The rabbis certainly grappled with it. There’s a fascinating story recounted in Tree of Souls, attributed to Rabbi Yohanan, about just this question. He challenged his students: what did the walls of the Red Sea look like? No one could quite conjure the image. So, Rabbi Yohanan offered his own vision: a window lattice, like intricate latticework holding back the water.
But then… everything changed.
Suddenly, a voice pierced the quiet of the study hall. “No, it was not like that at all!” Imagine the surprise! Everyone looks up, and there, peering through the window, is a very, very old woman.
"Who are you?" Rabbi Yohanan asks, understandably taken aback.
And the woman replies: "I am Serah bat Asher."
Now, if you know your Torah, that name carries weight. Serah bat Asher is a fascinating, almost mythical figure. She's unique in that she entered the Garden of Eden alive. But that's a different story. In this midrash, Serah claims to be an eyewitness to the Exodus itself! "I know exactly what the walls resembled," she declares. "I was there, I crossed the Red Sea."
And what does she say they looked like? Not like a window lattice at all. "They resembled shining mirrors," she says, "mirrors in which every man, woman, and child was reflected." Think about that image for a moment. Not just a wall of water, but a wall of reflections.
Serah continues, painting an even more astonishing picture: it seemed like an even greater multitude crossed there, not only those of the present, but also those of the past and future as well! The walls reflected all of Israel, past, present, and future, walking through that sea.
After Serah spoke, the story tells us, no one dared contradict her. Why would they? She was there! Her knowledge was firsthand.
This midrash is one of many where Serah bat Asher, by this point, allegedly over a thousand years old, pops up to offer definitive answers about the Exodus. "I was there," she says, and that settles it.
But why mirrors? Why shining reflections?
The Pesikta de-Rav Kahana (11:13) offers a beautiful suggestion: the water shone because of those who had "drunk deep of Torah's waters," like Moses and Aaron. Their wisdom, their connection to the divine, illuminated the very waters themselves. It’s a powerful image of how spiritual depth can transform the physical world.
What does this story tell us? Perhaps that true understanding comes not just from intellectual pursuit, like Rabbi Yohanan and his students, but also from lived experience, from witnessing history firsthand. And perhaps, too, that the Exodus wasn't just a historical event, but a reflection of something eternal within the Jewish people, a promise that extends through time.
What do you think? Did the walls shine because of the righteousness of those who walked between them? Or did the reflections mean something more? Maybe the point is that the Exodus continues to resonate, reflected in our own lives, even today.