Spiritual progress is rarely linear. In life, unlike in the movies, there are no
simple “happily-ever-after” endings or instant and enduring
transformations. Instead, we take a few
hard-won steps forward, fail and fall back, and then, hopefully, regain the
lost ground and continue to forge our way, intermittently, ahead.
Nowhere is this painstaking journey more clearly portrayed
than in this week’s Torah portion, Beshallach. We experience the ecstasy of the Exodus, the
long-awaited liberation from Egyptian bondage, and the miraculous passage
through the Sea of Reeds. Then we
grumble about the food and water. Just
one chapter after the exultant Song at the Sea, we are whining to God and
Moses, “If only we had died by the hand of the Eternal in the land of Egypt,
when we ate our fill of bread.”
The Israelites shuttle wildly between fear and faith, hope
and despair, cowardice and courage.
Sometimes we do, too.
Life is like that.
Our challenge is to remember that even the failures are part
of the journey that will eventually take us toward the Promised Land. There are no shortcuts. As Torah teaches, “Now when Pharaoh let the people go, God did not lead them by way of
the Philistines, although it was nearer.”
Instead, we walk a way that frequently winds back upon itself. The path that God chooses for us leads us
into daunting obstacles that test and sometimes even turn back our progress. It is hard, confounding, and frustrating.
It is also sacred.
Rabbi Yael Levy reminds us of this in her poetic commentary,
with which I will leave you:
How do we leave the
narrow places?
The hardened hearts?
The constricted minds?
How do we go forth
from habits
From behaviors, from
beliefs
That are so old, so
ingrained,
We think this is who
we are?
The Israelites were
led the long way around—
By way of the
wilderness,
By
way of the sea,
Because it is so
difficult to leave what has been,
Even when what has been
is painful,
Even when what has
been is no longer of service,
Is no longer true.
Our ancestors stood at
the shores of the sea.
Frightened and
desperate,
They cried out.
They wanted to run, to
hide, to turn back,
But they stepped
forward
And the waters opened
And together they
walked across the sea on dry ground.
. . . And then,
moments later,
Fear
crept back.
Doubt, despair,
desperation took hold,
And the Israelites
raised their voices and cried.
Our ancestors sang
with joy and wonder
And they stumbled in
doubt, bitterness and fear.
Their journey brings
us to the edge of the sea
Again and again and
again.
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