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Miriam Packed a Tambourine in Egypt Before There Was Anything to Sing

When Miriam led the women at the Red Sea, she had a tambourine ready. She packed it in Egypt while Pharaoh's army lived and the plagues were still running.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. What It Meant to Pack a Tambourine
  2. The Women Who Prepared for the Men Who Responded
  3. Why Miriam Could Prepare When Others Could Not
  4. What Happened to Miriam After the Song
  5. The Song That Prepared Itself in Slavery

What It Meant to Pack a Tambourine

The women at the sea had tambourines. That detail sounds small. It is not small at all.

They had packed them in Egypt. Before Pharaoh agreed to release anyone. Before the last plagues had run their course. Before there was any certainty that Israel would survive the night of the tenth plague, let alone reach the other side of a sea with Pharaoh's army drowned behind them. Someone in every household had decided, in the middle of slavery and terror and the grinding uncertainty of a people whose fate was being debated between a Pharaoh and a God, to pack a musical instrument for a celebration she believed was coming.

Ginzberg's Legends of the Jews, synthesizing midrashic traditions about the Exodus, names Miriam as the organizing force behind those tambourines. She had packed hers. She had told the women to pack theirs. She had prepared the instruments for a moment that, from the outside, looked like more catastrophe was still coming. The tenth plague had not yet struck. The sea had not yet appeared before them. The army had not yet followed them. And the women were packing tambourines.

The Women Who Prepared for the Men Who Responded

Moses and the sons of Israel sang first at the sea. Then Miriam and the women answered. The sequence matters. The men had witnessed the miracle and responded to it. They saw the water divide and the army drown and they sang about what they had seen. The women had prepared for the miracle before it happened and then responded to it with instruments they had carried out of slavery on the assumption that the instruments would be needed.

The difference between responding to a miracle you have just witnessed and responding to a miracle you had prepared for in advance is the difference between faith as a reaction and faith as a decision made before the evidence arrives. The tambourines were a decision made in Egypt, in the house of slavery, before the sea was visible on the horizon. They were Miriam's theology made portable and carried into the desert on someone's back.

Why Miriam Could Prepare When Others Could Not

Miriam had been preparing for this her whole life. She had argued her father back to her mother when she was not yet six years old, which required seeing the consequences of his decision further ahead than he could see them. She had stood at the river and watched the baby in the basket and approached Pharaoh's daughter at precisely the right moment to arrange the impossible: Moses nursing from his own mother inside the palace of the man trying to kill him. She had spent decades in the wilderness walking with Israel, carrying water for the community through the merit of a life that had been directed toward this people from the moment she could speak.

When Midrash Tehillim, the collection of rabbinic interpretations on Psalms compiled across the fifth through eleventh centuries CE, considers the song at the sea, it connects it to a tradition from Isaiah: do not remember the former things, behold I am doing a new thing, this people I have formed for myself. God creates new things. The song at the sea was a new thing. But Miriam had known it was coming before it arrived, which is exactly the quality the Midrash is describing when it says God forms a people for himself. He forms them in advance of the event they will need to respond to. The tambourines were the formation made visible.

What Happened to Miriam After the Song

Miriam's story after the sea is complicated. She spoke against Moses' Cushite wife, and the tradition is careful to note that her intention was not malicious. According to Ginzberg's synthesis of the Legends of the Jews, she was concerned that Moses' dedication to prophecy had led him to neglect his marriage. She wanted to correct a situation she believed was harming her brother. She spoke about it to Aaron, not to Moses himself. She spoke privately, not publicly.

She was struck with tzara'at. Moses cried out: "Please God, heal her now." God imposed seven days of isolation outside the camp. And the entire community, all twelve tribes moving through the wilderness, stopped and waited. They did not continue without her. The Sifrei Bamidbar records this as the measure of what she had done for them. She had once waited for her baby brother in his basket at the river. Now Israel waited for her.

The Song That Prepared Itself in Slavery

The tambourine Miriam packed in Egypt was the summary statement of her character in material form. It was a small drum made for celebration, carried out of a house of slaves, across a desert, to the edge of a sea that had not yet shown any sign of dividing. It assumed that there would be something to celebrate. It assumed that the celebration would require music. It assumed that the women would need to lead the singing rather than simply stand and watch while the men sang.

