Pesach5 min read

The Red Sea Refused to Split Until Someone Walked In

Moses raised his staff and commanded the sea to part. It refused. Someone had to walk in first, past his neck, before the water moved.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. Moses at the Edge With His Staff Raised
  2. God Tells Moses to Stop Praying
  3. Nachshon and the Water at His Neck
  4. Why the Sea Split at All

Moses at the Edge With His Staff Raised

Moses stood at the edge of the sea with his staff pointing at the water, and the sea did nothing. He had done this before. The staff had turned the Nile to blood. The staff had produced frogs and brought locusts and called down fire from the sky. He commanded the waters to part, as God had instructed. The sea refused. Why should I divide myself, the sea seemed to ask. Moses replied that he was the messenger of God and had been sent to do this. The sea held its shape.

He tried again. "Behold the staff of God. Do what you have been commanded." The sea did not move. Behind them, Pharaoh's army was coming. The ground was trembling with hoofbeats. Whatever Moses did next, he needed to do it quickly.

God Tells Moses to Stop Praying

The Israelites cried out to God and God's answer surprised them. "Why are you crying out to me? Speak to the people and have them advance." The midrash read this as a rebuke. The sea was immovable not because God had changed the plan but because prayer alone was insufficient for what this moment required. Action was the mechanism. The people needed to move forward into the water, not stand at the shore calling for deliverance.

The tradition connected this moment to the old inheritance of Jacob, who had gifted his firstborn rights of priority to Joseph's son Ephraim, and by extension to all of Joseph's descendants. The tribe that moved forward into the sea without being asked would inherit something corresponding to that priority. Miracles waited for initiative, not for crying out.

Nachshon and the Water at His Neck

Nachshon ben Amminadav was prince of the tribe of Judah. He had already shown what he was made of at the Red Sea crossing, and the tradition measured his offering in the sanctuary dedication by the extra letters in his tribal contribution, an encoded reward for the extra courage he had shown in the water.

When Moses could not move the sea and the army was approaching, Nachshon walked in. He walked in past his ankles. Past his knees. Past his waist. He kept walking as the water rose. Past his chest. He was in up to his nose when the sea finally split. The water did not move because Moses commanded it. It did not move because God had promised it would. It moved when a human being demonstrated that he was willing to drown rather than turn back. The miracle was waiting for someone to make it necessary.

Why the Sea Split at All

Multiple traditions argued about the cause. The Shemot Rabbah traced it to Joseph. Jacob had endured all of his hardships with Laban solely for Joseph's sake, and every blessing that flowed from Jacob's faithfulness had Joseph's merit underneath it. The sea split because of Joseph. The same waters that had received Joseph's silver cup when it was planted in Benjamin's sack to frame him, the same river that had received Joseph's coffin when the Egyptians sank it to keep Israel in Egypt, those waters yielded to the man's merit. They had been paid in advance.

The angel Gabriel was involved as well. According to the tradition preserved in Legends of the Jews, Gabriel moved to release the full force of the sea against the Egyptians while they were still in the middle of it, wanting to drown them at once. God slowed him down. The punishment would happen, but in the correct order, in the way God had designed it, not in the way Gabriel's impatience chose. The fire that had stood in the pillar between Israel and Egypt had done its part, pushing the Egyptians back and holding space for the crossing. Gabriel's intervention was premature. The sea would do its work at the appointed moment and not before. Pharaoh was drawn into the middle by his own certainty that he had not yet lost, and then the walls fell.

PesachRed SeaExodusNachshonFaithMiracles
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From the tradition

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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.

Shemot Rabbah 21:1Shemot Rabbah

The Israelites are trapped. The sea is before them, Pharaoh's army is closing in from behind. Panic is in the air. They cry out to God, as we read in (Exodus 14:10): "The children of Israel cried out to the Lord." But then, God turns to Moses and says something that seems, well, a little strange: "Why are you crying out to Me? Speak to the children of Israel and have them set forth" (Exodus 14:15).

Wait a minute. They're in mortal danger! Shouldn't God be, you know, doing something? Why is He seemingly dismissing their cries?

Shemot Rabbah sees a deeper meaning here, connecting it to a story from the Book of Genesis – the story of Jacob and Esau. Remember how Isaac, their father, bequeathed different strengths, different inheritances, to each of his sons? "The voice is the voice of Jacob," (Genesis 27:22) tells us, while "the hands are the hands of Esau."

