Exodus Chapter 15 – Commentary & Explanation Bible Study
Exodus Chapter 15 – Commentary & Explanation Bible Study
Exodus 15, I feel like I can almost smell the salt of the Red Sea still drifting in the air, like the wind carrying the last echo of crashing waters swallowing the armies that terrified Israel only moments before. It’s strange how Scripture holds sound. Like the way some memories feel like they’re still vibrating in your chest. This chapter sings—literally—because it’s the first recorded song in the Bible. And it’s not just a melody; it’s like a trembling cry of relief, awe, fear, joy, and something else… something ancient, wild, holy.
This is Shirat Ha-Yam, שִׁירַת הַיָּם, “The Song of the Sea.”
In Greek (LXX), it is called “ᾆσμα Μωυσῆ”, asma Mōysē, the “Song of Moses.”
Verse 1 – “I will sing unto the LORD…”
Hebrew:
’Ashîrah la-YHWH ki-ga’oh ga’ah – “I will sing to YHWH, for He has triumphed gloriously.”
The Hebrew phrase גָּאָה גָּאָה (ga’oh ga’ah) literally means “He has risen up, risen up,” or “He has shown surpassing greatness.”
The doubling is like Hebrew bold text.
Greek (LXX):
Asōmen tō Kyriō endoxōs gar dedoxastai.
“Let us sing to the Lord, for gloriously has He been glorified.”
The Greek smooths it, while Hebrew punches it like a heartbeat.
This verse feels like Moses suddenly can breathe again. Sometimes after fear, the first breath feels like worship.
The horse and rider—sus v’rokhvo—cast into the sea. That’s not gentle imagery. You can feel the shock of it. There’s gratitude, but also a trembling because they saw what judgment looks like up close. God isn’t small or tame.
Sometimes God’s salvation terrifies before it comforts.
Verse 2 – “The LORD is my strength and my song…”
Hebrew:
Yahh ’ozzi v’zimrat Yahh – “Yah is my strength and my music / melody.”
The word זִמְרָת (zimrat) has a taste to it, like something sharp, maybe like pomegranate rind or the tang of metal. It means song but also “praise that cuts through.” Almost like a shout that breaks chains.
Greek:
Boēthos kai skepis mou kyrios – “The Lord is my helper and protector.”
The Greek tones it down. But Hebrew here is personal, intimate. Strength, yes. But also “my music.” The God who makes salvation sing inside the bones of a person.
Israel is still shaking from trauma. But here they say: He has become my salvation (וַיְהִי־לִי לִישׁוּעָה – vay’hi-li l’yeshuah).
That word yeshuah is the same root as Yeshua (Jesus).
Their deliverance is a foreshadow.
Verse 3 – “The LORD is a man of war…”
In Hebrew:
YHWH ish milchamah – “YHWH is a man of war.”
There is something raw here. Not sanitized. Not soft. God fights. He doesn’t stand distant when His people cry.
The Greek says:
Kyrios syntribōn polemous – “The Lord crushes wars.”
Slightly different nuance. The Hebrew emphasizes God as the warrior Himself. The Greek emphasizes Him ending warfare.
Both true, but the feeling of each is different in the mouth.
You can almost hear the clash of chariots still echoing behind the verse.
Verses 4–5 – The drowning of the army
Pharaoh’s chariots, his elite warriors—mivchar shalishav—the best of the best, thrown into the sea.
The song almost tastes metallic here, like iron soaked in salt. The Hebrew uses the word תְּהֹמֹת (tehomot), “the deep places,” similar to the ancient chaotic waters from Genesis 1.
It’s like God dragged Egypt’s pride back into chaos, unmaking their arrogance.
The Greek says “katēpontōthēsan”—“they were sunk down.” Like stones.
I don’t know why, but when I read this part, I sometimes imagine how quiet the sea must have been afterwards. The stillness must have been unnerving.
Verse 6 – “Your right hand, O LORD, is glorious in power…”
Right hand in Hebrew—yamin—symbolizes strength, authority.
