In the Selichos we recite on fast days and during Elul and Tishrei, we appeal to 'He Who answered our forefathers at the Sea of Reeds, may He answer us', alluding to the 'cries' that were expressed during that trying moment, that were responded to with the splitting of the sea.

Yet prior to the parting of the sea, almost in the same breath of their cry, the Children of Israel add an additional sentiment.

They said to Moshe, "Is it because there are no graves in Egypt that you have taken us to die in the desert? What is this that you have done to us to take us out of Egypt?"

Is this the voice of someone imploring G-d for help? Did they suddenly lose it, giving up on their former reliance on G-d, now descending into angry cynical resentment for their dire predicament?

During the 70's, Time magazine related a statistic that eighty percent of all comedians were Jewish. Are we really that funny?

Humor has been described as something that occurs when a person simultaneously appraises a situation as wrong or threatening and yet appraises the situation to be okay or acceptable in some way. Watching someone walk through a door where a pail of water is pitched strategically to fall unknowingly upon the victim, and douses him, arouses laughter. [Benign Violation Theory – Warren and McGraw]

However, when the threat is hostile and hurtful, i.e., a heavy weight waiting to fall on his head, it becomes a formula for cynical and sarcastic demeaning of another. The transition from good humor to caustic assault is too close for comfort.

Nasty puns, sarcastic comments, and cynical mocking are all formulated by assessing a threatening or wrong situation or fact and directing blame or placing shame on another.

Why do Jews have big noses? Because air is free. One could laugh at this example of humor or take offense in the intimation Jews are greedy.

The ability to laugh or be offended would depend on each person's perception of 'benign'.

Cynical comments are often used to diminish the stature of others we feel controlled by. Someone with an overbearing mother-in-law will utter mother-in-law jokes with an undertone of hostility. One who has a healthy relationship, could benignly share a humorous anecdote evincing a warm and friendly laugh.

The Jewish nation are renowned for their skepticism, not easily convinced or influenced.

Rav S.R. Hirsch sees in this very verse — where they cynically comment on the irony of having just left the vast 'graveyard' of Egypt, only to become the unburied victims in the desert of the charging Egyptians, doubting Moshe's leadership and the promise of G-d — as proof of their discerning nature.

Quoting in the name of Rabbi Yehuda Halevi he writes: These continuous doubts form an important proof for the mission of Moshe… Moshe had to deal with a clear-minded people whose minds were not befogged by fantastic ideas, and who were not easily taken in, or convinced, by the first man who comes along… This sharp irony — are there no graves…— even in moments of deepest anxiety and despair is characteristic of the witty vein which is inherent in the Jewish race from their earliest beginnings.

Our unique Jewish DNA evidently equips us to perceive a world and all its ironies with this double-edged tongue. Hopefully we can laugh in the face of these absurdities we observe, knowing that all is benign when we place our trust fully in G-d, Who does all only for our good. Or it can prod in those moments of doubt, accusatory and cynical comments bewailing our fate, wondering aloud why G-d has abandoned us.

Even in those dark times when we cannot quite fathom the benign kindness that ultimately prevails even in the most difficult challenges — and rather than laugh we become despairingly sarcastic — nevertheless we are pining for clarity and a closeness that will permit us to believe.

The Maharal addresses the question that all commentaries pose, how can we understand this depiction of their crying out to G-d as a positive prayer 'seizing the art of our forefathers', when immediately following that cry we contemptuously question our fate and the commitment of G-d and Moshe to our survival?

He asserts that this description of their seizing the craft of their ancestors was deficient, they merely responded instinctively, without much thought, heart, or devotion. But, nevertheless, they were answered. Rav Hutner explains, it wasn’t their prayers that were fulfilled — as the verse later states that G-d instructed, that He will fight but they should remain silent — but rather it was their alignment with the instincts of the forefathers that held out hope for their being saved. There is no need for prayer.  (פחד יצחק פורים ענין יט)

But don’t we pray in Selichos that 'He Who answered our forefathers at the Sea of Reeds, may He answer us', indicating that indeed it was their prayers that were heeded?

Perhaps we can take this one step further.

