![]() It is an interesting question as to how much our theology and understanding of scripture has been formed by visual artists and film-makers and how much is grounded in either historical reality or the mythological or liturgical understandings that the original authors were seeking to convey. How much has our theology of heaven and hell been formed by the visual images embedded by the likes of Milton and Dante? Or how much has our understanding of bible history been coloured by Cecile B. DeMille? Today, Dr Elmer gives us insight into some of the more recent scholarship into that iconic story seared in the Christian and Jewish imagination — The Parting of the Sea told in Exodus. The Crossing of the Sea (Exodus 13:17-14:31) It is one of the most memorable scenes in the Hebrew Scriptures; the stuff of legends; fodder for big budget "Sword and Sandal" flicks. I am speaking of the story of the "Crossing of the Sea" found in Exodus 13:17-14:31, which tells of the escape of Moses and Israelites before the pursuing Egyptians via a miraculous "parting" of the sea. Like most of the biblical stories surrounding the foundational Exodus-event, the account of the Crossing of Sea is replete with various layers of tradition and many fantastic elements. But some of these extraordinary aspects owe more to later imagination than they do to either genuine historical reminiscence or the text itself.
Most of us probably think of this event in terms of the memorable scene in Cecil B. DeMille's epic movie, The Ten Commandments (1956). Held back by a pillar of fire, the Egyptian forces can only watch as a burley Moses, played by Chalton Heston, parts the waters to provide his people an escape route. As the Israelites race over the seabed, the pillar of fire dies down and the army rides in hot pursuit. The Israelites make it to the far shore just in time to witness God's closing of the waters on the Egyptian army, drowning every man and horse. The Pharaoh Rameses, played by Yul Brenner, looks on in despair. But is this a true representation of the story? Two Traditions... A close examination of Exodus 13:17-14:31 reveals at least two separate traditions that seem to contribute conflicting accounts of the event (Charpentier, 2005: 33). In the earliest of these traditions it seems that the event was not a matter of crossing "through" the sea; the strong wind bowing during the night dries up the waters (Ex 14:21b) and the Egyptians get bogged down in the remaining mud (Ex 14:25) to the amazement of the Israelites. It is only in the much later account that God divides the waters and makes dry land appear (Ex 14:21c-23). In this version of the story, the Egyptians are utterly destroyed by the returning waters (Ex 14:28). In this tradition, the story is told as military encounter between the Israelite God and the deified pharaoh. The earlier version s more in the nature of a fortuitous escape facilitated by extraordinary natural events — strong winds, exceptionally low tides and clogging mud (Boadt, 1984). In the later additions to the story, the Crossing of Sea is framed in such a way as to echo the first creation story in Genesis 1:1-2:4, which was written by the same authors. Just as YHWH divided the primordial waters to bring forth dry land (Gen 1:6-7), YHWH divides the Sea before Moses and the Israelites to reveal a corridor of dry land along which they may flee from the advancing Egyptian forces. In this way, Exodus is presented as an act of creation, and creation is presented as an act of liberation (Charpentier, 2005: 33). Both stories imply the might and power of YHWH in subduing foreign gods — the Babylonian mother goddess Tiamet, who represented the primordial sea; and the Egyptian man/god Pharaoh. Which Sea Did They Cross? The remarkable thing is that the later editors who have reframed the story to suit their theological perspective seem unaware of the contradictions created by the addition of the more fantastic elements of dividing walls of water. For example, any sea shallow enough to be dried up by an east wind and shifting tides, as the original version of the story has it, would not be sufficient to drown the Egyptians or to make walls of water. Pursuing this line of thought further, it is difficult to devise any natural scenario to account for the facts reported by the text. This wind would not be the same as the khamsin (sirocco) that was earlier associated with the ninth plague (Ex 10:13) bringing locusts into the Egyptian crops. The sirocco is a phenomenon drawn by a strong low-pressure system in North Africa, usually accompanied by thermal inversion. The east wind referred to the Crossing of the Sea drives out of a high-pressure system over Mesopotamia and—opposite to a tornado, which rotates around a low-pressure system—features a sharp rise in barometric pressure (Matthews, Chavalas &Walton, 2000). An even more perplexing question is the identity of the so-called "sea" at issue. The body of water referred to in many English translations as the "Red Sea"; which certainly how Cecil B. DeMille interpreted it. By contrast, the original Hebrew term used is Yam Suph (Ex 13:18; 15:4) is best translated the "Sea of Reeds" — a title that can be used for a number of different bodies of water. However, the implication of the term Yam Suph is that of a marshland; and the earliest aspects of the story seem to imply that Israelites escape was through boggy swamplands that were rendered passable by a strong wind driving water this way and that (Woods, 2003: 41).
