A couple of months ago, it was Chanukah, and we learned that the bigger miracle in the time of the Maccabees was not that the oil in the menorah lasted for eight days when it was physically only enough to last for one.
No: the bigger miracle was that someone had the courage and the faith to light it, that first day.
Now, we have just read Shirat ha-Yam, the Song at the Sea. The bigger miracle was not that the waters split open and the Israelites walked through dry-shod, nor (God forbid!) that the Egyptians drowned. The bigger miracle was that someone (Nachshon ben Aminadab, may he be remembered for good) had the courage and the faith to take that first step into the sea, before the waters parted.
I am not Nachshon. I am not a Maccabee. For better and for worse, I think about things before I do them, and if I cannot see a way that rationally leads to success, or even survival, then I choose another course of action.
But my prayer is that when someone takes that first step and the waters split, then I can be one who encourages the crowd to move together, as a group. Singing.
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