An old adage – one that Dan Gruber holds to be true in his book Rabbi Akiba’s Messiah – is that history is written by the victors. I guess it doesn’t take a genius to see the truth in that, but sometimes I wonder whether it is as thoroughly true as some make it out to be.

Don’t misunderstand; I get the point, and it’s true in this case. The Pharisee movement, and the specific sect to which Yochanan ben Zacchai belonged, as well as Rabbi Akiba after him, won the political-religious power struggle in Judaism in the wake of the destruction of the Second Temple and the fall of Jerusalem in the first and early second centuries. Considering that prior to this, there was a wealth of sects that comprised Jewish life from the Maccabean era to first-century period, and none of those sects survived, our modern view of Jewish orthodoxy is certainly colored by the Pharisaic movement that won the power struggle.

We don’t have more than scant hints about what the temple service should have been like, for example, from a priestly perspective, or from the perspective of the Sons of Light, the Fourth Philosophy, the Essenes, the Sadducees or any number of other sects that comprised Jewish life prior to the fall of Jerusalem.

Still, if history were as completely Darwinian as academics suggest, one must stand back in wonder at the very survival of Judaism itself. The descendants of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob have experienced more defeat and oppression over the millennia than they have victory and dominance.

From slavery in Egypt to the Babylonia exile to dominating rule by the Greeks and Romans, the Jewish people have rarely been victors in battle, over the long haul of world history. After the Bar Kokhbah Rebellion, it would be another 1800 years or so before they would even have a homeland again.

Yet despite the horrors of the various pogroms, inquisitions and even the Holocaust, Judaism has survived. Their scriptures have survived. The writings of many of their historically significant thinkers have endured.

Heck, most societies fall at one time or another, and eventually fade from power. Which all leads me to conclude that while there are many examples of victors writing the history in a very general way, it is not always the complete truth, or even the whole story. Societies, religions, cultures and movements that are not victorious may not be as well-documented as those who are, certainly; but there are exceptions to every rule, and the survival of Judaism in general is a fine example of this, even if the surviving form of it is a version defined by the victors.

Of course, if one is unable to understand that there are exceptions to such rules of history, I suppose one would be better off not pursuing a career in ministry. Perhaps one would be better-suited to a career in Cary NC real estate? Yes, perhaps.

I’m slowly learning that the path to ministry involves a lot more than just deep study of the Torah. One must engage in history, language, public speaking, counseling and a wealth of other skills that are not exactly the first things that leap to mind when you think of the ministry. While not exactly out of left field, like the study of say, home furniture, it has not been the intense Torah study coursework, so far, that I envisioned.

I mean, sure, they are all essential skills and highly important to a successful ministry venture; but when one mentions entering study to become some form of minister, be it a rabbi, a pastor or a messianic ministry, I think the first thing that flashes through one’s head is Torah study.

I’m beginning, at last, my advanced study coursework under Rabbi Stan and one of our first studies is focused on the history and origins of rabbinic authority. The text we’re using, Rabbi Akiba’s Messiah by Dan Gruber, is a well-researched book that at times is slightly ponderous, even though he eventually explains himself.

I’m learning a lot from the book, but I guess I’m surprised that the first book I’m cracking open in my path toward a possible ordination is by Dan Gruber, rather than Moshe.

When the children of Yisrael fled Pharaoh and followed Moshe and haShem out of the land of Egypt, they had no idea where they were being led. They knew it was not going to be anything as casual as going on Orlando vacations, to be sure, but I doubt they realized just what sort of trials awaited them.

One of the first such trials arose when they came to an apparent dead end. As Torah describes the scene, they had the Red Sea in front of them, impassable land to either side and Pharaoh’s army behind them. There was no escape, from a human perspective.

What this week’s Torah portion brings to mind is the ongoing debate over the path of the Exodus. There are as many different opinions as there are folks involved in Exodus studies. Perhaps more.

The current and trendy option is to re-translate the Red Sea into the Reed Sea, and suggest a route on the northern coast of Egypt, into the lands just south of Yisrael. The borderline minimalists who suggest this, then, are faced with geographic problems that include the fact that the destination lands suggested by their route theories were not outside of the land of Egypt or out of Egyptian control. One cannot flee the land of Egypt by going into lands they control militarily.

The same goes for Simcha Jacobovici’s route theory and Mount Sinai location on his recent History Channel program, The Exodus Decoded. While his theory benefits from taking the claims of Torah seriously, his location holds the same flaws as the northerly Reed Sea routes. It does not take the Yisraelites out of Egyptian-controlled territory.

Also, the most traditional location in the southwestern area of the Sinai Peninsula suffers the same problems; it was territory under Egyptian control and has the further problem of not having the geographic features described in Torah, as well as that the Egyptian military guarded the area, which was at the time being used for Egyptian mining purposes.

The location that best serves as the crossing point is the Gulf of Acquba location suggested, among others, by Dr. Lennart Moller in his book, The Exodus Case, and further explored in the 2001 documentary The Exodus Revealed. The gulf is part of the Red Sea, and fits all the geographic features described in Torah.

Rabbi Stan has been hitting prayer as a theme hard for the past several weeks. His main point is that people don’t often really pray to G-d… they pray at him. In other words, they treat G-d like the person from whom they get their professional business cards, rather than someone they are in relationship with. As someone you make requests, even demands of, without really listening to beyond that immediate need.

What does that mean?

How many folks who pray, stop when they run out of things to say or ask for? I’d wager that’s most of us.

The more important skill is allowing haShem time to respond back. Now, rarely is it a burning bush or a disembodied voice… you have to go to Torah for that. But G-d does respond, when we take the time to listen.

It’s a message that has challenged me. One I need to take to heart if I’m serious about pursuing these advanced studies classes with ordination as a possible goal. Stan’s idea is a good one… pray for at least an hour a day, and if you use 45 minutes of that time praising haShem and laying out your cares and concerns, is it asking too much to be quiet for the last 15 minutes or so and let G-d get a word in edgewise, with a response?