No, the slaves were not ready to leave—no more than the Pharaoh was ready to let them leave. Had the Pharaoh been particularly shrewd, he could have said: You want an exodus? With pleasure. I can do without all these Jewish slaves. So take them, and good riddance. But one question: Have you asked them—are you sure they want to leave? Fortunately, God kept the Pharaoh from playing that game, thus sparing Moses the humiliation of facing slaves reluctant to follow him. One text tells us that while Moses was negotiating the liberation of the Jews with the Pharaoh, Aaron was engaged in trying to convince the Jews to accept freedom. This earned him the honor of becoming the first high priest.

When the negotiations proved fruitless, other methods were tried; the curses, the plagues followed one another, yet without resembling one another. Here again, the text fairly bursts with descriptive power. It is as though one can hear the cries, the lamentations, the shouted orders, picked up and transmitted. The last night, the last chance. A number of non-Jewish slaves and Egyptians decided to join the movement: never again would they have such an opportunity to leave. One can almost hear the Egyptian parents mourning the death of their children, and Moses’ lieutenants jostling and exhorting the people: Let’s go, let’s go, fast, faster. The race against time had started; it was late, later than was thought. The fleeing slaves had but one night to break the vise, to escape their prison. Tomorrow the oppressor would regroup his forces. Tomorrow he would regret his weakness. Tomorrow was at hand, tomorrow was here.

One could see people running, running breathlessly, without a glance backward; they were running toward the sea. And there they came to an abrupt halt: this was the end; death was there, waiting. The leaders of the group, urged on by Moses, pushed forward: Don’t be afraid, go, into the water, into the water! Yet, according to one commentator, Moses suddenly ordered everyone to a halt: Wait a moment. Think, take a moment to reassess what it is you are doing. Enter the sea not as frightened fugitives but as free men! And everyone obeyed. They paused in their rush toward the sea. And Moses turned to God with a prayer. But God reminded him that this was not the right moment: Tell the people of Israel to hurry! And the people, united as never before, swept ahead and crossed the Red Sea, which drew back to let the Jews go through. And, we are told, so awesome and charged with faith was this sight that the most humble of servant girls saw in it more divine mysteries than the prophet Ezekiel perceived centuries later. And Moses began to sing. The stutterer, who could never utter a sentence longer than Shlakh et ami—Let my people go—composed the most majestic, the most lyrical poem in Scripture.

How did the stutterer turn into a minstrel? (Today we are told that while stutterers have difficulties in speaking, they have no problems in singing; this is probably true only since Moses.) The Hasidic explanation: Vayaaminu baadoshem uv Moshe avdo—And they had faith in God and in his servant Moses. For the first time an entire people rallied around Moses; for the first time he became its true spokesman. That was why he was able to sing; through him an entire people was singing.