By Sivan Rahav Meir
Even if everything President Donald Trump said this week does not happen, the thinking behind what he said is highly significant: It’s possible, if not essential, to think outside the box. To find solutions that are more creative and more ethical than anything we could have imagined. To dream big. To find in ancient Divine promises and age-old values the foundation for future progress and renewal.
Trump surprised the world when he spoke of emigration from Gaza, replacement of the Hamas regime, and withdrawal from the UN Human Rights Council and UNRWA. Trump has cast aside outdated notions of acceptable diplomacy.
The main event in this week’s Torah portion is the spitting of the Red Sea. The nation of Israel had thought that gaining its freedom was impossible, that Egypt was invincible. Even after we finally left Egypt, the Egyptians pursued us, and we found ourselves trapped; the army of the world’s greatest empire was behind us and the Red Sea was in front of us. There was no way out, all seemed lost. But then G-d caused the sea to split, we walked assuredly through it on dry land, and the Egyptians drowned when the sea closed back over them.
Our commentators entreat us to understand that reality, whether on a worldwide or personal level, can change. What our eyes see as immutable is not the final verdict. It is imperative to develop a permanent “leaving Egypt” frame of mind. It is always possible, with Hashem’s help, to break through and create a new and better reality.
May we merit to liberate ourselves from everything that enslaves us. Besorot tovot.
One of the most incredible texts I have ever encountered explores a verse from this parashah, describing the splitting of the Red Sea. Amid this extraordinary, miraculous event, the Midrash reveals a conversation between two Jews, Reuven and Shimon. As they traversed the seabed, they remarked, “In Egypt, we were immersed in mortar, and here we are still surrounded by mortar. In Egypt we had the mortar that accompanied the bricks and here at the Red Sea we have the mud caused by the splitting waters.”
Reuven questioned the difference between their past bondage and their current situation. Amidst the miracle, all he could perceive was mud and dirt; to him, mortar was mortar, this time, in a new place. His perspective was clouded, preventing him from grasping the significance of the moment. He could not see past the mud to look up and appreciate the miraculous, historic events unfolding around him.
This Midrash teaches us about the power of perspective. It is possible to live amidst wonders and yet be completely oblivious to them, failing to recognize, acknowledge, or even understand them. Our interpretation of our surroundings and experiences is profoundly subjective—we choose how we perceive the world around us. A person could have the sea split for him, yet all he does is complain about the inconvenience.
The entire country, and I think, the whole Jewish world celebrated the release of Agam Berger from captivity last week. Seeing the moving footage of Agam’s reunion with her family reminded me of various meaningful moments shared with her mother, Meirav, throughout the past year and a half:
Meeting a delegation of Jews from abroad, Meirav said, “Agam was kidnapped because she’s Jewish. Be more Jewish!”
Meirav met people at Kever Rachel, at the Kosel, and at countless tefillah events, some of which were large gatherings while others were more intimate. “I only started learning the parashah now,” she said, “and it gives me such an anchor, such a compass.”
Meirav launched an initiative for taharas hamishpacha, directly asking women (employing lots of humor, too) to pray for Agam when at the mikvah. Moving notices from her appear in mikvahs across the country, specifically mentioning the name that millions in the Jewish world said this year in prayer: Agam bas Meirav. “We need renewal. We need to go to the mikvah and come out different, all of us,” she said, exhorting women to “add purity and holiness to the world.”
Meirav came to every event wearing her shirt, like all family and friends, with Agam’s famous quote on it: “I have chosen the path of faith.” This quote from Tehillim was on Agam’s social media profile, and it became the motto of this entire struggle. “I have chosen the path of faith” — not the path of TV studios, not the path of politics.
Speaking to Nova survivors Meirav gave them comfort and encouragement. “Don’t be afraid to live, to dance, to be happy. I’m telling you this as a mother of a hostage: Don’t feel guilty! I want to see you smiling.”
On Simchat Torah 5784, exactly one year after the kidnapping, Meirav stood before a Torah scroll and, surrounded by hundreds of people, spoke from her heart. It was a moment I haven’t yet found the words to describe. Maybe in the future.
Thank you, Meirav, for reminding us about the big story and making us more connected to it.
If you’re feeling overwhelmed these days, struggling to contain your emotions, consider the coping mechanism offered by the Torah portion we read just last Shabbat; amidst the historic, dramatic narrative, we received practical tools.
One moment the plague of the firstborn is described, and all the firstborn sons in Egypt die, and the next, we are given a practical commandment—to sanctify the month. Then, Pharaoh announces that the people of Israel can leave Egypt, but in the midst of this drama, G-d commands us to don tefillin and celebrate the Sedernight in every generation.
Why does the portion that describes our exit from Egypt also contain no fewer than 20 commandments? There’s a deep and important message here. The Torah is not a fictional book or a movie. It is a Torah of life. Therefore, amidst the most intense, dramatic moments, it gives us anchors, incorporating eternal values into our routine, everyday lives. The story is engraved onto our hearts in the most practical way.
In this period too, there is a call to elevate our turbulent emotions to something tangible: commandments and good deeds. During these emotionally charged days particularly, everyone is invited to ponder what they will take upon themselves, which permanent anchors they will add to their lives. n
Translated by Yehoshua Siskin, Janine Muller Sherr
Want to read more by Sivan Rahav Meir? Google The Daily Thought or visit sivanrahavmeir.com
