Pesach feature
Forged in water
By: Rabbi Dovid Samuels
“Because it lacks its own shape and form, water, as an element, represents physicality without purpose.”
On the seventh day of Pesach, we relive the event of Krias Yam Suf, when Hashem split the sea for us as we left Egypt. While our mind’s eye paints a phenomenal picture of the entire Jewish people traveling on dry land between two walls of frozen sea, with the Egyptian army in hot pursuit, there are a few points that need to be clarified if we are to really appreciate Krias Yam Suf on a deeper level.
The first point is that, geographically, Krias Yam Suf was totally unnecessary. Hashem was going to lead us up the Eastern side of Eretz Yisroel, so that we would enter via the Jordan River. This means we never actually passed through the Yam Suf; instead, we made a U-turn and came out on the same side we went in. Without us having to get to the other side of the river, why did Hashem choose to lead us through the water in order to destroy the Egyptians? Why didn’t he rather cause their demise in the desert on dry land and save us the journey?
The second point[1] is why we’re making such a big deal out of the splitting of the sea when such an event was not so uncommon in Jewish history. We are taught that the Jordan river split for Yaakov Avinu when he placed his staff upon it.[2] Likewise, the Jordan split later on for the entire Jewish people as Yehoshua led us into Eretz Yisroel[3]. Even later in history, we are taught[4] that the river Ginai split into two to allow Rabbi Pinchas ben Yair to pass through on his journey to redeem captives. Why do we sing Hallel for Krias Yam Suf, but not for these other events?
The third point is based on perhaps one of the most well-known details of Krias Yam Suf. Chazal make an interesting observation in the verse dealing with the splitting of the sea: “Then Moshe held out his arm over the sea and Hashem drove back the sea with a strong east wind all that night and turned the sea into dry ground and the waters were split.” The verse speaks of the sea being driven back, the sea turning into dry land, but it was the waters that split. Why did the subject change from the sea, to waters? And why is the splitting of the waters mentioned after the sea being driven back and turning into dry land when surely it happened first? Chazal answer that it was not merely the sea in Egypt that split, but rather every single body of water in the entire world. This explains why there are two subjects in the verse: the sea and the other waters; and why the splitting of the waters was mentioned separately from the drying of the sea. The sea in Egypt did split for us, but there was also the splitting of the rest of the water in the world. This is truly spectacular, but as phenomenal as this miracle was, we have to wonder: what was the point? Why did Krias Yam Suf have to result in all the waters worldwide splitting?
The Maharal of Prague[5] provides us with a fascinating way to answer these questions, and in the process we will uncover a new insight into this awesome miracle. The sea represents the source of water, as it says: “All the rivers flow to the sea, and from there they return.”[6] The sea is like the heart, and the rivers are like the veins carrying the water to and from the heart. Just like when the heart gets struck, the blood in the veins is affected, so too if the source of the water gets struck, all water gets affected. It wasn’t that both the sea and the water were being split, but rather the source of water was split, naturally causing all the water to split. So the fact that all the water in the world split isn’t meant to simply highlight the quantity of the miracle, but instead it emphasises the quality of the miracle. With this we can answer our second question: What was so special about Krias Yam Suf if it wasn’t the only time rivers have split? This event was unique because it wasn’t just a single river splitting for a specific purpose, rather the essence of water itself split on that day, and that is why every single body of water split. But we still need to understand, what is the essence of water, and why did it need to split?
Moshe Rabbeinu has many names, but the one the Torah chose to emphasise was ‘Moshe’ – connoting the fact that he was drawn from the water.[7] A name, especially one given by the Torah, points to the essence of a person. How does being drawn from the water point to the essence of Moshe Rabbeinu? Here the Maharal introduces an intriguing idea surrounding the concept of water, and with this we will have an answer to our questions.
“When a person ‘shapes’ and ‘refines’ himself, he becomes defined by his higher purpose – his soul.”
Everything in the world is defined by two properties: it’s material makeup – chomer; and it’s shape or form – tzurah. For example: a potter uses a lump of clay (the chomer) and slowly fashions it into the shape of a bowl (the tzurah). On a deeper level, the chomer represents something raw and physical, whereas the tzurah represents an element of refinement and purpose. A person who is defined by his chomer is nothing more than a physical being, with physical drives. When a person ‘shapes’ and ‘refines’ himself, he develops his tzurah and becomes defined more by his higher purpose – his soul. Water by itself has no shape; it adopts the shape of whatever container in which it finds itself. Because it lacks its own shape and form, water, as an element, represents chomer without tzurah – physicality without purpose. It’s for this reason that the word ‘Mayim’ – water – starts with “Mah” – what. When something is undefined, it spurs the question: What? What is it? What is its purpose? This idea is so fundamental that we see this connection in many languages. In English: ‘water’ and ‘what?’; in French: ‘acqua’ and ‘quoi?’; in German: ‘wasser’ and ‘was?’.
The Torah refers to Moshe as being drawn out of water – as a person who has escaped physicality and has reached a higher purpose. Moshe was defined purely by his soul, not by his body and it’s physical limitations. Egypt was a land that represented the polar opposite. It was absolute chomer without any tzurah. It was a country of decadence and pleasure; unrefined physicality. Even their concept of religion was poisoned by their thirst for luxury: their worship was self-serving, their witchcraft enabled them to pursue the desires of the body. Their subjugation of the Jewish people was not just a physical oppression; it was the suppression of the soul – the war of chomer over tzurah.
To leave Mitzrayim we needed a true portrayal of tzurah. Moshe Rabbeinu would lead us out of the confines of the body, to a liberation of the soul. The exodus from Egypt meant escaping an attack on our bodies, but also an oppression of our souls. With the Ten Plagues, Hashem freed our bodies, but the full freedom of our souls happened at Krias Yam Suf. Every single Jew had to experience what Moshe Rabbeinu experienced: being drawn out of water. We had to plunge through the world of chomer and remain completely dry in the process. We needed an experience that would see the rawness and unrefined quality of physicality having no effect on us. That is why we emphasise the fact that on our journey through the water, we were on totally dry land: we became impervious to the ‘chomer-without-tzurah’ that water represents. Base physicality slipped off us like water off a duck’s back. At that moment we reached a level that even the Nevi’im couldn’t reach.[8] The essence of water within each of us had been split open, and we had escaped.
It was for this reason that Hashem took us on this journey through the Yam Suf, even though it was geographically unnecessary. To be His chosen people, He wanted us to all escape the confines of physicality that water represents. It wasn’t merely a river that He split for us, it was the concept of water itself that broke open, and we emerged changed, elevated, and refined.
“We are fundamentally people higher form and purpose – and will be able to navigate the waves of physicality while walking firmly on dry land.”
The national mikvah of Krias Yam Suf purified us as a people, and as individuals. We would be known as Ivrim – those who had passed through the sea (Ivrim = ever yam). We would be a nation that defines itself by its spiritual power, not by its physical desires. We would go on to accept and guard Hashem’s Torah at Har Sinai and continually draw strength from our experience at the Yam Suf that no matter how hard the challenges of physicality are, we are fundamentally people of tzurah – of higher form and purpose – and will be able to navigate the waves of physicality while walking firmly on dry land. We sing Hallel on the miracle of Krias Yam Suf because there is no greater praise to Hashem than living as a people who strive to develop our tzurah, be defined by our G-dly souls, and escape the prison of chomer and base physicality.
