Following the Israelites’ crossing of the miraculously split Reed Sea and the Egyptians’ drowning therein, the Torah records: “Then Moses and the Children of Israel sang this song to the L-rd, and they said the following: I shall sing to the L-rd, for He is exalted above the arrogant, having hurled horse with its rider into the sea.”
This is the second verse in the famous “Song of the Sea,” a song that is so important that it is incorporated into the prayerbook, recited daily.
Note: The Song of the Sea, which the whole nation sang, is in the first person, “I shall sing.” The song continues: “ . . . This is my G-d and I will glorify Him, G-d of my father and I will exalt him” (Exodus 15:2).
Who is “my father?” The G-d of exactly whom am I exalting?
In the phrase, “G-d of my father,” the reference to G-d is clear. This is the G-d who just saved the Israelites from the Egyptians. But who is “my father?” This is not clear.
Is this Moses’ father? Moses is leading the song. Perhaps “G-d of my father” is Moses’ father Amram.
Or, is “my father” the biological father of each Israelite, who is singing along with Moses?
Another possibility: Is “my father” the father of the Jewish people, Abraham?
Or, is each Israelite intending his or her own forefather, such as Abraham or Isaac or Jacob, whose model is taken as more personally compelling than that of the other forefathers?
Or, is “my father” all of the forefathers collectively?
Is “my father” some unrecorded Israelite spiritual guide in Egypt who helped sustain individual slaves throughtout their suffering?
The text does not specify. “My father” could be any of these possibilities.
Really? Isn’t that a stretch? Isn’t that technically called eisgesis, reading into the text, making it say what I want it to say?
Not really, since the text itself invites these possibilities. How so? The Song of the Sea is sung by the collective, but it is formulated in the singular. It opens, “I shall sing . . .” In the whole nation’s song of gratitude, Moses and the people switch from the expected plural to the unexpected personal voice. As every individual sings this song of gratitude along with the massive group, it is a personal song. It acknowledges personal salvation. It says: I sing, I give thanks as an individual. G-d saved me, not just a large group in which I am anonymous.
But if the referent of “my father” is not specific, then what is the verse teaching us? If “my father” could be many possible fathers, what is the point?
Whomever “my father” might connote to each Israelite, safely ensconced on the other side of the Reed Sea, or whomever “my father” might connote to all of them, a common denominator pervades the possibilities: When I am blessed by G-d’s salvation, it is not enough to regard myself as isolated from someone who came before me, whomever that someone is.
And whoever it is, it connotes not just any person, but an extremely special person (or persons) — it is “my father!” True, I am the one whom G-d saved from slavery, I am the one whom G-d rescued from the Egyptians in hot pursuit, but I cannot view this life-changing event in isolation. The verse teaches: I do not exist in isolation. I am not favored by G-d in isolation. When my life advances along a completely new, elevated trajectory, I must, of course, exalt “my” G-d, but not only my G-d. I must also exalt the “G-d of my father.”
Why?
Each person is the product not only of his own choices and environment. A person is the product of his own background, and his background did not begin the day he was born. It is not just genes that a person inherits. It is the choices and environment of his immediate influences — his parents, teachers and role models — and of progenitors who preceded even them. Moments of great impact and success can either embolden one’s ego or expand one’s perspective. Life-changing salvation can yield, “Look at me; look how special I am,” or “Look at the succor so many others have bestowed on me.” Exodus 15:2 teaches, “It’s not just me whom G-d favored, it is the G-d of my father. For I would not be who I am I without the G-d of my father.”
The Song of the Sea is 19 verses. “G-d of my father” appears right near the beginning, in the second verse. The Israelites’ connection to that person who, in their minds, could only be associated with G-d Himself came to them immediately. It did not take sustained self-scrutiny, it did not take deep introspection, to know the truth: Their freedom from slavery refracted the gifts they received from their father. It did not take a whole song to realize the genuine scope of their good fortune. They expressed it right away.
Still more. The “G-d of my father” conveys not only a human perspective, not only a realization that I am an inheritor. It conveys a Divine perspective.
G-d, in rescuing the Israelite slaves, acted not only in response to their cry, their pain, their plea. G-d acted also in response to the plea and pain of the slaves’ progenitors — to their fathers and forefathers. What is the right word for this? “Multigenerational” is not quite right because that implies that many generations, both the children and the parents, were saved by G-d. But only the sons were redeemed from slavery and crossed the Sea. Still, just as G-d sometimes does not exact punishment until the sins pile high, across the generations, so, too, the merits must pile high before Divine salvation descends across the generations. It is the prayers and good deeds of the “G-d of my father” that work their way upward and have an effect.
One hears this with some frequency. Say, for example, that two or three generations of Jews fell away from the Jewish lifestyle. What brought back the great-grandchild, who re-adopted the Jewish lifestyle? One hears, for example, “The merit of the tears of the great-grandmother at Shabbos candlelighting.”
She herself saw no answer to her prayers. But they had the desired effect, down the line. One is free to reject this as not “evidence-based,” but if one accepts the Torah, then one accepts this cross-generational concept, this idea that salvation is visited on the next generation due in part to the merits of previous generations. That is what is asserted in Exodus 15:2, “I shall exalt the G-d of my father.” Who my father was — however I identify the reference — and what specific merits my father accumulated, makes a difference not only to me. It makes a difference to G-d, for me.
© IJN 2025