Yemincha YHWH ne’edarî ba-koach – “Your right hand is adorned with power.”
The Greek uses dexia for right hand.
The Hebrew word נֶּאְדָּרִי (ne’edarî) has a sense of “majestic, splendid, awe-evoking.”
God’s power is beautiful and terrible. Like standing near lightning.
Verse 7 – God’s burning anger
This verse has intense imagery.
“You send forth Your wrath; it consumes them like stubble.”
Hebrew for wrinkle-like anger: charon ’af – “burning of the nose,” literally.
It’s fascinating that anger in Hebrew is described by the flaring of nostrils. Very human, very embodied.
Greek:
“kai hōrgisou katestrepse tous echthrous.”
“Your anger overturned the enemies.”
Hebrew focuses on consuming flame. Greek focuses on overthrowing.
The sensory feel of the Hebrew is stronger—you can almost smell the smoke.
Verse 8 – Waters standing like walls
“With the blast of Your nostrils the waters piled up.”
Hebrew: be-ruach ’appeka – “with the wind of Your nose.”
Greek: en pneumatī thumou sou – “with the breath/spirit of Your wrath.”
Hebrew makes it physical. Greek makes it spiritual.
The imagery is crazy—waters congealed (kaf’u mayim).
The Hebrew root קָפָא (kaf’a) means “to thicken, to freeze, to curdle.”
God made the sea stand like gelatin walls. Imagine touching it—cold, trembling, solid but liquid but not liquid. How do you even describe that? They couldn’t either. That’s why the word is so strange.
Verse 9 – The arrogance of the enemy
“The enemy said, ‘I will pursue, I will overtake…’”
Egypt’s pride is shown by repetition:
’erdoph ’asig ’achaleq shelal…
“I will pursue, I will reach, I will divide the spoil.”
They thought Israel was prey.
But pride always speaks too soon.
Verse 10 – God blows and the sea collapses
“You blew with Your wind, the sea covered them.”
Hebrew “nashavta” – You exhaled.
God doesn’t need thunder or armies. Just a breath.
Greek uses “epneusas” – same meaning.
There’s something almost frightening in how effortless divine judgment is.
Verse 11 – “Who is like You, O LORD, among the gods?”
Hebrew:
Mi chamocha ba’elim YHWH? – “Who is like You among the mighty ones?”
elim could mean “gods” or “powerful beings.”
Even the word itself feels weighty.
Greek:
“tis homoios soi en theois, Kyrie?”
Almost the same meaning, but “theois” clearly means gods.
The verse says God is “kadosh”, holy.
Actually: “nora tehilot, oseh fele.”
“Awesome in praises, doing wonders.”
I love the word פֶּלֶא (pele)—wonders beyond comprehension.
Israel is beginning to realize God isn’t like anything else.
Verse 12 – God stretches out His hand
In Hebrew:
Natita yemincha – “You stretched out Your right hand.”
The earth swallowed the enemy.
Greek uses katepiesen—“devoured.”
Like the land itself joined God’s judgment.
Verses 13–16 – God will guide His people
These verses shift from past to future, from rescue to the long journey ahead.
“You have led in Your mercy this people whom You redeemed.”
The word חֶסֶד (chesed) appears—steadfast love, covenant loyalty.
Not just emotion, but action.
Greek uses eleos – mercy, but softer than chesed.
There’s a warmth in the Hebrew, like a hand guiding someone in the dark.
They will be shaken. The nations will tremble. Philistia, Edom, Moab, Canaan—all terrified. God’s reputation moves faster than Israel’s footsteps.
Verse 17 – God brings them to His mountain
“You will bring them in and plant them in the mountain of Your inheritance.”
Plant them—titta’em—like a gardener.
Israel isn’t thrown into the land; they’re planted to grow.
Greek mirrors it closely: katafytiseis autous – “You will plant them.”
This verse is almost prophetic, looking forward to Zion.
Verse 18 – “The LORD shall reign forever and ever.”
This verse feels like the peak of the song.
