From the Splitting of the Red Sea to the Opening of the Straits of Hormuz

We have just come out of the holiness of the seventh day of Passover. But this year felt different.

As we entered the holiday on Tuesday night, it was not with quiet calm, but with the piercing sound of sirens, the distant thunder of missiles, and the hurried rush to protected spaces. Families sat at their holiday tables with hearts carrying not only gratitude, but also fear—a sense of uncertainty and vulnerability.

The prayers felt slower, deeper, more real.

And now, as we step out of the holiday, 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 salvation we are hoping for? We don’t know.

But for a believer, 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—trapped, surrounded, with nowhere to turn. Behind them was Egypt in full force. Before them, a sea that could not be crossed.

And on that very night—the seventh day of Passover—everything changed.

What had always been a barrier became a path. What looked like the end became the beginning. And the people of Israel moved forward—not because they understood, but because they trusted.

And the Egyptians? The Torah tells us that God 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 that the people believed in God and in Moses, His servant.

A moment of clarity. A moment of faith.

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 Red Sea. Today, it is the Straits of Hormuz.

Then, the waters became the undoing of a mighty empire. Today, the waters have become a channel through which a dangerous power is being weakened and held back.

Then, God 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 guiding hand is quietly directing events exactly where they need to go.

There is, of course, a difference.

At the Red Sea, the miracle was open—impossible to miss. Moses raised his staff, and the hand of God was clear for all to see.

Today, the world speaks a different language—of strength, strategy, and politics. Nations act. Leaders decide.

But a believer knows that behind everything, there is only one true power.

Every missile that does not land. Every life that is spared. Every turn that brings protection—

Our efforts matter—but they are only a vessel. The outcome is His.

And perhaps this is the challenge of our time.

At the sea, it was impossible not to see. Today, it is all too easy to miss.

A person living through a miracle does not always recognize it.

But in these powerful days, 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 hand of God is present.

We are in the month of Nisan—the month of miracles. The month when nature bends. The month when redemption begins.

We have seen fear—and we have seen protection. We have seen danger—and we have seen salvation.

And perhaps, just perhaps, we are beginning to hear again the echo of that ancient song—soft at first, but slowly growing, rising from within the very fabric of our lives.

May it be God’s will that these are not passing moments, but the beginning of something much greater.

That from the Song at the Sea, we will soon merit the ultimate new song—with the coming of Mashiach, speedily in our days.

And may we all be blessed with a healthy, peaceful, and joyful summer, filled with blessing, success, and all the good we wish for ourselves and for all the people of Israel.

Rabbi Eliezer Simcha Weisz

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)