Often, minor miracles of our biblical stories are overshadowed by the grandiose. This week, Shabbat Shira offers another example of this phenomenon. The "primary" miracle this week is, of course, the splitting of the Red Sea. The image of the waters parting with millions of ex-slaves dredging through the muddy sea floor will never cease to capture our collective imaginations. But it is the (seeming) minor miracle, the journey to the water that fascinates me; that liminal space between slavery and freedom that draws me into its midst this week.
B'Shallah opens with God leading the people in a roundabout way out of Egypt. With the threat of the Egyptians looming near, they needed to travel both continuously and safely.
"The Lord went before them in a pillar of cloud by day, to guide them along the way, and in a pillar of fire by night, to give them light, that they might travel day and night. The pillar of cloud by day and the pillar of fire by night did not depart from before the people." (Exodus 13:21-22)
Here is supernatural miracle number one: God making God's presence felt in the natural world with light and protection during an arduous and emotional journey. This remarkable image, though, doesn't capture the imagination of the traditional commentators in the way you would think. Instead of focusing on the supernatural, they focus on an inconsistency in the written text, namely, the unnecessary verse repetition describing the event. Why did the Torah need to tell us twice that there was a "cloud by day" and a "fire by night", they ask? Surely once would have been enough to drive the point home.
The answer, offers the Talmud in Tractate Shabbat (23b), is that the second verse was coming to teach us something specific about the true nature of this miracle.
"Rabbi Joseph said to her (his wife): What does [the addition of] "The pillar of cloud by day and the pillar of fire by night did not depart..." come to teach us? That the pillar of cloud overlapped (completed) the pillar of fire and the pillar of fire overlapped with the pillar of cloud."
In other words, there wasn't a specific moment each day in which the clouds immediately disappeared and then the fire kicked in. Before the shelter of the clouds departed, the light of the fire joined them; and before the evening fire went out, the clouds descended to partner in the transition. The "minor" miracle, therefore, was God's ability help the people recognize that the experience of the world is not black and white, so to speak. Fire can infiltrate clouds and clouds may permeate fire.
In my mind, this theoretical idea very much reflects a reality that many of us experience; crystal clear lines that separate time and space, emotion and experience hardly exist. For instance, when you leave for a journey you rarely only focus on what is before you. We are excited about the people we are going to see, and at the same time gloomy about those we leave behind. Darkness meets light, and light, darkness. For the Israelites, slavery makes way for freedom, and freedom for slavery. This piece of Talmud simply illustrates a miracle in real human experience the ability to feel comfort when two seeming opposites collide.
But do we have the ability to partner with God in shaping these critical moments? Can we add fire to clouds, as it were? Let's give context to the Talmud we learned together above. This rabbinic saying was more than just an interpretation of a verse in the Torah. It came as a response from Rabbi Joseph to his wife, who had the practice of lighting the Shabbat candles in the last permitted moment before the onset of Shabbat. By quoting this teaching, Rabbi Joseph was saying to her, "It's okay. The line between weekday and Shabbat need not be so rigid. You can add the calming light of Shabbat to the cloudy bustle of Friday afternoon. You have a say in this minor miracle of experiencing two realities."
Rabbi Joseph's teaching is based in normative Jewish practice (halakhah). We are told that concerning the holidays, time ought to be added from the regular to the holy. It is called, tosefet Shabbat, additional Shabbat time. (See Shulhan Arukh, Orach Hayyim, 160:19) If Shabbat exists, ideally, as the space that can be our freedom from the slavery and excess of the material world, why not conflate a portion of that space with the quintessential expression of delight on Shabbat, the flames of its candles.
This minor miracle, the ability to see beauty and God in liminal moments, is often quite challenging to identify and appreciate. Instead of allowing it to go unnoticed let us follow the lead of our rich heritage and become partners with God in manipulating it, when possible. Let us use our tosefet Shabbat as a paradigm.
This Shabbat, as the hectic week's journey comes to a close, ask yourself: How/when can I add light to my chaos? Maybe, start Shabbat a little early, or let it end a bit late. Or, set out a portion of time within it for appreciating the miraculous contradiction of life's emotions. Embrace the space in between, embrace God in that space, embrace life.
Shabbat Shalom