All of Pharaoh's army, his chariots and charioteers, are pursuing the Israelites headlong into the Red Sea, until at the Lord's command, Moses streches out his hand and the sea engulfs the entire Egyptian army. "Fear not! Stand your ground!" he cries.
Day and night, God leads the Israelites through the desert, guiding them by day in the form of a cloud and by night, as a pillar of fire.
Still, they grumble: "Would that we had died at the Lord's hand in the land of Egypt, as we sat by our fleshpots and ate our fill of bread!"
The Israelites (and we, too) have seen the marvels of God, have been lead by him daily, are fed with bread from heaven; yet we, too, wish we could just be fat and happy, slaves to our passions. We complain to God that he redeems us only to kill us some other way. We are always petulantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Just as faithful Jews re-tell the ancient story of the Passover each year, so too, should we remind ourselves of the story that each of us experiences in our own life: the journey that begins by our coming through the waters of Baptism, freed from the bondage of sin and death, led by God through the desert, heading toward the Promised Land.