We have just come out of the kedushah of Shevi’i shel Pesach, the last day of Pesach.
But this year felt different.
As we entered the Chag (festival) on Tuesday night, it was not with quiet menuchah, but with the piercing sound of sirens, the distant thunder of missiles, and the hurried rush to protected spaces. Families sat at their Yom Tov tables with hearts carrying not only gratitude, but also pachad-a sense of uncertainty, of vulnerability. The tefillot felt slower, deeper, more real.
And now, as we step out of the Chag, the world speaks about a ceasefire-and at its center, the reopening of one of the most vital waterways on earth: the Straits of Hormuz.
Is it complete? Will it last? Is it the yeshuah (salvation) we are hoping for?
We don’t know.
But for a ma’amin, a person of faith, there are no questions.
And for one who does not believe, there are no answers.
At this very time, thousands of years ago, our ancestors stood at the edge of the Red Sea, Yam Suf-trapped, surrounded, with nowhere to turn. Behind them was Mitzrayim (Egypt) in full force. Before them, a sea that could not be crossed.
And on that very night-the night of Shevi’i shel Pesach-everything changed.
The waters split.
What had always been a barrier became a path. What looked like the end became the beginning. And Klal Yisrael moved forward-not because they understood, but because they trusted.
And the Egyptians? The Torah tells us that Hashem hardened their hearts. They rushed forward into those same waters, unable to see that what appeared to be a path would become their downfall.
When it was over, when the waves crashed back and the danger passed, the Torah tells us: Vaya’aminu baHashem u’vMoshe avdo-they believed in Hashem and in Moshe, His servant.
A moment of clarity.
A moment of emunah.
And now, once again, we find ourselves living through a time when the waters of the world stand at the center of events.
Then, it was the Yam Suf.
Today, it is the Straits of Hormuz.
Then, the waters became the undoing of a mighty empire.
Today, the waters have become a kli-a channel through which a dangerous power is being weakened and held back.
Then, Hashem led the enemy forward into a path that would undo them.
And now, we watch developments that are not always easy to understand-as if a deeper hashgachah (Providence) is quietly guiding events exactly where they need to go.
There is, of course, a difference.
At the Yam Suf, the miracle was open-galui, impossible to miss. Moshe Rabbeinu lifted his staff, and the Yad Hashem was clear for all to see.
Today, the world speaks a different language-of strength, strategy, and politics. Nations act. Leaders decide.
But a ma’amin knows.
That behind everything, there is only one true power, koach.
Every missile that does not land.
Every life that is spared.
Every turn that brings protection-
It is all from the Ribbono Shel Olam.
Our hishtadlut (effort) matters-but it is only a kli.
The outcome is His.
And perhaps this is the nisayon of our time.
At the sea, it was impossible not to see.
Today, it is all too easy to miss.
Ein ba’al hanes makir b’niso.
A person living through a miracle does not always recognize it.
But in these great days, yamim gedolim, it is hard not to pause and think, to feel that we are living through moments that will one day be remembered-moments in which, quietly but clearly, the Yad Hashem is present.
We are in Chodesh Nisan-the month of miracles, nissim.
The month when teva bends.
The month when geulah begins.
We have seen fear-and we have seen protection.
We have seen danger-and we have seen yeshuah.
And perhaps, just perhaps, we are beginning to hear again the echo of that ancient song, Shirah-soft at first, but slowly growing, rising from within the very fabric of our lives.
May it be the Will of Hashem that these are not passing moments, but the beginning of something much greater.
That from the Son of the Sea, Shirat HaYam, we will soon be zocheh to the ultimate New Song, Shirah Chadashah-with the coming of Moshiach, bimheirah b’yameinu.
And may we all be zocheh to a gezunteh zomer-a healthy, peaceful, and joyful summer, filled with brachah, hatzlachah, and all the good we wish for ourselves and for all of Klal Yisrael.