In this midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary), or interpretive story, Isaac bequeathed the power of the voice – the power of prayer, of heartfelt supplication – to Jacob. And to Esau, he gave the power of the hand – the power of action, of might. Esau, proud of his strength, declares in (Numbers 20:18), "You shalt not pass through me, lest with a sword I will come out against you." Jacob, on the other hand, relies on prayer, as we see in (Deuteronomy 26:7): "We cried out to the Lord, God of our fathers."

So, what does this have to do with the Israelites at the Red Sea? Well, the midrash suggests that both crying out (prayer) and setting forth (action) have their place. Both Jacob and Esau will ultimately receive their rewards, each in their own time. Esau, the one associated with the sword, will face judgment, as (Isaiah 34:5) prophesies: "As My sword has drunk its fill in the heavens; behold, it will descend upon Edom." And Jacob, the one associated with the voice, will experience joy and gladness, as (Jeremiah 33:11) promises: "The voice of gladness, the voice of joy."

The Israelites cried out, and as (Psalms 34:18) says, "They cried out and the Lord heard." God did hear their prayer. But sometimes, prayer isn't enough. Sometimes, faith requires action. God tells Moses "I hear your cries, but now is the time to move, to act, to step forward."

God wasn't ignoring their plight; He was calling them to participate in their own salvation. He was reminding them that faith isn't passive. It's not just about asking for help; it's about taking the steps, however daunting, that lead towards liberation. He was telling them that, having cried out, it was now time to act.

So, the next time you find yourself crying out in the face of overwhelming odds, remember the Israelites at the Red Sea. Remember Jacob and Esau. Prayer is vital, connection with the Divine is essential – but faith is also about taking that first step, even when you can't see the path ahead. Sometimes, the miracle happens not instead of our action, but because of it.

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Shemot Rabbah 21:6Shemot Rabbah

Immediately Moses obeyed the Holy One, blessed be He, and went to split the sea. But when he went to split the sea, it would not accept upon itself to be split. The sea said to him: Shall I be split because of you? I am greater than you, for I was created on the third day and you were created on the sixth.

When Moses heard this, he went and said to the Holy One, blessed be He: The sea does not wish to be split. What did the Holy One, blessed be He, do? He placed His right hand upon the right hand of Moses, as it is said: "Who caused His glorious arm to go at the right hand of Moses" (Isaiah 63:12). Immediately the sea saw the Holy One, blessed be He, and fled, as it is said: "The sea saw it and fled" (Psalms 114:3).

Moses said to it: Why do you flee? The sea said to him: Because of the God of Jacob, because of the fear of the Holy One, blessed be He. Immediately, when Moses raised his hand over the sea, it was split, as it is said: "And the waters were divided" (Exodus 14:21).

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Bamidbar Rabbah 13:10Bamidbar Rabbah

Sometimes, those little things hold the key to unlocking profound insights. to one such instance from Bamidbar Rabbah (Numbers Rabbah), specifically chapter 13, and see what we can uncover.

The passage focuses on the offerings of the nesi'im, the princes of the tribes, during the dedication of the Mishkan, the Tabernacle. Rabbi Pinchas ben Yair asks a fascinating question: Why is there a difference in the spelling of "his offering" (korbano) and "goats" (atudim) when describing Nachshon's offering compared to the others? In Nachshon's case, both words have an extra vav, a Hebrew letter that can also function as the vowel "o" or "u." So, vekorbano instead of just korbano, and atudim spelled with a vav. What’s the deal with that extra vav?

Rabbi Pinchas ben Yair tells us this seemingly minor addition hints at six monumental things that were introduced to the world on that very day. Six!

First, the Shechinah, the Divine Presence, came to dwell among the Israelites. As (Exodus 25:8) states: “They shall craft me a Tabernacle and I will dwell in their midst.” The Mishkan wasn't just a tent; it was a place where the connection between humanity and the Divine became tangible.

Second, it marked the formal recognition of the nesi'im, the princes themselves, as leaders.

Third, the Priestly Benediction was established. Remember Aaron raising his hands to bless the people, as described in (Leviticus 9:22)? That powerful moment of blessing became part of our tradition on this day.

Fourth, the partitioning of the camp around the Divine Presence was established. This refers to the designated areas, delineated by the sheets surrounding the Tabernacle’s courtyard, creating a sacred space that required ritual purity to enter.

Fifth, the prohibition of impromptu altars. (Deuteronomy 12:13) warns us: “Beware, lest you offer up your burnt offerings in any place that you see.” There was now a designated place for offering sacrifices, emphasizing order and sanctity.

And sixth, the descent of fire from Heaven onto the altar, as recounted in (Leviticus 9:24). A dramatic sign of divine acceptance!

So, the extra vav corresponds to these six world-altering introductions. But the story doesn’t end there.

The Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) continues by connecting Nachshon to David, who was his descendant. It suggests that a descendant of Nachshon, possessing six perfect qualities, would eventually build the foundation of the Temple. Just as we read in I (Samuel 16:18), when describing David: "Behold, I have seen a son of Yishai the Bethlehemite, one who knows to play..."

The Midrash sees in this verse allusions to David's six qualities: He knows how to ask, is a mighty warrior, knows how to answer, is a man of war in Torah study, understands matters, has a good form in halakha (Jewish law), and, crucially, "the Lord is with him," meaning the halakha aligns with his opinion. The extra vav in atudim alludes to these six blessings that David inherited.

Finally, the Midrash explains that atudim implies readiness, drawing parallels to verses like (Job 15:28) ("Which are ready to become heaps") and (Proverbs 24:27) ("And ready them for you in the field").

What's the takeaway? It's a reminder that even the smallest details can point to something much larger. That sometimes, the way something is written, the letters used, they aren't just accidents. They are clues, inviting us to dig deeper and uncover the hidden layers of meaning within our tradition. The story of Nachshon and his offering reminds us that leadership, divine connection, and readiness are intertwined. And that sometimes, all it takes is a single extra letter to unlock a world of understanding.

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Legends of the Jews 1:3Legends of the Jews

It's far more than just a tale of sibling rivalry and Egyptian intrigue. According to the Legends of the Jews, compiled by Rabbi Louis Ginzberg, Jacob endured the hardships of his time with Laban solely for Joseph's sake.

The text goes on to say that Jacob's blessing – a full quiver of children – stemmed from Joseph’s merits. And get this: the splitting of the Red Sea and the Jordan River for the Israelites? That, too, was a reward for Joseph's piety. It sounds unbelievable, but that's how powerful his legacy was considered.

Why this special status? Well, Joseph physically resembled his father more than any of his brothers. More importantly, Jacob passed down to Joseph the wisdom he'd received from his teachers, Shem and Eber – figures reaching all the way back to the earliest generations after the Flood.

What’s really fascinating is how Joseph’s life mirrors Jacob’s in so many ways. Ginzberg paints them as echoes of one another. Jacob’s mother, Rebekah, struggled to conceive for a long time, and so did Joseph’s mother, Rachel. Rebekah had a difficult childbirth with Jacob; Rachel did with Joseph. Both mothers bore two sons. And in a rather unusual detail, both Jacob and Joseph were said to be born circumcised.

The parallels continue! Jacob was a shepherd, and so was Joseph. Jacob served for a woman – remember his years working for Laban for Rachel and Leah? – and Joseph served under a woman, Potiphar’s wife (though under very different circumstances, of course!).

Both Jacob and Joseph, in a sense, usurped their older brother’s birthright. Both were hated by their brothers, and were their father's favorite. Both lived in a foreign land. Both became servants to a master. The master whom each served was blessed because of them. Angels accompanied both. Both married outside the Holy Land.

The blessings didn’t stop there. Both father and son were blessed with wealth. Great things were revealed to them in dreams. As Jacob went to Egypt and ended a famine, so did Joseph. The Zohar, the central text of Kabbalah (Jewish mysticism), even explores the mystical significance of Joseph's dreams and their connection to the divine plan.

And even in death, the mirroring continues. Both father and son exacted a promise from their sons to bury them in the Holy Land. Both died in Egypt, and both were embalmed. Their remains were carried back to the land of Israel for burial.

There's a final, poignant symmetry: Jacob provided for Joseph for seventeen years, and Joseph, in turn, provided for Jacob for seventeen years. A beautiful, balanced exchange between father and son.

So, what are we to make of all this? Is it simply a literary device to emphasize Joseph’s importance? Or is it suggesting something deeper – a cyclical pattern of destiny, perhaps? Maybe the stories of our ancestors aren’t just tales of the past, but blueprints for our own lives, echoing through time. It certainly gives you something to think about, doesn't it?

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Legends of the Jews 1:31Legends of the Jews

The ancient stories of the Exodus are filled with moments like these, moments where divine intervention shapes the course of history.

Take the story of the parting of the Red Sea. The familiar version gives us the basics: the Israelites are trapped between the pursuing Egyptian army and the vast, unforgiving sea. Despair must have been overwhelming. But according to the Legends of the Jews, as retold by Rabbi Louis Ginzberg, the story goes deeper than just a miraculous split in the waters. It wasn't just a passive act of God; it was a carefully orchestrated, almost conversational intervention by the angel GABRIEL himself.

The scene: Gabriel, eager to unleash the full force of the sea upon the Egyptians, is held back by God. Why? Because God wants to wait until the morning watch, the very hour ABRAHAM would have been preparing to sacrifice his son ISAAC. The timing matters. Everything matters.

