What might they have been thinking, looking out at what, for all the world, looked like nothing but a barrier? An impossibility? They longed for freedom, yet even here, they faced a challenge more impossible than the slavery under which they had toiled all those years.
They had escaped, and yet, they were not yet on safe ground on the other side of the Sea.
Have you ever been to the beach and stood there in awe at the crashing waves? Have you ever wondered what it might be like to have to swim your way to somewhere beyond the horizon? Can you hear the ominous sound of the Jaws movie track playing in your head?
I think that's what I might've been thinking! That surely being a slave would be better than this new unknown impossible challenge before me!
And yet, this is a powerful metaphor for my life, and I did step up to the challenges, every one, that were a barrier. When the first rabbi said no to my question of affirming my Jewish soul, decades ago, I waited ten years and found another rabbi to ask. And when he said no, I waited another ten years and asked again. And when even he said no, as dismayed and discouraged as I was, I was determined not to be completely defeated. A few years later, I asked one more time, and this time, the answer was yes!
That was 17 years ago.
Then there were the impossible barriers placed between me and my call to be a Rabbi. First, I had to find a way to legally become the Jew I already knew myself to be. But even that did not clear the way for me to become a Rabbi. And the issue wasn't that I am a woman, nor is it that I am married to a woman. My wife is not a Jew, and I am old and have mobility challenges, and on it goes. Barriers. Challenges. Closed doors.
Nevertheless, I looked for options. If I couldn't go through the Sea of Reeds, perhaps there were ways around it. But the more I looked, the harder I tried to connect with local synagogues and even volunteer to teach Hebrew school, the more I was told, "We have what we need." I just did not fit into their molds. This was discouraging to say the least.
And so for a time, I gave up hope. I succumbed to the powers of the Sea of Reeds before me, finding no way to cross it, with the armies of Pharaoh in hot pursuit behind me and closing the gap.
A person who shall remain unnamed here would not take "there is no way forward" for an answer. And she wouldn't stop saying that. She already saw me as a Rabbi, and would not allow me to settle for less. She was a pain in the touchas, and she was also a channel for G!d's nudgings and whisperings telling me to keep looking, not to give up hope, and to hold fast to the cherished dream of freedom.
So I did find a way. Not an ordinary way, but then, I haven't done much in the way of ordinary my entire life. Still, I was scared. I did not have the courage to step into water that deep. At times I felt I was drowning, and would never reach the other side.
Today, I stand strong on the other side. I made it! I found my way through the ocean of obstacles. And now I see before me a wilderness, which is not as barren as it might look at first glance. I see opportunity and transformation and unexpected paths; I see wonder and beauty and connections. I have found optimism and hope, aspiration and trust, and I know that I did not get here by myself nor am I here alone.
At my ordination ceremony, I shared this:
"It's been said that it takes a village to raise a child. I can say
that it takes even more than that to raise a rabbi. As I look back, I
can see so many people and things that came before, gears that had to
line up and click into place, to bring me to this moment. It goes back
further than I can see, and there are so many shoulders I stand on
today, that I stand tall from that view. I did not get here alone.
Last
evening, my beautiful wife gave me two presents to celebrate this
occasion, and they are symbolic of my journey. She gave me an umbrella, a
purple one, and it symbolizes all the love and support and shelter that
I have received over all the years to get me here. I could not have
done any of this without a single one of the people who have loved and
supported me through this journey, through my life.
She
also gave me a children's book, a very touching story. I would like to
share now a very condensed paraphrase of that book, "What Do You Do With
A Chance?" by Kobi Yamada:
One day, I got a chance. It just seemed to show up. It acted like it knew me, as if it wanted something. 'What do you do with a chance?', I wondered.
It flittered around me. It brushed up against me. It circled me as if it wanted me to grab it. I started to reach for it, but I was unsure. I didn;t know if I had the courage. And I wasn't sure if I would ever be brave enough.
Then I thought, 'Maybe I don't have to be brave ALL the time. Maybe I just need to be brave for a little while.
I had to find out. I ran, metaphorically speaking, as hard and as fast as I could toward it.
I didn't know how to explain it, but the second I let go of my fears, I was full of excitement. It wasn't that I was no longer afraid, but now my excitement was bigger than my fear.
I was ready. I reached out and grabbed it. I held on with all my might.
So, what do you do with a chance?
You take it... because it just might be the start of something incredible.
This, today, is the start of something very incredible. I could not have begun this journey without all those who were, and are, my umbrella."
So what will you do when you are faced with the ocean before you and Pharaoh in hot pursuit behind you? I hope you will find the courage to take one step into the water. And then another. And the one more. And after that, the sea will open up and welcome you to walk across dry land, giving you safe passage to the other side.
If you get that chance, take it... because it just might be the start of something incredible!
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