The Sea Before Us: Claiming Our Place in History (Beshalach)

We are in every emotional space imaginable. We move between heartbreak and hope, between despair and celebration. We saw Keith and Ofer and Yarden return alive. We rejoice, yet we struggle. Yarden is free, but his wife and two beautiful children remain missing. Aviva embraced her husband Keith for the first time in 484 days. We have witnessed the unbreakable resolve of survivors, kibbutzniks who endured unfathomable conditions and yet commit to rebuilding. And still, 79 of our beloveds remain captive.

This week’s parashah, Beshalach, meets us where we are. Since October 7th, the Torah has felt eerily prescient, as if it foresaw our pain, our uncertainty, our yearning. Beshalach tells the story of our liberation — but in the moment, our ancestors could not yet see the future. They stood at the sea, Pharaoh’s army thundering behind them, nowhere to go. That is where we are now: at the edge of freedom, the horizon before us, and yet the threat still looms.

We cry out, just as they did. In fear, in exhaustion, in desperation, we turn to our leaders, and Moshe responds: “God will fight for you; you need only be still” (Ex. 14:14). But God immediately pushes back: “Why do you cry out to Me? Tell the Israelites to go forward! And you — hold your staff high, stretch out your hand over the sea and split it…” (Ex. 14:15–16).

Liberation is not passive. It is not something that just happens. It is something we must pursue, something we must move toward, even when the path is unclear. Our ancestors did not know the sea would part. They did not know the end of their story. Neither do we.

The Midrash teaches that Moshe was prolonging his prayers, and God interrupted him: “My beloved ones are drowning, and you are praying? Now is the time to act!” (Sotah 37a). This is our task as well. We pray, yes, and fervently — but we must also move forward. We must stretch our hands toward our ancestors, letting them know we have made it this far. We must stretch our hands toward the future, ensuring that our descendants inherit a world of dignity and hope.

Liberation is ongoing. Our story is still being written. We have reclaimed Jewish dignity on Earth with the commitment to returning home as a free People and rebuilding our heartland, and the work is far from over. To be free is to fight for freedom — and not just for ourselves, but for all who are oppressed. For our 79 beloveds still held captive. For all those who remain under threat.

So we claim our place in history. We remember the hope that has burned within us for thousands of years. And we go forward, knowing that our steps — however uncertain — bring us closer to redemption.