Gabriel isn't just standing idly by. He's actively shaping the miracle, holding back the raging waters that threaten to engulf both the Egyptians and the Israelites. And here's where it gets really interesting. He speaks to the walls of water. He doesn't just push them aside; he admonishes them. He calls out to the wall of water on the right, "Beware of Israel, who will receive the law in time to come from the right hand of the Lord." The right hand, a symbol of strength and blessing. He then turns to the wall on the left, warning it to "Beware of Israel, who will wind the phylacteries about their left hand in time to come." Phylacteries, or tefillin in Hebrew, are those small leather boxes containing scriptural passages, a physical reminder of our connection to God.

And he doesn't stop there. To the water behind them, he cautions, "Beware of Israel, who will let the Zizit drop down upon their back in time to come." The Zizit, the fringes on the corners of a prayer shawl, a visual symbol of the commandments. And finally, to the towering wall of water in front, he declares, "Beware of Israel, who bear the sign of the covenant upon their bodies." This, of course, is a reference to brit milah, circumcision, the physical mark of the covenant between God and the Jewish people.

What's the message here? It’s more than just a miracle. It’s a recognition of the future relationship between God and Israel, a relationship built on law, tradition, and covenant. Gabriel isn’t just parting the sea; he’s acknowledging the destiny of the Israelites, their commitment to a life of meaning and purpose.

So, the next time you face an overwhelming obstacle, remember the story of the Red Sea. Remember that even in the face of seemingly insurmountable challenges, there might be unseen forces working on your behalf. And remember the power of covenant, the enduring strength of tradition, and the unwavering promise of a future filled with meaning.

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Shemot Rabbah 21:11Shemot Rabbah

There's a fascinating, and perhaps unsettling, perspective offered in Shemot Rabbah, a compilation of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Exodus, that uses a surprising analogy to explore this very question. It centers on Pharaoh, the ultimate antagonist of the Exodus story.

Remember the verse: "I will harden Pharaoh's heart, and he will pursue them; and I will be glorified through Pharaoh, and through his entire host, and the Egyptians will know that I am the Lord, and so they did” (Exodus 14:4). God hardened his heart? It’s a tough pill to swallow, isn’t it?

Rabbi Shimon ben Lakish offers a striking image to unpack this. Picture two wrestlers. One is strong, a powerhouse. The other? Weak, easily overpowered. The strong wrestler triumphs, and a crown is placed upon his head. Now, here’s the kicker: who, Rabbi Shimon ben Lakish asks, caused the strong wrestler to receive that crown? Was it not the weak one, the one he defeated?

He then connects this directly to the story of Exodus. Who, he asks, caused the Holy One, blessed be He, to receive such immense praise and glory? Was it not Pharaoh, whom God "tossed. in the Red Sea" (Psalms 136:15)? That's why God says, "I will be glorified through Pharaoh." It’s a mind-bending idea. That even the actions of the wicked can ultimately serve a divine purpose, bringing glory to God. It's not condoning evil, but rather recognizing that even within the darkness, there's a potential for light to emerge.

This perspective also highlights the idea that God's power is most clearly revealed when it overcomes the greatest obstacles. The bigger the challenge, the more impressive the victory.: the Exodus wouldn't be the defining moment of Jewish history if Pharaoh had just let the Israelites go without a fight. The very resistance, the very hardness of his heart, amplifies the magnitude of God's intervention.

The text then pivots to another intriguing detail: "He removed the wheels of their chariot, and caused them to drive with difficulty. Egypt said: ‘Let us flee from before Israel, as the Lord is fighting for them against Egypt’” (Exodus 14:25). But notice something peculiar. The text doesn't say "the Egyptians." It says "Egypt." What’s up with that?

Shemot Rabbah offers a fascinating explanation. God, in a way, elevated the land of Egypt, allowing it to witness the unfolding drama at the sea. "Egypt said: ‘Let us flee from before Israel.'" The land itself, personified, recognized the divine power at play.

It's a reminder that even inanimate objects, even the very earth beneath our feet, can bear witness to the unfolding of history and the manifestation of the divine.

So, what does all this mean for us? Perhaps it's an invitation to look beyond the surface of events, especially the difficult ones. To consider that even in the face of adversity, even in the actions of those who seem opposed to good, there might be a larger purpose at play. It’s a challenging thought, a difficult truth to confront. But maybe, just maybe, it offers a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos. Maybe the "Pharaohs" in our own lives, the obstacles we face, can ultimately contribute to a greater understanding of ourselves and the divine. What do you think?

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