TORAT HAYIM -- Living Torah
Torah Study for Reform Jews
UAHC Department of Adult Jewish Growth
Shabbat February 10, 2001 / 17 Shevat 5761
vol. 5, no. 16
B'shalach, Exodus 13:17-17:16
The Torah: A Modern Commentary pp. 478-507
Haftarah, Judges 4:4-5:31
THE VOICE WE HEAR
Jacqueline Shuchat-Marx
Three years ago, my parents commissioned a sumptuous talit for my installation. The talit displays a portion of Shirat HaYam, "Song of the Sea," Exodus 15:20: Vata-an lahem Miriam: Shiru L'Adonai ki ga-oh ga-ah, "And Miriam chanted for them: 'Sing to Adonai, for God has triumphed gloriously....'" Dad exulted that he had selected this particular verse "because Miriam was the first cantor." The love with which my parents gave me this talit is joined with the memory of my father's voice at the time. Whenever he was proud of me, he would say, "Puppilein [German for "Little Doll"], you done good."
At this writing, nearly six months have gone by since my father passed away. I constantly grope for the memory of the sound of his unique voice (think Henry Kissinger transplanted to East Tennessee), and I am blessed with the ability to play it back in my head whenever I so desire.
Parashat B'shalach depicts communication between a very patient God and an extremely fractious people. Granted, the Israelites have just started out on an onerous and uncertain journey to freedom. We witness a pattern of exchange much like that between a long-suffering parent and a child who is experiencing the "terrible twos." The child is happy when the parent lavishes him or her with grandiose displays of attention but becomes peevish when the going gets rough. For example, God leads the Israelites "in a pillar of cloud by day" and "a pillar of fire by night that" "did not depart from before the people." (Exodus 13:21-22) But upon seeing Pharaoh's army approaching in pursuit, the people turn to Moses and voice both fright and sarcasm: "Was it for want of graves in Egypt that you brought us to die in the wilderness?" (Exodus 14:11) God responds with an even more miraculous show: God parts the Sea of Reeds, allowing the Israelites to cross over on dry land, but then closes the sea just in time to prevent the Egyptians' safe passage. The Israelites then praise God with the greatest ode in the Torah. In just a matter of days, however, the Israelites begin to grumble irritably about the lack of potable water (Exodus 15:24; 17:2-3) and dearth of food (Exodus 16:3) in the desert. Each time, God sends the sought-after sustenance. The job of the Almighty appears to be an endless and thankless one.
Eventually, most children learn that while their parents supply a constant stream of gratification in the beginning, they are expected to become progressively independent and build their own lives. While our parents are always there for us to consult (even in our memories), the final decisions lie with us. Nevertheless, the voices of our parents resonate in our decisions. If they ring true, we've probably steered ourselves right.
The essence of my father's legacy is his challenge to me to find the delicate balance between making my own decisions and being open to hear the voices of others. He taught me right from wrong in a way that transcends any political or religious affiliation, although he was a committed, righteous Jew. Our kishkes have a way of telling us when we're right on and when we're way off. But it seems to me that for the past six months, my right choices are accompanied by a voice inside me that says, "Puppilein, you done good."
Questions for Discussion