The scene unfolds like this: the Israelites are trapped between the pursuing Egyptian army and the seemingly insurmountable Red Sea. Moses, holding his staff, is their leader, their hope. But even then, whispers of doubt lingered.

The Midrash, in Shemot Rabbah 21, uses an analogy to illustrate this point. It speaks of a Roman official, a magistrate, who always carries his fasces – a bundle of rods symbolizing his office and authority. Rabbi Simon tells us the people whispered, "Were it not for the rod in his hand, he would not be respected." The king, overhearing this, decides to test the people's respect for the official himself, ordering the magistrate to go out without the rod. Anyone who doesn't greet him, the king declares, will be executed.

The Egyptians, according to this Midrash, felt similarly about Moses. They believed his power resided solely in the staff. "Moses would have been unable to do anything but for the staff," they said. "With it he struck the Nile, with it he brought all the plagues."

So, what happens at the Red Sea? God, according to the Midrash, tells Moses to cast away the staff. Why? So the Egyptians wouldn’t say, “Were it not for the staff, he would not have been able to split the sea.”

It's a powerful moment. Think about it: God is essentially saying, "I don't want them to attribute this miracle to the object. I want them to see the true source of power – Me." This explains a discrepancy we see in the text. In Exodus 14:16, God commands Moses, "Raise your staff, and extend your hand over the sea, and split it." Yet, when the actual splitting occurs in Exodus 14:21, only Moses extending his arm is mentioned. The staff is absent from the description. The Midrash is commenting on this, highlighting that the focus is on God's power, manifested through Moses, not the staff itself.

What does this mean for us today? Perhaps it’s a reminder to look beyond the outward symbols of power and authority. To recognize that true strength comes from a deeper source. To understand that sometimes, letting go of the "staff" – whatever that may represent in our own lives – is the most powerful thing we can do. It reminds us that sometimes the instrument obscures the source of the miracle. And that the miracle itself is always so much bigger than the symbol we use to represent it.