At the ripe not so old age of כאמשים in Jerusalem, not only did I successfully incorporate עברית (Hebrew) into my lexicon of languages, I learned to live with and even laugh through the contradictions, hypocrisies, and impossibilities that are part of life. In Israel they seem to hover more startlingly on the surface in 3D; so you have to dodge them, endure them, and make yourself comfortable inside of them. Yes, I can honestly say this summer was a “bucket list” summer for me. One other item on my list while there was to experience The Red Sea, that miraculous place of astonishing crossings, partings, and transformations. So I got on the bus for the ride through the blistering Negev desert or the Wilderness as we know it (and as I saw, it truly is). Soon enough, clad in my hot pink swimsuit, I stood at the shores of the Red Sea. Then it was my turn to immerse myself and take “part” in this miracle. I looked across the waters of the Sea. On the opposite shores I could see Egypt, Saudi Arabia, and Jordan in one eyeful. Worlds away and yet so close. I stepped into the calm sparkling water … expectantly, and… OUCH! What I didn’t expect was to step onto sharp, jagged rocks. Apparently, the Red Sea is a rocky place. All I felt was the stab of rocks and the scorch of the Negev sun. Laughing at myself for over spiritualizing, I thought of one of my favorite Midrashim. Towards the end of the line of Israelites, two men, Reuven and Shimon are crossing through the sea. The thing is, they're both looking down. Apparently even though the water had drawn back from the sea creating water walls on either side, the bottom of the sea was still muddy. Reuven steps into this mud and sneers, "What is this muck? This is just like the slime pits of Egypt!" "Shimon scowls, "There’s mud all over the place! What’s the difference? Mud here, mud there. It’s all the same." They never once look up; so they never understand why those ahead of them are singing and dancing on the opposite shore. For Reuven and Shimon, that awe-inspiring miracle never even happened. Like Reuven and Shimon, I too was sort of disappointed with my Red Sea experience. I guess I thought that in that poignant place of one of God’s greatest miracles, I’d have some kind of romantic revelation about what it means to experience the mysterious essence of a REAL miracle. And the truth is … I did have a not so romantic but ever so useful revelation. Here it is. First, some miracles have painfully rocky beginnings, just like some students and some school years do. Second: As my siddur says, we have to pray as if everything depends upon God and act as if everything depends upon us. Like the little Midrashic boy, Nakhshon who walks into the sea before Moses parts it, sometimes we simply need to believe that everything will work out all right and just dive on in, remembering that miracles don't happen to us. They happen WITH us. Third: Every place we go has miraculous potential if we remember to look up and marvel at the journey. And fourth: As teachers, we are privileged to be the Moseses and Miriams for our students, leading them through the miracle of learning, parting the seas of knowledge for them, and celebrating with them when, together, we reach the other side. Blessed are you, God who performs miracles with me in this place.
So, I collected these rocks from the Red Sea to share with my teaching colleagues to remind us whenever we need it that we are in a miraculous place, doing miraculous work.