If You Want Something Done Right...

If you had a time machine and could go back to any moment in history, where would you go?

Some would choose Creation. Was it a Divine act or cosmic explosion? Others would stand at Sinai, hoping to witness revelation firsthand.

In the spirit of the holiday, I would choose one moment above all: Keriat Yam Suf, the splitting of the sea. Drama. Terror. Faith. Redemption. And, as the Midrash tells us, a level of Divine revelation so intense that even the greatest prophets could not match it. It must have been breathtaking.

Here’s the problem: What actually happened?

The Torah gives us a clear, almost orderly narrative. The people panic. Moshe prays. God responds, “Why do you cry out to Me? Speak to the Children of Israel and let them travel.” Moshe raises his staff. The sea splits. The people walk through. The Egyptians drown.

Clean. Structured. Predictable.
And then comes the Midrash and everything becomes far less orderly.

The sea does not split immediately. The people hesitate. They argue. They debate. Some say, “I’ll go first.” Others say, “No, I will.” Still others say, “Not me.” It’s a moment of confusion, of paralysis, of talk. Until one person acts.

That person, as we all know, is Nachshon ben Aminadav, the prince of the tribe of Judah. He doesn’t deliver a speech. He doesn’t organize a committee. He doesn’t wait for consensus. He just walks into the water. But nothing happens. He goes deeper - waist-deep, chest-deep, the water reaches his neck…his lips…his nostrils…and only then does the sea split.

If you want something done right, sometimes you have to do it yourself.

It is striking that the Torah never mentions Nachshon in this moment. Not a word. Officially, the miracle happens through Moshe, through Divine command. But the Rabbis insist on telling another truth: Behind the miracle of the splitting of the sea stands the courage of an individual who acted when no one else would.

The Torah tells the story of God’s power. The Midrash tells the story of human responsibility. And the second story is harder to live.

Perhaps that is why Nachshon’s role is hidden in the text but preserved in our tradition. If the Torah had told us explicitly that one man stepped forward and split the sea, we might think it’s easy. We might imagine ourselves in his place, confidently striding into the waves. But it’s not easy. It’s incredibly difficult to be the one.

There’s a famous scene in Monty Python's Life of Brian where a leader declares, “You are all individuals!” The crowd responds in unison, “We are all individuals!” Except for one voice: “I’m not!”

It’s funny because it’s true.
It’s easy to say we value individuality. It’s much harder to actually live it.

At the sea, there was no shortage of voices. There were opinions, intentions, even declarations of willingness, but only one person translated words into action. Nachshon didn’t wait for perfect clarity. He didn’t wait for guarantees. He didn’t wait for someone else to lead. He moved.

The Lubavitcher Rebbe taught that Nachshon understood something essential: God wanted the Jewish people to move forward toward Sinai. There was a sea in the way. So, he entered the sea.

That is the enduring message of the seventh day of Pesach.

We often wait for consensus, for permission, for the perfect moment. We talk, we plan, and we agree in principle. But seas do not split because of good intentions. They split because of action.

The challenge of individuality is not philosophical; it is practical. It is found in the moments when we are called upon to step forward while others hesitate. In our religious lives, our communities, our families, and our personal growth, we are constantly standing at the edge of some sea.

We ask: Who will go first? Nachshon answers: You.

Our tradition gives us countless opportunities to take that step, to stop being part of the chorus and become the voice, to stop discussing and start doing. In big moments and small, we are invited to act, to define ourselves, to move forward. Not just to believe. Not just to support. Not just to offer thoughts and prayers. But to step in.

To do; not just donate. To engage; not just endorse. To act; not just agree.

Pesach begins with the journey to freedom. It ends with a challenge: move. Because sometimes, if you want something done right…you have to jump in yourself. And if we do take that first step into uncertain waters, we just might split the sea.