Carrying Our Promises: Memory, Redemption, and the Journey Forward (Beshalach)
Beshalach is filled with awe and transformation. The Song of the Sea, that powerful moment of collective redemption, is not spontaneous — it comes after the journey, after the leaving, after the struggle. The plagues have already happened, Egypt is behind us, and yet, before we can cross, we have promises to keep.
One such promise is found in Exodus 13:19: “Moses took Joseph’s bones with him, for Joseph had made the Israelites swear an oath, saying, ‘God will surely take notice of you, and then you must carry my bones up with you from this place.’” This moment ties us back to the end of Genesis, where Joseph — unlike Jacob, who was buried in the ancestral tomb — was left behind in Egypt, entombed as an Egyptian noble. His brothers swore that when redemption came, they would not leave him behind.
But 400 years is a long time. Who even knew where Joseph was buried? The Talmud (Sotah 13a) tells us that one woman did: Serach bat Asher. She was among those who descended with Jacob to Egypt and, miraculously, she was still there at the Exodus. The rabbinic imagination envisions her as the living link between past and present. It was Serach who remembered where Joseph’s coffin lay hidden in the Nile, and only through her testimony could Moses fulfill the oath.
Witness matters. Memory matters.
I remember sitting with Reena Quint, a Holocaust survivor, on a journey to Israel after October 7. Reena, a great-grandmother, a storyteller, a witness to the past, sat alongside Rachel Goldberg-Polin and Jonathan Polin, whose son Hersh was among the hostages. It was day 27. Rachel had just started wearing the yellow tape on her shirt, marking the days of her son’s captivity. I sat between a witness and those becoming witnesses. The past and present blurred.
This is what it means to be a people of memory. Serach bat Asher, a bridge between centuries, bore witness so that Moses could keep his promise. Reena Quint, a living testament to history, bore witness so that we could keep ours. And now, Rachel Goldberg-Polin and others bear witness so that we do not forget those still waiting to come home.
We do not leave anyone behind.
Joseph did not live to see the Exodus, but we carried him with us. Our redemption was incomplete without him. Just as today, our redemption is incomplete until every hostage is home. The march to freedom is never simple, never without struggle. The sea does not part until we step forward. The work of justice, of liberation, of remembrance — this is our sacred task.
As we enter Shabbat Shira, the Shabbat of Song, let us remember: the song comes after the journey. The waters may be held back only barely, but we march forward, carrying our history, our people, and our promises. Until everyone is free.
May the memory of Serach bat Asher be a blessing. May the fulfillment of Joseph’s promise be our inspiration. And may we, through our witness and our deeds, bring light and healing into the world.
