I want to take us back to what is arguably the foundational night of the Jewish people: the night of the Exodus. The Hebrews wanted to go, they had been hoping and praying for this moment, but felt like it would never come. I imagine that some of them had more faith than others, but I doubt anyone was really ready with their bags packed by the door just waiting.

Then all of a sudden Moses comes back from Pharoah and says,”We have to go, right now.” Pharaoh has not only allowed the people to leave, he has ordered them out. Chaos ensues. The TorahRefers to the first five books of the Hebrew Bible, the Tanakh, also called the Five Books of Moses, Pentateuch or the Hebrew equivalent, Humash. This is also called the Written Torah. The term may also refer to teachings that expound on Jewish tradition. tells us there were 600,000 men of fighting age, along with everyone else, hundreds of thousands of people trying to pack their bags and leave. We know how that story goes, they left so fast they didn’t even have time for their bread to rise. I want to focus us on two smaller stories within the narrative.

The first story is about Moses.

As the Israelites arrive at the sea after leaving Egypt, Pharaoh has a change of heart. “What have we done?!,” he asks, “why did we send them away?” Bad news for the Israelites. He sets off with 600 chariots to chase them down and bring them back to Egypt.

The Israelites see the Egyptians coming. They call out to God and turn to Moses. “Have you brought us here to die?” they ask Moses. “We would have been better off back in Egypt!” In that moment, Moses had some options. He could have scolded them, he could have told them that they should have faith, obviously. He could have threatened them. He could have been terrified himself and joined in their fear. And to be fair, he may have been scared, too. But instead, Moses offers them words of hope (Exodus 14:13):

כִּ֗י אֲשֶׁ֨ר רְאִיתֶ֤ם אֶת־מִצְרַ֙יִם֙ הַיּ֔וֹם לֹ֥א תֹסִ֛פוּ לִרְאֹתָ֥ם ע֖וֹד עַד־עוֹלָֽם׃

The Egyptians who you see today you will never see again.

He sees the enemy barrelling down on them and makes a choice. He believes that things will be better and he tells the people it will be so, offering them these words of hope for a brighter future.

For me, words of hope for a bright future come articulated by my kids about the world they are working to build. I’m so lucky to have worked with Jewish teens over the last few years, and they fill me with so much hope for our future. They deserve a better world and they are working so hard to envision it. These young adults are now Jewish professionals, philanthropists, parents, community builders, musicians, and so much more. Despite these hard times in which they are becoming adults, they are out there dreaming of a better world for all of us. I am so inspired by them and it gives me so much hope that there are brighter tomorrows ahead.

Words of hope are comforting and they are foundational to whatever comes next, but alone they are not enough. Words need to be turned into action. That’s where our second story comes in.

This second story is about Miriam.

For most of the Exodus narrative, Miriam does not appear. She presumably prepares her home like everyone else, and catches up with the people on their way out. The people leave Egypt, they see the Egyptians behind them, and they spend the night crossing the sea to freedom. They find themselves alive on the other side with the Egyptians drowned in the sea. After experiencing this miracle they sing the famous Song of the Sea, where Mi Chamocha comes from. And then, something absolutely spectacular occurs (Exodus 15:20):

וַתִּקַּח מִרְיָם הַנְּבִיאָה אֲחוֹת אַהֲרֹן אֶת־הַתֹּף בְּיָדָהּ וַתֵּצֶאןָ כָל־הַנָּשִׁים אַחֲרֶיהָ בְּתֻפִּים וּבִמְחֹלֹת׃

Then Miriam the prophetess, Aaron’s sister, took a timbrel in her hand, and all the women went out after her in dance with timbrels.

That’s right. Just hours after thinking they came into this wilderness to die, they find themselves saved. They made it through the long, dark, hard night and they danced. It’s more than just that though. This isn’t just about celebrating the miracle in front of them.

When they got to the other side and began to dance, Miriam took her timbrel out of her bag. Which means, she had carried it with her.

Miriam got the same instructions as everyone else that night. Let’s go. Now. But Miriam, being who she is, took just an extra minute to do so. Just like everyone else, she doesn’t let her dough rise, but I imagine her pausing in the doorway of her home to take in everything she’s ever known for one last time. She is about to leave her home behind, everything she owns, everything she’s ever done, every version of herself she has been before. And right before she closes the door, she realizes there’s one more thing that she needs: her timbrel.

In that moment, it turns out that Miriam has two incredibly important things: her timbrel, and hope. She knew to take only what she needed, and that timbrel made the list. In the moment that she was leaving it all behind, she had hope that there would be something worth dancing for on the other side. And she was right.

Our world right now could use more hope, we could all use more hope. Miriam’s embodiment of hope was packing up her timbrel and taking it with her. What’s yours?

We must each find our own embodiment of hope. We are the inheritors of Moses and Miriam and all the generations of Hebrews and Jews who came before us; every bit of hope they embodied. Od lo avdah tikvateinu, our hope is not yet lost. We must pack in our hearts something we’re holding onto, something big or small, something that we can hold, that can hold us. Because, while it may be hard to imagine right now, there will be something worth dancing for on the other side.