Parshat Beshalach

Movies based on biblical narratives can be a touchy subject. Some who regularly engage in the study of Tanach are attune to when the director has taken poetic license, deviating from the original, and are dissatisfied. For others, like myself, it is interesting to see what aspects of the story the director has chosen to focus on and portray in the movie. When I approach the story, I do so with years of yeshiva and day school education clouding my judgment. Is there perhaps a theme that the director has picked up on, that maybe I would not? Or maybe the director chooses to focus on a relationship that is not fully developed in the pshat of the text, that I would otherwise miss.

And irrespective of all of that, if the movie has a great musical score, I’m sold. So when my grandparent took me to see The Prince of Egypt when I was in elementary school, I loved it! I remember fondly the feeling of elation when, after Bnei Yisrael had crossed the sea, they broke out into a reprisal of the song When You Believe – exclaiming the words “Ashira la’hashem ki ga’o ga’a” – “I will sing to Hashem, for He is the most exalted!” – all of Bnei Yisrael as a single, unified chorus, incapable of not expressing their gratitude in song.

Well, at least I thought I remembered that. But I decided to watch it again, to see if my memory served me correctly. And it didn’t.

In the actual scene in the movie, there is stunned silence when the sea walls collapse over the Egyptian army. The wind howls softly, as the people stare blankly at the sea.

And then Miriam smiles. And then Aharon. And then a random man, until slowly, slowly we see that Bnei Yisrael are comprehending that their oppressors are gone, and they are free. But Moshe is still troubled. He departs from the crowd and walks back towards the sea. The audience is shown the expanse of the sea; the waves crash majestically, but calmly. And then we are shown why Moshe is troubled – across the sea, Paroh (apparently still alive), the man whom Moshe once treated like a brother, is crying, having witnessed the utter destruction of his entire army.

It is only after Tzipora reminds Moshe of the victory of his People, that the music begins.

The scene in the movie, while clearly taking liberties in its depiction of the scene from the Torah, is actually more in line with what is appropriate based on a piece of aggadeta in masechet Megilah (10b):

It would seem that it is inappropriate to break out into song, and that for Moshe to reflect in silence, as he did in the movie, would be far more appropriate. But the psukim seem to imply that Bnei Yisrael erupted into song, along with Moshe, immediately! Why would God silence the angels, but allow Moshe and Bnei Yisrael to celebrate in the light of the destruction of God’s creations?

Shirat Hayam opens, “Az yashir Moshe u’vnei Yisrael” – “at that point, Moshe and Bnei Yisrael began to sing”. Rashi (15:1), alluding to what it was that happened “at that point” that acted as a catalyst for Moshe and Bnei Yisrael to break into song, explains that when Moshe witnesses the miracle of splitting the sea, he knew in his heart that singing was appropriate. Moshe and Bnei Yisrael who experienced the miracle of God first hand, must have, as a natural response, and should have, as a basic expression of gratitude for the miracle they experienced, sang at that moment. But for the angels who had an outside perspective – who weren’t compelled by first hand experience – it was inappropriate to sing when they had the capacity to process what the Egyptians had just experienced.

The issue with this response is that it only applies to Moshe and Bnei Yisrael at that specific moment in time. But we, several thousand years later, recite that same song on a daily basis. On what grounds is it appropriate for us to sing about the destruction of God’s creation?

I submit two reflections. The first is that, perhaps, in order for it to be appropriate for us to sing Shirat Hayam on a daily basis, we should be tapping into the emotions that were present at the splitting of the sea. It is incumbent upon us, to reflect on that which we are grateful for, in order to recite Shirat Hayam with the proper emotions.

The second is that we are not angels – we are humans. We recite Shirat Hayam, but we also learn the agadeta in masechet Megila. Simply, mourning does not mitigate joy; joy does not mitigate mourning. We are expected to recognize the things in our lives that move us to gratitude, and at the same time mourn when appropriate. How quick are we to neglect the great things that we experience in our lives in light of our stresses? And how quick are we to belittle pain, with statements like “well at least you still have (insert consolation here)? Both gratitude and pain must be experienced and expressed, without being ignored.

May the sorrows of our neighbours drive us to compassion, and may we all recognize the reasons in our live to sing “Ashira laHashem ki ga’o ga’a“.

Shabbat Shalom.