Commentary on Exodus 14:10-31; 15:20-21

Life from death is the central Easter message. But this theme is not sounded in the New Testament resurrection story only. Throughout the Bible, God acts to bring life out of deathly circumstances. One such moment is painted vividly in the tale of the parting of the sea, when God provides for the cornered Israelites a route of escape from certain annihilation.

This is my story; this is my song
Whether historically rooted or mythological, the miraculous parting of the sea was etched on the biblical imagination—it is referenced dozens of times in later scriptures. In fact, the poem or song found in Exodus 15 may contain some of the oldest text in the whole Hebrew Bible. While there is no way to definitively date the authorship of the song, some of its Hebrew is quite archaic in form, and its poetic structure probably goes back to a time when the memories of such events were preserved via oral tradition rather than in writing.

Other factors suggest that the song was brought to this narrative from elsewhere, as “source” material. For example, the scope of the song goes well beyond the sea-crossing event. After celebrating God’s victory at the sea, it sings of the trek through the wilderness (15:13), the conquest of the promised land (15:14–16), and ultimately the people’s procession to the “mountain of your own possession” (15:17), which was eventually identified as Jerusalem. So, even though the poem is set narratively at the shore of the sea, following the prose description of God’s rescue in Exodus 14, the song itself reflects a later theological retrospective on the entire voyage from foreign bondage to free worship in the promised land.

Who we are
The complexity around how these texts were composed and compiled should serve as a reminder to preachers that what we have in Exodus 14–15 is not a simple historical report of what we would have seen had we been there. To date, archaeological research has not supported an exodus event as told in the Bible—at least not on the scale described in the book.

Many biblical scholars (including me) agree that what we have in Exodus 14–15 is a highly shaped, theologically reimagined history, crafted for the benefit of a generation living long after the events described. It communicated a message about national identity, telling a new generation in Israel that from their very origins they were a people who had been snatched from certain death by their God and given new life.

The sea-crossing story and song can continue to have that identity-forming effect for Bible-reading congregations today. Preachers can draw upon this text to underscore the hope of new life through God’s saving intervention. Ask your congregation: What sea are we up against? What challenge seems impossible and impassable? What dangers stand in the way of our community’s flourishing? Where do we need God to bring life out of death?

This story claims that God is able to make a way where there is no way and asks us to reach out, to call out, to trust in God’s provision. Our reliance on God even in impossible situations is part of who we are as people of faith.

Preaching pitfalls
As preachers consider this text, however, a couple cautions are worth keeping in mind. I mentioned above that many biblical scholars do not see evidence for the historicity of the events described here. Rather, the point of the pericope is theological. Nevertheless, I would caution against using a sermon to rail against the historicity of this crossing, as if it is a silly fairy tale. On such matters, it is always dangerous to assume that we moderns know better than our ancestors or to chide them for believing that something as fantastical as the parting of the sea could have happened. Often, it is we moderns whose perception of the miraculous all around us is impaired by our rationalistic biases.

Nor does it help, in my opinion, to try to rescue the historicity but explain away the miracle with an appeal to some sort of natural cause, such as a freak weather phenomenon (like the wind that blew all night, 14:21) that made this little crossing point shallow enough for Israel to wade through the mud. The point of the story is that the Israelites’ escape was explicitly unnatural!

Nor is it especially helpful to dwell on the fact that the Hebrew text doesn’t actually name the “Red Sea” but rather the “Sea of Reeds” (yam suf)—which is an entirely different and smaller body of water. This is true enough, but even the Sea of Reeds was not passable without divine intervention. It was a miracle either way.

Even though we may accept that the biblical miracle of the sea-crossing is a creative, theological retelling of tradition, the foundational claim it is making is that God truly is powerful enough to control the sea. And if God is sovereign over creation in that way, God is also powerful enough to intervene meaningfully in our times of need.

What about the Egyptians?
Finally, preachers should be careful to avoid making “the Egyptians” in this story into a trope for the bad guys, a personification of evil. This story and song do engage in some schadenfreude (rejoicing over your enemy’s trauma). But is that something we really want to emulate and encourage in our congregations?

We are not the first to wrestle with this. The awful fate of the Egyptians in this story is something that has often troubled readers, even from ancient times. There are even a few reflections on this in the Talmud, preserving Jewish traditions that are almost 2000 years old. One mention of this moment comes in the context of a rabbinical commentary on the story of Esther (another biblical story with problematic celebration of the mass deaths of Israel’s enemies). The rabbis raise the question Does God rejoice in the death of the wicked? And pointing us to this story in Exodus 14, they imagine a behind-the-scenes conversation between God and the singing angels:

And Rabbi Yohanan said: Why has it been written (Exodus 14:20): “This one did not draw near to that one the whole night”? The ministering angels sought to recite a song, [but] the Holy One, Blessed Be He, said: The work of My hands is drowning in the sea, and you are reciting a song???¹

In other words, the ancient rabbis ask us to remember, as we read this story, that the Egyptians are also the work of God’s hands, bearers of the divine image. Their downfall in the story—though it is a relief to the Israelites—is nevertheless horribly tragic and worthy of lament. Preachers should keep this in mind so that we do not tacitly caricature the Egyptians in our preaching.

After all, Egyptians are with us today, a people who celebrate the ancient pharaonic dynasties as part of their ethnic heritage. A significant number of Egyptians (both in Egypt and in communities around the globe) are even fellow Christians. We should seek to honor these divine-image-bearing family members and neighbors, not use them as a kind of metaphorical trope for “the bad guys” in our preaching.

With these caveats in mind, as Christians reflect on the meaning of the resurrection of Jesus, we can be inspired by the theological witness of the ancient text, turning our attention to the one who brings life where only death seems possible. God can make a way through our own impossible, impassable seas.

Notes

1. Megillah 10b, Sefaria, accessed November 19, 2024, https://tinyurl.com/4p8ka59j.