All three assumptions were correct. Miriam was never wrong about what was coming, from the prediction of Moses' birth when she was five to the instruments packed before the plagues had finished. She saw ahead of the moment consistently, through decades and disasters, and what she carried into the sea crossing was the proof that she had always been watching for this particular shore.


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The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Legends of the Jews 1:71Legends of the Jews

What would your reaction be? Awestruck silence? Jubilant shouts?

Well, according to the legends, the Israelites had their answer ready and waiting at the Red Sea.

After the men finished singing their song of praise – a powerful anthem celebrating God's victory – the women, led by Miriam the prophetess, took center stage. Can you picture it? A sea of women, voices rising in harmony, accompanied by music and dancing. It’s a scene of pure, unadulterated joy.

Here's the truly fascinating part: they were prepared. The text in Legends of the Jews, as retold by Ginzberg, tells us that the Israelites had already provided themselves with timbrels (small hand drums) and flutes. They had these instruments ready and waiting! Why? Because they had perfect faith that God would perform miracles. They knew, deep in their hearts, that something extraordinary was about to happen.

It's an incredible detail, isn't it? It speaks to the unwavering belief of the Israelites, their absolute conviction that God would deliver them. They weren't just hoping for a miracle; they were expecting it. And they were ready to celebrate it with music and dance.

Then, Miriam, her voice ringing out, led the women in their song: "Let us sing unto the Lord, for strength and sublimity are His; He lords it over the lordly, and He resents presumption. He hurled Pharaoh's horses and chariots into the sea, and drowned them, because wicked Pharaoh in his presumption pursued God's people, Israel."

It's more than just a song of praise. It's a declaration of faith, a recognition of God's power, and a condemnation of Pharaoh's arrogance. It's a reminder that even the mightiest rulers are nothing compared to the divine.

So, what can we learn from this ancient scene? Perhaps it's the importance of faith, of believing in the impossible. Or maybe it's the power of music and dance to express our deepest emotions, our joy, our gratitude. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s a reminder to always be prepared for the miraculous. You never know when you might need a timbrel.

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Midrash Tehillim 149:2Midrash Tehillim

The mystics did, and they connected it directly to the Divine. how do we respond to new beginnings? With joy, with song, with dance! And according to the Midrash Tehillim, a collection of rabbinic teachings on the Book of Psalms, this mirrors something profound about our relationship with God.

The prophet Isaiah (43:18-21) tells us, "Do not remember the former things… Behold, I am doing a new thing… This people I have formed for Myself." The Holy One, blessed be He, says, in effect, "Just as I create these new things, so too should you sing a new song to Me." It's a call to renewal, to celebrate the ever-present possibility of something fresh and beautiful emerging in our lives.

So why sing with joy? Because, as it says in Psalms (104:31), "Let God rejoice in His works." We see God and rejoice, revealing ourselves to the Divine. And in turn, God sees us, reveals Himself, and rejoices! "I will rejoice in Jerusalem and delight in My people," says God in Isaiah (65:19). It’s a reciprocal relationship of joy, a divine dance of mutual delight.

This idea of a divine dance… where do we see it? Well, the Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) points us to the Exodus from Egypt. Remember when the Israelites crossed the Red Sea and were finally free? "Let them praise His name with dancing," says Micah (7:15), "as in the days of your exodus from the land of Egypt." We remember the story from Exodus (15:20) of Miriam the prophetess, leading all the women in dance and song, tambourines ringing out in joyous celebration. It wasn't just relief; it was a profound recognition of God's presence and intervention in their lives.

The Midrash Tehillim connects this very human, visceral reaction of joy and dance to something deeply spiritual. It suggests that our joy is not only a response to God's actions but also a way of connecting with the Divine, of participating in this cosmic dance of creation and renewal.

It makes you wonder, doesn't it? What "new song" are we being called to sing today? What joy can we express that will connect us more deeply to the Divine and to each other? Perhaps it’s time to pick up our own tambourines, metaphorically speaking, and join the dance.

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Legends of the Jews 4:43Legends of the Jews

The familiar telling remembers the heroic deeds of men in the Bible, but sometimes, the women – the mothers, sisters, and daughters – are the unsung heroes whose wisdom and courage shape the narrative in profound ways.