A declaration echoing into eternity.
Hebrew:
YHWH yimlokh le-olam va’ed – “YHWH will reign forever and ever.”
In Greek:
Kyriois basileuei eis tous aiōnas kai ep’ aiōna tou aiōnos.
Almost poetic—ages of ages.
You can feel the joy here.
Verses 19–21 – Miriam’s song and the tambourines
Miriam—Miryam ha-neviah—Miriam the prophetess.
Sister of Aaron, probably older than both brothers.
She takes the timbrel—tof—and the women follow her with dance (mecholot).
You can almost hear the clattering rhythm, maybe a bit off-beat because they’re trembling with excitement, shaking from adrenaline. Dust kicking up under their feet. The air tasting of smoke and salt.
Her song echoes verse 1, but with a woman’s voice, and maybe with tears.
Sometimes repetition is the best kind of worship.
Verses 22–24 – The bitter waters of Marah
Suddenly the tone shifts. The song fades into the wilderness.
Three days—shaloshet yamim—with no water. Imagine the dryness on their tongues, the cracked lips, the dust coating their throats. The joy evaporates into complaint.
Marah means “bitterness.”
The Greek word is pikria—also bitterness.
They didn’t just taste bitter water; the bitterness was inside them too. Trauma doesn’t vanish in three days. Salvation doesn’t erase survival instinct.
This is very human. I like that the Bible doesn’t hide their weakness. Makes me feel less guilty about my own.
Verse 25 – The tree that healed the water
God shows Moses a tree—etz.
He throws it into the water and it becomes sweet—matku ha-mayim.
Greek uses xylon—wood.
Some rabbis later say the tree symbolized Torah. Early Christians saw it as a shadow of the cross. Maybe God just chose a tree. Maybe meanings stack up like sediment in a riverbed.
The water becomes drinkable. Sweet. Like hope entering a parched soul.
Verse 26 – The conditional promise
God gives a command and a promise:
“If you listen, if you obey… I will put none of the diseases of Egypt on you. I am YHWH your healer.”
The name YHWH Rapha – יְהוָה רֹפְאֶךָ – “The LORD your healer.”
Greek: Kyrios ho iatros sou – the Lord your physician.
Healing isn’t only physical. Sometimes bitterness is the disease.
The people are learning that being freed from Egypt doesn’t yet mean Egypt is out of their hearts.
Verse 27 – The oasis of Elim
Twelve springs. Seventy palm trees.
Numbers that feel symbolic, peaceful.
You can hear the bubbling of water, the rustling fronds, maybe the sweet smell of dates. After the bitterness, this must have felt like a kiss from heaven. Sometimes God leads us through Marah to make us appreciate Elim.
Final Reflections
Exodus 15 is such a rollercoaster. It’s praise and trauma, dancing and dust, miracles and bitterness, music and murmuring. It’s so human. And honestly that’s what hits me hardest when I sit with it for long.
These people had just seen the greatest miracle of their lives—walls of water, dry seabed beneath their feet, chariots crushed like pottery shards. And yet three days later they’re grumbling because they can’t find water. And I get that. It’s easy to celebrate when deliverance is loud and spectacular. Harder when thirst hits and the wilderness feels larger than the promise.
The Hebrew words are sharp and colorful and earthy. The Greek translations make some phrases smoother but lose some of the gut-feeling texture. Hebrew gives sounds that feel like cracked stones, rushing wind, thundering hooves, trembling hearts. Greek gives clarity, but Hebrew gives heartbeat.
The chapter tastes like salt, smoke, and sweetness. It smells like sea spray and desert dust and date palms at the oasis. It sounds like tambourines half out of rhythm. It feels like relief and fear and exhaustion all knocking together in the chest.
And maybe that’s why I love this chapter so much. It doesn’t pretend humans become perfect when God rescues them. They still complain. They still fear. They still forget.
But God keeps leading anyway.
He heals the bitter waters. He heals the bitter heart.
And He plants His people.
And He reigns forever.
