The Path to True Freedom

Parashat Beshalach is not simply about a people who left Egypt; it is something far more complicated: it is about a people who had to learn how to be free. We read earlier that Shemot begins by speaking to us about Names, that they are the beginning of redemption and the recuperation of our identity. In Beshalach, we discover why: God frees us by taking us from name to name, from station to station, because each name reveals a state of the soul—not merely a geographic location. Today, I’d like to move in a different direction, organizing ideas according to the names that will gradually be revealed throughout this parashah—names that we often overlook in a quick reading.

First, God brings us out of  Mitzraim, representing narrowness, limitation, and confinement on a mental, emotional, and spiritual level. A slave is pushed and forced, while a free human is guided. That is why the Torah tells us in 13:18: “And God led them…” God leads us, because freedom is not imposed—it is learned.

Second, shortcuts are not necessarily the best; sometimes longer processes are better, even if they last months or years. God didn’t lead them through the land of the Philistines (13:17), although it was the shortest route. According to some scholars, it took 11 days to reach Canaan via Philistia. Pelishtim (Philistia) represents invasion, division, and constant conflict, as we still see in this region today. Sometimes, shortcuts lead us back to slavery. How many people never escape slavery because they are looking for the easy way out!

Third, the Torah tells us that He led them to Yam Suf (13:18), the Sea of ​​Reeds. In the Torah, water represents chaos, as we read in Genesis 1:2, and there was something unique about the Sea of ​​Reeds: “it didn’t allow anyone to see the other shore.” If we place ourselves in that historical moment, with the enemy behind Israel, chapter 14:10 says, “they saw them approaching.” They had chaos in front of them and anxiety in their hearts.

It is during these moments of pressure that emunah (faith) and bitachon (trust) begin to flourish—qualitiesnecessary for our growth. Without these two tools, what flourishes are doubt, fear, a sense of abandonment, disbelief, complaining, reckless speech, restlessness, hopelessness, and anguish.

Fourth, we see that God led them to “attend to what was truly important.” While the people were focused on leaving with their material possessions and livestock, Moses chose to fulfill a national oath to Joseph by searching for and carrying his bones.

Why his bones? What do they represent?

Bones symbolize permanence, essence. And what essence did Joseph represent? Joseph, who was sold into slavery, chose not to become corrupt nor allow slavery to eat away at his soul. If we read his story carefully, even though he was “deprived of physical freedom,” he never behaved or lived like a slave. As a tzaddik (righteous person), he embodied faithfulness, fulfilled dreams, and kindness to the world without expecting anything in return. The question is: what am I willing to carry – riches or values?

Fifth, God leads them to Pi-Hahiroth and Baal-Tzephon (14:9) to confront the chaos. It is interesting that God commanded them to camp facing Baal-Tzephon, looking toward the sea (14:2). They camped “giving the Egyptians time to overtake them” allowing Pharaoh to think they were easy prey (14:3). Pi-Hahiroth means “the mouth of freedom,” and Migdol means “human fortress (tower) or boundary,” and Baal-Tzephon was the Egyptian god of chaos and storms, both very likely revered and feared by Israel. So why camp facing the boundary of a god who represents chaos, and facing water, which also represents chaos? Why stand between the mouth of freedom—a near-death experience—and the human fortress or boundary?

Because God wants to teach Israel that He rules over all that they fear, even over chaos. Who doesn’t fear chaos? I do. At this point of tension, complaints, fear, and the desire to return to slavery emerge. It is similar to what we experience today, where many prefer to die in the security of suffering rather than live in the uncertainty of freedom.

What does God ask of Israel? To remain silent. Moses says: “The LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still” (14:14). This silence is not passive; in fact, it is active. It is the voluntary act of silencing the inner noise—the complaints, the anxiety, and the fear. Silence allows us to hear God’s voice saying, “Why do you cry out to me? Move forward!” (14:15).

The freedom of the Torah is not dependency; it is taking responsibility before God, which prompts movement and compels us to walk. Today, in a world rife with dependency, where “Daddy government” or “Mommy NGOs” are supposed to feed you, subsidize you, house you, pay an allowance for each child, etc., it’s difficult to think that we should work and not live off others. In my country, I remember that after the war, vast amounts of aid were sent for reconstruction. It was sad to see that after only two years, many tractors and agricultural machinery were stranded in war zones, sitting idle, even though the land was fertile. When the people were asked why they weren’t producing or repairing the machinery they had received for free, they often responded, “They don’t give us money to repair them, and they don’t send mechanics.” How often do we have assets sitting dormant simply because we are waiting for someone to save us? If we were to ask God for help, He would tell us, “Fix the tractor, start it up, and get to work!”

Sixth, Yam Suf opens, fulfilling what had been symbolized since Genesis and which we never saw at the beginning in Genesis 1:4, 6, 9. The Torah says that God sent an angel to move the Pillar of Cloud and the Pillar of Fire (14:19), and that, just before dawn (14:24), at the darkest moment of the night, God created separation as He did in Genesis (14:21).

Both Israel and Egypt experienced the same manifestation, but from a different perspective. The pillar was light for Israel but darkness for Egypt. God separated light from darkness, as in Genesis, and separated the waters from dry land so that Israel could walk safely to freedom. But for the Egyptians, it says that He sowed confusion (14:24).

Pharaoh, in his pride, approaches with 600 (6 x 10 x 10) choice chariots (14:6-7), representing humanity trusting in its own power and technology, seeking to demonstrate its complete control over every situation. However, God delivered salvation in an unexpected way (14:25): by removing the chariot wheels on dry land, sowing confusion, and inflicting upon the oppressors the same pain they had inflicted on their slaves before they perished, for it says that God mistreated them. Sometimes God doesn’t save us through supernatural displays, but by causing the very things we trust in to fail.