The reeds it refers to are probably papyrus, which used to proliferate along the marshy section that extended from the Gulf of Suez to the Mediterranean, now largely obliterated by the Suez Canal. Such reeds grow only in fresh water. Proceeding north from the Gulf of Suez, one would have encountered the Bitter Lakes, Lake Timsah, Lake Balah and finally, right by the Mediterranean, Lake Menzaleh. The Wadi Tumilat through which Israel appears to be traveling (Ex 13:2) would have led to Lake Timsah, so that is often identified as the Sea of Reeds in this context, though each of the other lakes has its supporters (Matthews, Chavalas &Walton, 2000). Whatever the strength of this line of speculation it seems clear enough that while the translation of Yam Suph as "Red Sea" has led to that being the popular identification, it is the least likely. However, it worth noting that the Hebrew word suph not only means "reed" but also means "end" as a noun and "swept away" as a verb (see Ps 73:19). There is here a possible pun that is not intended to accurately place the sea traversed by the Israelites. Following this line of thought, some scholars suggest "Sea of Extinction" as an alternative to "Reed Sea" as a geographical identification. In this case the waters that are being parted are identified by imagery referring to a common ancient Near Eastern creation motif of the waters of chaos being harnessed and the enemies of God being overthrown — which brings us back to the link between the Exodus story and the creation narrative in Genesis. Parting the Seas of Chaos... The sea is central to the biblical image of the cosmos. Like its neighbors in the ancient Near East, the Israelites believed that at creation YHWH divided the cosmic sea to create a three-tiered universe: the sea, the heavens and the earth (Ps 135:6; Rev 14:7). YHWH brought order to the cosmic sea (Ps 95:5; Jon 1:9) gathering the waters covering the entire face of the earth into seas and established their boundaries (Gen 1:2, 9—10; Ps 104:5—9; Job 38:8—11), and rooting the earth in the cosmic sea (Ps 18:15; 24:1—2). YHWH formed the firmament to enclose the atmosphere and hold back the sea from above (Gen 1:6—8; Prov 8:27—29). Above the heavens God's throne floats upon the sea (Ps 29:10; Ezek 1:26). In this picture the sea is a tribute to the power of YHWH the Creator over chaos (1 Kings 7:23—26). As Creator, YHWH controls the sea, both producing and calming its waves (Is 51:15; Jer 31:35), and keeping it within its boundaries (Job 38:8—11; Prov 8:27—29; Jer 5:22). YHWH can dry up the sea at will (Nahum 1:4) or unleash it to judge the world as in the flood (Gen 6—8). Thus the threat of chaos and evil which the sea symbolizes is ultimately hollow. The parting of the Red Sea and destruction of Pharaoh is a reenactment of the subduing of the sea and chaos monster, once more demonstrating God's ultimate authority over forces of chaos and evil (Ex 15; Is 51:9—10). This same authority is symbolized by Jesus' walking on the sea (Mk 6:45—52) and calming the sea (Mk 4:35—41). Even the beast of Revelation which arises from the sea is subdued and cast into the lake of fire (Rev 19:20) — but more about the New Testament stories concerning sea crossings next week. For the moment we may pause to briefly consider why all these sea stories?
Carl Jung postulated that the prevalence of myths and stories about the sea and seafarers are archetypal images of the journey of life, which requires us to chart a course across and sometimes within the depths of our unconscious — the great abyss that lies beneath the surface of our personalities, commonly called the ego (O'Connor, 1993: 50-52). In the biblical creation story order is brought to the primeval chaos in much the same way as the individual ego emerges from the depths of the unconscious. But this is only the first step in the journey of what Jung calls "Indviduation". One must make a "hero's journey" by leaving the security of home and embarking on a great journey of life and self-discovery. It is not a mere coincidence that the enduring hero myths regularly involve journeys across or through great oceans — variations on the motif of the cosmic sea that represents, ironically, both chaos and comfort, slavery and security. But such comfort and security is false. This paradox is found in the Exodus story too, as the Israelites "fear" that they may have been foolish in escaping Egypt where hey were secure, well-fed, and finely-shod albeit in slavery. The image of the seafarer and the explorer is a powerful and timeless one, which has recurs often in legends, fiction and myths of many cultures. From Odysseus to Ahab, the stories of men and women who cannot resist the lure of the sea are part and parcel of human experience as remembered, retold, and recreated by the human imagination. From a Jungian perspective, such sailors and seafarers symbolise and model the basic human experience of being fundamentally alone in the world, cut off from home and the original wholeness that one felt as an infant being suckled at mother's breast (O'Connor, 1993: 163-164). The first step back towards an experience of security and wholeness is to establish a strong ego, which can act independently in the alien environment of the "Wide World" — as Kenneth Grahame puts it in his Wind in the Willows. But that alone will not bring true wholeness. One cannot simply skim the surface of the vast oceans. One must plunge deep within; to go beyond the safe, well policed, and densely populated regions to the uncharted territories. Only by passing through the Sea, as Moses and the Israelites did, can one find new life on the other side, leaving behind the "fleshpots of Egypt" (Ex 16:3). ![]() Bibliography and Further Reading:
©2009 Dr Ian Elmer |
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Dr Ian Elmer is the Lecturer in Biblical Studies at St Paul's Theological College, ACU (Australian Catholic University). He is also on staff at the CECS (Centre for Early Christian Studies), and a member of various professional associations, including ACBA (Australian Catholic Biblical Association) and SBL (Society of Biblical Literature). His research specialities are Paul and First-Century Christianity. He is the author of published articles in the Australian Ejournal of Theology (AJET), Prayer and Spirituality in the Early Church IV and V, and the Australian Biblical Review (ABR). His most recent publication is the monograph Paul, Jerusalem and the Judaisers, WUNT II.258 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009).

