The ancient rabbis certainly understood that feeling, and they used powerful stories to explore it.

The Shir HaShirim Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Song of Songs, offers two vivid analogies to help us understand the Israelites' predicament as they stood at the edge of the Red Sea, with Pharaoh's army bearing down on them.

First, the school of Rabbi Yishmael paints a picture: Imagine a dove, desperately fleeing a hawk. It spots a crack in a rock, a potential refuge. But inside, a serpent is nesting, blocking the way. The hawk is outside, preventing retreat. What can the dove do? It begins to shriek, beating its wings wildly, hoping to attract the attention of the dovecote owner, its only hope for rescue.

That, says the Midrash, is precisely the situation the Israelites found themselves in. The sea hadn't yet parted, so they couldn't go forward. Pharaoh was fast approaching, cutting off any chance of retreat. So what did they do? They cried out to God, as Exodus 14:10 tells us: "They were very frightened and the children of Israel cried out to the Lord.” And immediately, Exodus 14:30 continues, “The Lord saved [Israel] on that day.”

But why did it have to come to this? Why did they have to be pushed to the brink?

Rabbi Yehuda, in the name of Rabbi Ḥama of the village of Teḥumin, offers another, even more unsettling analogy. A king has an only daughter, and he longs to hear her voice. So, what does he do? He gathers the entire population and then instructs his servants to attack her, like bandits! She cries out, "Father, father, save me!" The king, of course, intervenes.

This, the Midrash suggests, is similar to God's relationship with the Israelites. When they were enslaved in Egypt, they cried out, and God heard their groaning, as Exodus 2:23-24 says: “It was during those many days, and the king of Egypt died. The children of Israel sighed due to the work and they cried out…God heard their groaning." He delivered them "with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm."

But later, God wanted to hear their voices again. But they were silent. So, according to the Midrash, God hardened Pharaoh's heart, leading him to pursue them. As Exodus 14:8 tells us: “The Lord hardened the heart of Pharaoh king of Egypt, and he pursued…” This pursuit, the Midrash says, "brought Israel closer [hikriv] to repentance."

When the Israelites saw Pharaoh and his army, they cried out to God with the same cry they had cried out in Egypt. God responded, saying, "Had I not done so to you, I would not have heard your voice." It's as if God needed that desperate cry, that moment of utter helplessness, to truly connect with them. The Midrash interprets the verse from Song of Songs, “My dove, in the clefts of the rock…let me hear your voice,” not just a voice, but the voice that God had heard in Egypt.

And once God heard that cry, immediately, “The Lord saved [Israel] on that day.”

These Midrashim leave us with some difficult questions, don’t they? Do we only turn to God in moments of crisis? Does God sometimes push us to the edge to hear our true voice? And is it possible that those moments of feeling utterly trapped are actually opportunities for a deeper connection? Perhaps the very act of crying out, of acknowledging our vulnerability, is the key to unlocking divine intervention. Maybe the crevice in the rock, though terrifying, is also the place where our true voices can finally be heard.