How many wheels has He removed, and because of a pillar of cloud or because you’re running, you haven’t even noticed! Do you know what the wheels of today are? Water supply, energy, the internet, software, networks, media, and supply chains, among others.

Seventh, God allowed Israel to witness their oppressors drowned in chaos and His victory over Baal Tzephon. The god of chaos cannot prevail against the God who controls the elements. It is clear that GOD controls the sea (chaos), but He also separates (puts in order) and restores everything to its original state, as in Creation. In other words, chaos cannot overcome Him.

This generated a bubble of intense emotional fervor, which in turn provoked song, joy, and celebration in Israel. But what happens on the path to redemption? God subjects us to true trials, not to see if we pass or fail, but to draw out what lies within. Ultimately, that is what we must transform. Euphoria is not maturity; freedom must be tested.

This is why God sent the trials at Marah (15:23), which represented thirst and bitterness, possibly the bitterness of the pain they had suffered in the past. If we don’t remove bitterness from our souls, we will always be thirsty. Thirst is an external lack; bitterness is an internal lack. It says they were without water for three days, which is similar to being three days without Torah. Thirst would be similar to disconnection from the Divine, which generates bitterness, the loss of the sense of love, resentment, and distrust toward anything new.

This leads me to think that thirst reveals what is lacking, and bitterness reveals how we react. The cure for bitterness is described as an eitz (עֵץ), a tree, any tree, for it doesn’t specify its botanical origin (15:25). Do you remember our Shabbat prayer? “The Torah is a tree of life (עֵץ חַיִּים) to those who take hold of it”. It means that the Torah sweetens the waters and quenches the thirst of the soul.

This takes us to Elim (abundance), to an oasis (15:27). There, it not only quenched thirst but also brought us peace, rest, refuge, and stability. It says they arrived at the twelve springs of water, representing each tribe, each identity. The palm tree represents the Torah that is lived, because, as Psalms 92:13 says, “The righteous will flourish like a palm tree beside a cedar in the house of the LORD.” The palm tree is a shade in the desert; it bears sweet fruit, is strong, and fosters resilience because it flourishes there. It grows straight (like the righteous) and does not break easily. Did you know that a palm tree can withstand great hurricanes? Being a palm tree is equivalent to being mature. Furthermore, this maturity will reach all nations because it mentions 70 palm trees, impacting all humanity.

After this episode, it says that the entire community arrived at Sin (16:1), between Elim and Sinai… What does this represent?

It is clear that they returned to the desert and were once again confronted with lack, nakedness, and vulnerability. At this point, an immature person is subjective, does not see reality clearly, and falls into contradiction. They are caught between abundance and the Torah’s offering (manna). They desired to quell their inner anxiety.

In the Torah, meat represents immediate pleasure, bodily impulse, or consumption without process, as we saw in Esau and in Psalm 73 (my flesh and my heart faint). They sought to be served, not to nourish themselves. So, the problem was not appetite, but a lack of boundaries. Hebrew sages like Nachmanides and Rabbi Ishmael in the Midrash Mekhilta said that there is a word that describes this desire in the scriptures: “taava” (תַּאֲוָה), which is an excessive desire, an impulse that knows no limits.

So, God sent birds (quail 16:13) and bread in the morning to appease this boundless desire. We see that God sends us manna as the antidote to control desire, the impulse. Manna comes to address the dilemma: Can we live without trying to control tomorrow? It gives us responsibility (we gather it); it sets limits (we don’t consume more than our allotted portion); and it teaches bitachon, trusting that it will be available again tomorrow. So, we learn not to accumulate, not to control. Freedom is not sustained by accumulating; it is sustained by trusting and acting each day. It is also interesting that He sent birds, beings that exist between heaven and earth, as if to represent the desire that can still arise. In Hebrew, quail (שְׂלָו / slav) has its root in shalev (שָׁלֵו), which means calm, peace. So, God sends us calm and trust to restrain desire.

The parashah ends by indicating that they left Sin (representing desire) and encamped at Rephidim (17:1), and again there was a lack of water (Torah). The sages (Rashi) chose to interpret this place as רָפוּ יְדֵיהֶם(rafu yedeihem), the weakening of the hands. That is, they relaxed. By relaxing or becoming overly complacent, one also weakens spiritually. We see, for example, that when Moses’ hands grew tired, Amalek prevailed (17:11). In its place comes sinat chinam – gratuitous, senseless hatred, that is Amalek, and it occurs at Massah (trial) and Meribah (strife). When the hands weaken, the water ceases to flow; there is drought in the soul.

So, the most dangerous place for Israel wasn’t Egypt, it wasn’t Yam Suf, it was Rephidim. There were no whips, no Pharaoh, no chaos, but rather weariness of hands. In Rephidim, complaint turned into accusation, questioning God (Merivah), and faith became demands (Masah), and that’s when Amalek appeared. That’s why Beshalach doesn’t end with a miracle, but with a war, because the true battle isn’t against Egypt, it’s against whatever tries to give us a life without commitment.

I don’t know at what stage our soul may be, but surely the shortest route isn’t the safest. Will we be tested? Absolutely – the righteous are lifted up seventy times; they grow strong like a palm tree, and as the Psalms say: “I was young, and now I am old, yet I have never seen the righteous forsaken or their children begging for bread.”

Freedom is recognizing that the Eternal One will never fail us; He will always be with us, and so let us live gratefully for whatever we experience.

Shabbat Shalom

Mauricio Quintero