Take Miriam, for example, the sister of Moses. We know her as a prophetess, a leader, but there's a lesser-known story about her, a moment where she steps up and challenges her own father, Amram, and in doing so, reshapes the destiny of the Jewish people.

The story unfolds during a dark time: Pharaoh's decree to kill all newborn Hebrew males. Despair settles over the Israelite community. Amram, a respected leader, decides that the only way to avoid contributing to this tragedy is to separate from his wife, Yocheved. If they have no more children, no more sons will be condemned to death. It seems logical, doesn’t it? A desperate attempt at control in a world spiraling out of control.

Here's where Miriam steps in. According to Legends of the Jews, as retold by Ginzberg, Miriam confronts her father directly. "Father," she says, "thy decree is worse than Pharaoh's decree!"

Can you imagine the audacity? The courage of this young woman to challenge her father, a man of stature in the community?

Her argument is powerful, and it cuts right to the heart of the matter. Pharaoh, she explains, only aims to destroy the male children. Amram's decree, however, includes the girls as well. Pharaoh deprives the children of this life, but Amram prevents children from being born at all, depriving them of the olam haba, the world to come.

It's a brilliant and devastating critique. She further argues that while Pharaoh intends destruction, intentions don't always become reality. But Amram, a righteous man, his decrees are upheld by God. His decree, she argues, will be upheld.

Wow.

It's a moment of profound insight and moral clarity. Miriam understands the implications of her father's actions in a way that he, in his despair, has overlooked. As we find in Midrash Rabbah, the righteous are often held to a higher standard, their actions carrying greater weight.

Amram listens. He understands. And he reverses his decision. He remarries Yocheved. And, as the story goes, they conceive Moses, the very man who will lead the Israelites out of Egypt.

So, what can we take away from this story? It's a reminder that wisdom and courage can come from the most unexpected places. It's a evidence of the power of a single voice to challenge the status quo and change the course of history. And it highlights the crucial role women play in shaping the narrative of our people.

Next time you think about the Exodus story, remember Miriam. Remember her courage, her wisdom, and her unwavering commitment to life. She is a powerful reminder that even in the darkest of times, hope and change are always possible.

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Legends of the Jews 4:86Legends of the Jews

Jewish tradition certainly does, and it pulls no punches when it comes to the consequences of careless or malicious speech – especially lashon hara (לשון הרע), evil speech.

One of the most striking examples of this comes from the story of Miriam, Moses’ sister. We find it in the book of Numbers (Num. 12:1-15). Miriam, along with her brother Aaron, questioned Moses’ marriage to a Cushite woman. Now, according to Legends of the Jews, as retold by Louis Ginzberg, Miriam wasn’t driven by malice. Her intentions were actually… kind. She worried that Moses' dedication to prophecy had led him to neglect his marital duties. She wanted him to resume his conjugal life!

Here's the thing: even with good intentions, even speaking only to her brother Aaron, and even without directly confronting Moses, Miriam’s words had severe consequences. As punishment, God afflicted her with tzara'at (צרעת), a skin disease often translated as leprosy. She was banished from the Israelite camp for seven days (Num. 12:10-15). Miriam, a prophetess, a leader who helped deliver the Israelites from Egypt, suffered such a harsh punishment for what might seem like a minor transgression. Why? Because God wanted to send a message. The punishment that God brought upon Miriam was meant as a lesson of the severity with which God punishes slander.

Miriam spoke no evil of Moses in the presence of any one except her brother Aaron. She had moreover no evil motive, but a kindly intention, wishing only to induce Moses to resume his conjugal life. She did not even dare to rebuke Moses to his face, and still, even in spite of her great piety, Miriam was not spared this heavy punishment.

But did anyone learn from Miriam's ordeal? Sadly, no. Immediately after this incident, as Ginzberg goes on to recount, wicked men spread an evil report about the Promised Land. These were the spies sent to scout out Canaan. Instead of bringing back a positive report, they focused on the dangers, the giants, the seemingly insurmountable obstacles.

And what was the result? They "stirred up the whole people in rebellion against God," so that they desired rather to return to Egypt than to enter Palestine. The people grumbled and complained, losing faith in God's promise.

