Some brief thoughts to hopefully entice further thought by the readers.

Recently I heard Rav Yair Kahn (on his weekly podcast from KMTT) note that the spiritual revelation that occurred at Yam Suf/the Sea of Reeds (mistakenly translated as Red Sea) was greater than anything experienced during all the miracles and plagues that occurred leading up to and during the exodus from Egypt.  A simple enough observation, but one that may have some profound implications in my opinion.

No doubt Rav Kahn’s observation is true.  An indication of how great the experience at the splitting of the sea was can be seen in the Torah and the words of our sages.  Early in the Song at the Sea, our ancestors say ‘This is my God and I will glorify him’.  Our sages teach that the use of the word ‘this’ was only possible because of a great and clear revelation of God’s presence, the sh’hina, experienced by all there.  ‘This’ indicates an immanent presence, one noticed by the observer.  From here, Rabi Eliezer tells us in the M’chilta that at the splitting of the sea, even an unsophisticated maidservant saw that which Y’hezkel/Ezekiel and all the other prophets never saw.  Similarly, in the g’mara in Sota, Rabi Yosi Hag’lili describes that infants at their mothers’ breasts broke off nursing to sing ‘this is my God’.

During the whole week of Pesah/Passover, the seder night is definitely the crowning glory of the entire holyday.  Yes, the week is actually bracketed by the seder at the beginning and the yom tov at the end; but how much emphasis do we really put on that last night about the crossing of the sea?  In traditional communities, there is a midnight gathering for the reading of the Song at the Sea; but would anyone really suggest that this compares to the seder at the beginning?  That last night is an important, holy experience; but it doesn’t have the lasting impact of the seder.

What is at the core of the seder?  A mitzvah.  God commanded us, first in Egypt but also for all generations, to partake of the Korban Pesah - the Passover offering.  A commandment just like any of the 613 commandments of Torah.

What is at the core of the Song at the Sea?  A great prophetic experience.  Like all the prophecies of Tanach, the Bible, this one has a great impact but no clear behavioral obligations follow it.  No clear change in our routine remains behind.

A commandment of Torah is a microunit of the eternal Torah.  Each commandment is part of the eternity of Torah in some deep way.  Torah is a constant in our lives, and a constant in its eternity.  Prophecy, on the other hand, is part of the continuum of prayer.  Confrontation with God.  A very high and holy thing; but not one which is universally relevant to all of us in equal manner; and not something which necessarily or concretely shapes our behavior.  Prophecy inspires and informs us, but its very rarity leaves it unable to give constant context, direction, and meaning to our lives.  In fact, in an interesting discussion in the g’mara in B’rachot, we see the objection raised ‘how could one leave off eternal life (Torah study) to engage in temporary life (prayer)?’

In Bava Batra our sages note that a ‘hacham/sage is preferable to a navi/prophet’.  A hacham doesn’t need a sign to verify his words.  He relies on the ‘toil of Torah’ to clarify and verify what must be.  And so, about a hacham the Torah says ‘according to the Torah they will instruct you.’  A navi, on the other hand, needs signs to support his words.  This may mean that even the prophet himself cannot be sure of his experience and its meaning without some corroboration.  The Zohar says that a hacham has Divine spirit on him at all times; and a prophet may or may not, depending on the circumstances.

The g’mara tells us that had we never sinned, we would have received only the Torah and the book of Yehoshua/Joshua.  All the books of the prophets would have been unnecessary.  Torah is our absolute necessity, while prophecy as recorded in the Tanach (distinct from the personal prophecy such as described by the Rambam) is relative.  Ultimately, of course, God saw fit for both Torah and prophecy to be a part of our historical experience.

The seder night is entirely rooted in a mitzvah, and in the attendant laws of that commandment.  Even the style of presentation on that night is that of classic Oral Torah, rabbinic learning.  In contrast, yet also completion, the last night of Pesah, the Song at the Sea, marks tremendous closeness and experience of God.  Such closeness is fleeting, something that cannot be a constant in this world; but it is a necessity nonetheless.  There is a dynamic tension and completion between the mitzvah and the n’vuah; the commandment and the prophecy.  The Song at the Sea takes us to a height that, albeit short lived, lives on in our inspiration and our longing.  It is our learning in Torah that can lead us that way again.