The highlight of this week’s Torah reading (Exodus 13:17–17:16) is the splitting of the Red Sea as the Jews make their final escape from their Egyptian oppressors. In trying to interpret the miracle, according to an ancient midrashic collection, the rabbis got help from a figure mentioned only three times in the Hebrew Bible: Serach, the granddaughter of Jacob, who, as Rabbi Rachel Adelman writes, “like Elijah, . . . shows up in the Hall of Study to resolve disputes.”

Adelman connects this tale to a variety of other rabbinic traditions that portray Serach daughter of Asher—the only female mentioned in the genealogy of the Israelites who went down to Egypt at the end of the book of Genesis—as having an extremely long, perhaps unending, lifespan, and as providing crucial assistance that made the exodus possible:

In Pirkey d’Rabbi Eliezer, a mid-8th-century narrative midrash, Serach plays a pivotal role in Moses’ appeal to the elders of Israel, after God appoints him to lead Israel out of Egypt. . . . When the elders are gathered, they turn to their elder Serach, now well over two-hundred years old, to determine whether Moses is legitimate.

She is the last survivor of the generation that came to Egypt from Canaan and therefore the sole link of the promise to the forefathers. True to her name, which means “hangs over,” Serach exceeds the normal life span, and overlaps the generations.

In this version of the story, “Asher son of Jacob delivered the secret of the redemption to Serach, his daughter.” Serach only admits Moses’ authenticity when he makes esoteric reference to the “secret of redemption,” and only then do the people believe him. Reading the story of Exodus through the lens of these midrashic tales reveals something important. On the one hand it is a story of revolution: the slaves gain their freedom; Pharoah’s reign and the religious beliefs that undergird it are overthrown; and the Israelites are taken to the wilderness to receive an entirely new set of laws and a new moral system. On the other hand, the Exodus depends on the continuation of tradition: it is the “God of your fathers” who appears to Moses; and it is Serach, the ultimate conveyer of ancient knowledge, who ensures his message is heard.

Examining the effects of Iran’s decision to launch nearly 200 ballistic missiles at Israel on October 1, Benny Morris takes stock of the Jewish state’s strategic situation:

The massive Iranian attack has turned what began as a local war in and around the Gaza Strip and then expanded into a Hamas–Hizballah–Houthi–Israeli war [into] a regional war with wide and possibly calamitous international repercussions.

Before the Iranians launched their attack, Washington warned Tehran to desist (“don’t,” in President Biden’s phrase), and Israel itself had reportedly cautioned the Iranians secretly that such an attack would trigger a devastating Israeli counterstrike. But a much-humiliated Iran went ahead, nonetheless.

For Israel, the way forward seems to lie in an expansion of the war—in the north or south or both—until the country attains some sort of victory, or a diplomatic settlement is reached. A “victory” would mean forcing Hizballah to cease fire in exchange, say, for a cessation of the IDF bombing campaign and withdrawal to the international border, or forcing Iran, after suffering real pain from IDF attacks, to cease its attacks and rein in its proxies: Hizballah, Hamas, and the Houthis.

At the same time, writes Morris, a victory along such lines would still have its limits:

An IDF withdrawal from southern Lebanon and a cessation of Israeli air-force bombing would result in Hizballah’s resurgence and its re-investment of southern Lebanon down to the border. Neither the Americans nor the French nor the UN nor the Lebanese army—many of whose troops are Shiites who support Hizballah—would fight them.