The punishment that God inflicted upon the spies as well as upon the people they had seduced was well deserved, for had they not been warned of slander by Miriam's example, there might still have been some excuse. In that case they might have been ignorant of the gravity of the sin of slander, but now they had no excuse to offer.

Hadn't they learned from Miriam's experience? Hadn't they seen the devastating consequences of negative speech? They had no excuse! Their words, fueled by fear and negativity, had poisoned the entire community, delaying their entry into the Promised Land for an entire generation.

So, what's the takeaway here? It's a powerful reminder that our words matter. They have the power to build up or tear down, to inspire or discourage, to heal or to harm. The story of Miriam and the spies serves as a potent warning against the dangers of lashon hara. Let's strive to use our words wisely, with kindness, and with a deep awareness of their potential impact. Because, as Jewish tradition teaches us, the tongue is a powerful weapon. And like any weapon, it must be wielded with care and responsibility.

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Sifrei Bamidbar 106:1Sifrei Bamidbar

Jewish tradition certainly has, and it teaches us profound lessons about cause and effect, especially when it comes to how we treat others.It all starts with a verse from Bamidbar (Numbers) 12:14: "And the L-rd said to Moses: Now if her father had spat in her face, etc."

The text unpacks this verse, pondering the weight of a parent's rebuke. R. Achi b. R. Yoshiyah makes a compelling argument: if a father's disapproval warrants seven days of seclusion, shouldn't a rebuke from the Almighty, who created the entire world, warrant even more? Fourteen days, perhaps? In other words, the punishment from God shouldn't exceed the "original" punishment from a human father. So, even divine chastisement results in only seven days of seclusion.

The text continues, emphasizing the active role of the Holy One, Blessed be He, in Miriam's experience. God Himself "sequestered her, and the Holy One Blessed be He declared her tamei (ritually impure), and the Holy One Blessed be He declared her clean.”

The real heart of this passage lies in the community's response. Bamidbar 12:15 states, "And the people did not journey until Miriam had been gathered in." Why this pause? The text teaches us that "with the measure that a man measures, so is he measured." This is midah k'neged midah – the principle of measure for measure.

Miriam, as a young girl, waited to see what would become of her brother Moses when he was set adrift in the Nile (Shemot 2:4). "And his sister stationed herself at a distance…" Because of her act of caring and watchful waiting, the Shechinah (Divine Presence), the Ark, the Cohanim (priests), the Levites, and the seven clouds of glory all waited for her! A beautiful illustration of how a single act of kindness can be repaid in abundance.

The passage then draws a parallel to Joseph, who was rewarded for his devotion to burying his father, Jacob. He merited taking his bones for burial, an honor acknowledged by all his brothers (Bereshit 50:7-9). Yet, even Joseph's greatness is surpassed by Moses, who merited taking Joseph’s bones out of Egypt (Shemot 13:19). And who, the text asks, is greater than Moses? Only the Holy One, Blessed be He, who personally took care of Moses' burial (Devarim 34:6).

R. Yehudah remarks that if it weren’t explicitly written in the Torah, we wouldn’t even dare to suggest such a thing! The text even pinpoints the location of Moses’ death, noting he died in the territory of Reuven but was buried in the territory of Gad.

How did his body travel those four mils (a unit of distance)? We are taught that Moses was carried in the "hand" of the Holy One, Blessed be He, accompanied by the songs of ministering angels! As Devarim 33:21 says, "For there the portion of the lawgiver (Moses) is hidden." This is not just about Moses; the text assures us that God gathers in all the righteous, as (Isaiah 58:8) proclaims, "And your righteousness shall go before you, and the glory of G-d will gather you in."

Finally, Bamidbar 12:16 tells us, "And afterwards the people journeyed from Chatzeiroth." Only after Miriam was "gathered in", after her period of seclusion ended and she was welcomed back, did the journey resume.

What does this all mean? It’s a powerful reminder that our actions have consequences, not just for ourselves, but for the entire community. It emphasizes the importance of empathy, patience, and recognizing the Divine spark in every individual. Just as the Israelites paused their journey for Miriam, we too should be mindful of those around us, ensuring that no one is left behind. It's a call to cultivate a society where kindness and compassion are the measure by which we live.

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