The Targum Unkelos on the word ויצעקו — and they cried, translates it as וזעיקו, and they wailed, a connotation of תרעומות — complaint. (רבינו בחיי)

In fact, we recite each morning ואת זעקתם — and their outcry You heard at the Sea of Reeds. (תפילת וכרות עמו הברית)

Their cry was one of complaint. They turned to G-d confused, upset and frustrated, but they didn’t abandon Him. This too is a form of prayer, where we openly vent to a Father we may not yet comprehend, but a Father nevertheless.

Rashi after describing this crying out in the craft of their ancestors, cites three instances where each of our four forefathers turned to G-d in prayer.

The first is when Avraham sets out on the morning after having prayed the previous day on behalf of the inhabitants of Sodom to see if his entreaties would be accepted, it reports he went to the place that עמד שם— he stood there the day before. (בראשית כט יז)

The second reference is when Yitzchok returns from Be'er-lachai-roi, going out לשוח בשדה — to supplicate in the field.

Lastly, when Yaakov leaves for Charan, it says, ויפגע במקום — he encountered the place, alluding to his praying.

There are many other verses, quoted in the Mechilta ,indicating how they each prayed throughout their lifetimes, yet Rashi selected specifically these three, and actually cites a verse regarding Avraham, which is not quoted in the source, the Mechilta.

These three expressions of prayer avoid any mention to their calling out to G-d in supplication, rather emphasizing the nature of the encounter.

עמידה — standing accents a stationing of oneself directly before G-d.

שיחה — literally, conversing, portrays an image of an intimate, and almost casual conversation with G-d.

פגיעה — synonymous with the term פגישה — connotes a meeting of two close parties.

Prayer is not merely a forum for petitioning G-d, but more importantly sensing His closeness, His concern, His love.

Confrontation is also at times, a mode of connection. This is the זעקה — we refer to in their 'relating' to G-d, that brought about their salvation. It may not be perfect, but in the relationship we are privileged to have with G-d, there is much hope even when we are cynical kvetchers.

The great Chassidic master, Reb Noach of Lechovitz, was once asked why he didn’t follow precisely in the manner of avodah his father set forth. He responded that in fact he did exactly as his father did, "My father never imitated anyone else, and so I don't mimic him either!"

He directed the inquirer to this Rashi that speaks of the 'craft' of the forefathers, and cites three different synonyms for prayer, indicating each one's was originality of approach.

So too, the mode of 'crying out' ironically, was their attempt of connecting to G-d in a manner suited to their experience and circumstance.

The great 19^th century Moroccan Gaon, Rav Yosef Knafo points out that the first letters of these three intimate approaches to prayer spell out the word שפע — abundant flow, but also the word פשע — sin.

We have a special relationship with G-d, it can effect copious blessing, or if abused, corrupt into sin.

Especially so, with this delicate mode of 'crying out' which develops from our unique DNA to be healthily skeptical, we must be wary to never become dangerously cynical that can lead to poisonous negativity.

This quality to laugh when the outcome is benign is our most potent talent. If we look at every difficulty as divinely directed, and no matter what comes our way, we know it is for our benefit, it can allow us to laugh even in the direst of situations.

A story is related how the great Reb Simcha Bunim of Peshischa was once standing near the ocean and caught sight of a fellow Jew who was drowning and struggling mightily against the powerful waves and current. The Rebbe noticed that the fellow began to wear down, seemingly succumbing to defeat, accepting the inevitable. The Rebbe suddenly screamed out to the poor fellow, apparently in jest, "Send my regards to the Livyasan!" In that instant of humor, he momentarily became distracted from his fate, and renewed his commitment to survive, eventually making it to shore!

Perhaps the Jews finding themselves in a precarious state at the edge of the raging sea, with nowhere to run, engaged in a moment of black humor, ironically blurting out in jest, "Is it because there are no graves in Egypt that you have taken us to die in the desert?" In a flash of renewed reality, they forged forward, jumping into the sea, splitting it and seeing the brilliant truth of G-d's love and commitment to them in all situations they may ever face!

באהבה,

צבי יהודה טייכמאן