Shabbat BeShalakh: the Shabbat of Song

וַיְהִ֗י בְּשַׁלַּ֣ח פַּרְעֹה֮ אֶת־הָעָם֒ וְלֹא־נָחָ֣ם אֱלֹהִ֗ים דֶּ֚רֶךְ אֶ֣רֶץ פְּלִשְׁתִּ֔ים כִּ֥י קָר֖וֹב ה֑וּא כִּ֣י ׀ אָמַ֣ר אֱלֹהִ֗ים פֶּֽן־יִנָּחֵ֥ם  הָעָ֛ם בִּרְאֹתָ֥ם מִלְחָמָ֖ה וְשָׁ֥בוּ מִצְרָֽיְמָה׃ וַיַּסֵּ֨ב אֱלֹהִ֧ים ׀ אֶת־הָעָ֛ם דֶּ֥רֶךְ הַמִּדְבָּ֖ר יַם־ס֑וּף

Now it was, when Pharaoh had sent the people free, that HaShem did not lead them by way of the land of the Philistines, though it is nearer, for HaShem said, Lest the people regret it, when they see war, and return to Egypt! So HaShem had the people go round about by way of the wilderness at the Sea of Reeds. (Ex 13.17-18)

On this Shabbat we encounter the learning – that waits for us to uncover it – in the event of our ancestors walking out of Egypt and into the unknown future. We will review some of this again when we commemorate the story in our Pesakh Seder on the evening of 14 Nisan (April 22 2024), but in our yearly study of Torah, the story is before our eyes now.

Considering an actual moment of truth at a time of so much uncertainty is to conjure up a full blown spring while the trees are still, to our eyes, fast asleep. Yet yesterday our tradition bid us observe Tu B’Shevat, a conjuring of spring in the midst of so much winter, so that we might remind ourselves that even in the midst of what seems to be complete despair, there is always a spark of hope. 

This Shabbat is dedicated to small hopes, in the form of birds. During terrible winter weather it seems that they must all succumb – they’re so small and so delicate. Yet in the worst of the ice and snow, their little feathered bodies flit about from feeder to suet. They manage to hold on, hold on, and in the morning our hearts lift to see them, still here.

Shabbat BeShalakh is dedicated to the birds because it is the Shabbat of Song, Shabbat Shirah, so called for two great songs of our people: Shirat HaYam and Shirat Devorah. Each of these songs was voiced at a moment of relief after great fear and stress (what we in our human ignorance too often define as “victory”), and each of them encourages us to do something much more like birds than like humans: live in the moment, and sing it.

We are in the middle of a difficult time. We’re not at the beginning wondering what’s ahead, and we’re not at the end giving thanks for surviving. What is behind us. We’re in the difficult middle. Shabbat comes again as it does every week, and it reminds us that there are no ends, only stopping points, until the last day of our lives arrives. The holiness of Shabbat is in our hands to fulfill, by pausing, by noticing the messages that come to us in the form of those who love us, that which bothers us and from which we need to learn, and that which flies past at random moments of song.

Just like our ancestors as they left Egypt, our path right now is not easy, nor is it clear, or straightforward. 

On this Shabbat dedicated to the birds, may we learn from their strength and their song.,May we take a moment to stop and give thanks for the gift of the resilience they teach us, and for their simple presence in our lives. After Shabbat we will once again engage with the confusions and frustrations that make our way so roundabout; on Shabbat may we take this opportunity to come together in song.