Beshalach

What is the first business of one who would study philosophy? To rid himself of self-conceit. For it is impossible for someone to begin to learn that which he thinks he already knows - Epictetus

No fear. No distractions. The ability to let that which does not matter truly slide. - Fight Club

This week's parashah is dominated by two major events: the splitting of the Red Sea, and the war against Amalek. Oh, and extremely perishable food fell in great quantities from the heavens, thus teaching us some profound lesson about the omni-benevolence of God which I'm sure has been covered elsewhere. Let's move on.

There's a particular moment in the midrashic recount of the Great Aquatic Getaway that has always stuck with me. The Jews are sandwiched between a rock and a wet place, and Moses gets the order from on high: "beat the waters with your magic stick, and I shall part them for you". So Moses does his hocus pocus... and nothing happens. The Egyptian army is drawing near, and they've brought their really expensive Aston Martin chariots with them (Ex 14:7), so you know they mean business. Amongst the now panicked Hebrews there is much talk of surrender, preparation for a desperate last military struggle, and widespread pants-wetting. The Prince of the tribe of Judah, a total badass named Nachshon ben Aminadav, says "screw it", and decides to play chicken with God. He just walks right into the sea, like it's not even there because, let's face it, you did promise to move it out of the way, Mr. God. He walks in, and his feet get wet. So he keeps walking. And his knees get wet. Pretty soon he's wading, and the water is still not going anywhere. By this point a lesser man might be thinking, "hmmm... maybe the physical laws of the Universe really are immutable. Ah well, I'd better towel myself off and go build a few more pyramids." But not our Nachshon. Nachson ben Aminadav, you see, simply does not give a fuck. He keeps walking. "I'm not gonna blink," he says to God. "You blink." He keeps walking until he's up to his fucking nose. And God blinks. BAM! A pathway of dry land from coast to coast.

After crossing the sea, watching the pursuing Egyptians drown, singing about it, and looting all the Egyptian corpses and expensive luxury chariots with dual-suspension, the Jews are soon set upon by the warlike nation of Amalek. This is the first time that the Children of Israel have had to wage a war, and how they fight this one sets a precedent for all their future wars: Kill. Fucking. EVERYTHING. They fight this war hard and long, and when Amalek finally retreats, God Himself vows to never stop this war. Seriously: never. The wholesale slaughter and eradication of Amalek becomes the eternal policy of Jewish theocratic leadership. When the Jews get another shot at it a few hundred years later, they are told to "put to death men and women, children and infants, cattle and sheep, camels and donkeys." (1 Samuel 15:3) The Jews diligently fight this war of extermination and, after a brief campaign, the total number of Amalekites left alive on the planet is... one man. And when the reigning prophet of Israel finds out that the Jewish king spared the life of the Amalekite king, the enraged seer promptly commandeers a nearby axe and hacks the last Amalekite to death.

In the Hebrew language, the numerological value of the word "Amalek" is the same as that of the word "sofek" - "doubt". It's a connection that fits rather snugly and obviously within the simple framework of "the-war-of-Amalek-as-a-representation-of-man's-inner-struggle-against-his-own-character-flaws". But to me it also carries a subtler message which is infinitely more sinister: you must destroy your own doubts before you can destroy another's infant.

We begin the parashah with balls-of-steel saving one nation, and end with unswerving obedience eradicating another. It was a lack of doubt that made both the greatest salvation and the greatest destruction possible; a paradox which recurs all around us today. Some very confident people start Fortune 500 companies. Other very confident people slaughter children in the name of their gods (yep, we're still doing that). And so the question arises: when is doubt a good thing, and when is doubt a bad thing?

I've spent the last week mulling this one over in both drunken and sober states, exploring the issue with everyone from rabbis to fire-twirlers (ok, maybe it was just those two groups), and I think I've got myself a vaguely respectable answer. Remember that post I did a while back, when I talked about the constant balance between big and small ideas? (You don't? Then welcome to my writings, newcomer. If you're not a regular reader, you really should be. This blog is written by the greatest writer I've ever been.)

I think the doubt question can be settled by appealing to the aforementioned dichotomy: as a general rule, if it's a big idea, doubt it. If it's a small idea, don't. So don't fret too much over whether to get the cappuccino or the latte, or over the fact that you kissed a girl and you liked it. It's all gonna be OK either way. But when it comes to really big answers, ask a lot of questions.

How did the Universe begin? What is the meaning of life? (it may well have a lot to do with kissing girls, and liking it) And, in the timeless words of Oolon Colluphid: "Who is this God person anyway?"