: the music.
After finally crossing the Sea and the defeat of the Egyptians, the Jews all suddenly burst out into song. No decisions on what to sing, or how to praise G-D, but it just...well...organically happens! It's a long, specific song too...not a generalized prayer of praise...how is this even possible?
I've been thinking about this concept for awhile, and I can't help but think about times when I'm not sure how the lyrics go to a song, but I can hum the tune ... or when I fudge my way through the verses so that I can sing the chorus line with gusto. Admit it, we've ALL faked knowing a song or two. In synagogue, I've noticed that some congregants who don't know the words will utter the niggun (ניגון, literally "tune"), or, many times, the entire congregation bursts out in these niggunim towards the beginning or end of prayer. A niggun is a series of syllables such as "lai-di-dai" or "na-na-na" that are sung in concert with the melody in lieu of the real lyrics. Niggunim are important in many Jewish communities, but are worthy of particular within the Chasidic movement in invoking the higher joys of prayer. That said, I find their spiritual value in my own community too, and niggunim are certainly NOT restricted to the Orthodox or Chasidic communities.
My vision of the Jews singing praises in Beshalach takes on perhaps a unique form. In many ways, I see the Jews each saying one of these lines, while the others hum or utter a niggun to the tune. Why? Because each line is so radically different from the next, despite expressing the same basic point of praising G-D. The metaphors or imagery are so immensely diverse that only a group of people, who bring different experiences to the song, could create such a piece. Furthermore, I argue that the intensity of this song is heightened in synthesizing the individual prayer, the community prayer, and the prayer of an entire people in one display of devotion. Together, these people have allowed, through their shared experience, the creation of a great song that came together in a piecemeal fashion but was supported by the entire community in the embrace and continuity of the niggun.
In many ways, the niggun brings together community over something shared...something relatable among all of its members. And in Beshalach, we find a fusion of ideas coming together in the ultimate praise of G-D perhaps accompanied by the first niggun ever recorded! In such way, the message of this section of Torah enlightens the amazing power of different people coming together with a similar idea. Each person brings a slightly different experience to the table, and with the right intentions, the whole can truly be greater than the sum of its parts.
In truth, no one utters the same syllables or even necessarily the exact same tune when uttering a niggun, but, despite the lyrics of a niggun being just short of gibberish, the intention of coming together as a community arises from the spirit of niggunim. Even in the great cacophony in nonsensical syllables, the ruach ("spirit/wind" in Hebrew) can be felt in any Jewish religious service in the utterance of these tunes. My hope is that we can all take this parshah as a decree...to come together with all the experiences we carry, find the similarities we have, and engage in dialogue that promotes tikkun olam (literally, "healing/repairing the world" in Hebrew). Each of us can learn from the essence of niggunim to make the world a better place by focusing on our similarities, our common goals, and our shared desires.
May you be blessed to discover your inner niggun, sing it loudly, and rejoice in the company of others who share your worldly passions.
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