Dear TBZ Community,
Pesach is behind us (yay chametz!). On the seventh day of Pesach, we celebrated the crossing of the sea. During our festival services, I shared a teaching from the midrash in Sotah (36b–37a), where we read the well-known story of Nachshon jumping into the water first—his action perhaps the one that opened the sea. But when we read the full passage, we see that the midrash is not only about Nachshon’s courage; it also imagines what everyone else was doing in that moment, including what Moshe was doing as well.
First, we are told that the tribes were arguing with one another:
כְּשֶׁעָמְדוּ יִשְׂרָאֵל עַל הַיָּם הָיוּ שְׁבָטִים מְנַצְּחִים זֶה עִם זֶה, זֶה אוֹמֵר: אֲנִי יוֹרֵד תְּחִלָּה לַיָּם, וְזֶה אוֹמֵר: אֲנִי יוֹרֵד תְּחִלָּה לַיָּם
“When Israel stood at the sea, the tribes were competing with one another. One said: I will go down first, and another said: I will go down first.”
Or perhaps the argument went the other way:
לֹא כָּךְ הָיָה מַעֲשֶׂה, אֶלָּא זֶה אוֹמֵר: אֵין אֲנִי יוֹרֵד תְּחִילָּה לַיָּם, וְזֶה אוֹמֵר: אֵין אֲנִי יוֹרֵד תְּחִילָּה לַיָּם
“No, this is what happened: one said, I will not go down first, and another said, I will not go down first.”
While all this arguing was happening, Nachshon ben Aminadav leapt into the sea:
קָפַץ נַחְשׁוֹן בֶּן עַמִּינָדָב וְיָרַד לַיָּם תְּחִילָּה
And at that same moment, the leader of the people, Moshe, was praying, long and slow (looks like he would have enjoyed davening at TBZ!!):
בְּאוֹתָהּ שָׁעָה הָיָה מֹשֶׁה מַאֲרִיךְ בִּתְפִלָּה
“At that moment, Moses was prolonging his prayer.”
God turns to Moshe and says:
יְדִידַיי טוֹבְעִים בַּיָּם וְאַתָּה מַאֲרִיךְ בִּתְפִלָּה לְפָנַי
“My beloved ones are drowning in the sea—and you are lengthening your prayer before Me?!”
Moshe asks: What can I do? And God answers:
דַּבֵּר אֶל בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל וְיִסָּעוּ
“Speak to the Children of Israel—and let them move forward.”
Go. Act.
This powerful midrash offers us a portrait of a moment of crisis—of dangerous waters ahead—and three different responses:
Arguing and dividing,
Jumping forward with risk and courage,
And praying, perhaps too long, perhaps not knowing what else to do.
The rabbis are clear in how they tell the story. There is a moment when prayer alone is not enough. There is a moment when we are called to lift our staff, take a step, and move forward.
As we move beyond Pesach, we begin the long journey through the wilderness, one that is uncertain, often difficult, and filled with unexpected challenges. Our tradition gives us a practice for this stretch of time: counting the Omer. Forty-nine days. One day at a time.
I find this practice grounding. Each evening, we pause, we bless, we count. Even when done quickly, even without perfect kavanah, the act itself holds meaning. It is a discipline of attention, a ritual that reminds us: we do not need to take the whole journey at once. We take it step by step.
And yet, unlike the uncertainty of the wilderness, the Omer also carries a promise. We know where we are going. There is an endpoint: Shavuot. Revelation. Arrival. The path may be long, but it is not endless.
This week we return to the weekly Torah reading with Parashat Shmini. We re-enter the book of Leviticus and the story of the inauguration of the Mishkan (the tabernacle), led by Aaron and his sons. And then, in chapter 10, we encounter the difficult and mysterious story of Nadav and Avihu, who bring an “alien fire”—אֵשׁ זָרָה—“which God had not commanded them.”
So much has been said about their sin: that they acted on their own, that they got too close, that they did not follow instruction, that they stepped outside the communal framework.
But I find myself wondering: in light of the midrash about Nachshon, what exactly made their action wrong? Were they not also acting with passion, with initiative, with a willingness to step forward?
And so I am left with a question:
How do we know which actions will split the sea before us—and which actions may ignite a fire that consumes us? How are we to discern?
And perhaps these are also the questions for our own moment, a time of so much fear and uncertainty:
What action is being asked of us right now?
In times of uncertainty and fear, what is the next step we can take?
When is stepping forward an act of courage and when is it driven by our own ego?
How do we know the difference?
I do not have clear answers. But part of our spiritual work is to live inside these questions, especially when the path forward is not fully visible.
May we find the wisdom to discern when to wait and when to act.
May we find the courage to step forward when the moment calls for it.
And may we move through this season—one day at a time—with intention, humility, and hope.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rav Claudia