Exodus 15:2–5

Exodus 15:2 — "Yah is my strength and song"

The divine name "Yah" — the shortened, intimate form of "Yahweh" — appears here with striking force. This is one of its earliest occurrences in the Hebrew Bible and carries tremendous weight: the God who revealed His personal name to Moses at the burning bush (Ex 3:14–15) is now being praised by name by an entire liberated people. The word translated "strength" ('ozzi) implies not merely power in the abstract but my power — God's might appropriated personally by the one who sings. The coupling of "strength" and "song" (zimrat) is remarkable: the same God who acts militarily is the God who inspires lyrical praise. He is the content and the cause of the song simultaneously. The verse continues with "He has become my salvation" (yeshu'ati) — in Hebrew, the very word from which the name "Yeshua" (Jesus) derives. The early Church Fathers heard this not as coincidence but as prophetic resonance: the God of the Exodus is the God of the New Exodus wrought in Christ.

Exodus 15:3 — "Yahweh is a man of war"

This is one of the most theologically daring affirmations in all of Scripture. The God who transcends all creation is here described in the most viscerally human martial terms: ish milhamah, "a man of war." Ancient Near Eastern readers would have recognized this as the highest praise — warrior-gods such as Marduk or Baal were celebrated for their battles. But the Song of the Sea subverts the convention: Yahweh does not fight like the gods of Egypt; He displaces them entirely. Pharaoh, who claimed divine status as a son of Ra, is here implicitly de-throned. Yahweh's name is declared at the close of this verse — "Yahweh is His name" — as if to insist that this warrior has a personal identity, a covenant name, not merely a title. This is not an anonymous force of nature. Catholic tradition, beginning with Origen, reads this "man of war" as foreshadowing the Incarnate Son, who wages war not with bronze and iron but with the Cross. The Catechism echoes this: "The mystery of Christ is at the centre of catechesis" (CCC 426), and this warrior-God finds His fullest revelation in the One who overcomes sin and death.

Exodus 15:4 — "He has cast Pharaoh's chariots and his army into the sea"

Here the hymn becomes historical testimony. Chariots were the ancient world's premier weapons system — the equivalent of tanks or air superiority in modern warfare. Egypt possessed hundreds; Israel possessed none. The verb yarah ("cast" or "hurled") is the same root as Torah (instruction/law) — a detail noted by rabbinical commentators and not lost on patristic readers who saw in the Law itself a weapon wielded by God. The specificity of "Pharaoh's chariots and his army" grounds the song in real history: this is not myth but memory. The Church has always insisted on the historical reality of the Exodus as the foundation of its typological reading — you cannot allegorize away the historical event without destroying the theology built upon it (cf. CCC 117, on the four senses, which always build upon the literal/historical sense).

Exodus 15:5 — "The deeps cover them"

Tehomot — "the deeps" — is the same word used in Genesis 1:2 for the primordial chaos over which the Spirit of God hovered at creation. The enemy army is not merely defeated; it is swallowed back into chaos, into non-being. This is de-creation language applied to the forces of oppression. The great anti-Exodus force — Pharaoh's military might — returns to the formless deep from which creation emerged. St. Ambrose and later St. Thomas Aquinas saw in this submersion the typological image of Baptism: the waters that destroy Pharaoh's army are the same waters that destroy sin. The enemy goes down; the redeemed come up. This symmetry is not incidental but the interpretive key the New Testament itself provides (1 Cor 10:1–2).

Catholic tradition brings at least three distinct theological lenses to these verses that no purely historical-critical reading can supply.

The Warrior God and the Incarnation. The bold declaration that "Yahweh is a man of war" receives its ultimate hermeneutical key in the Incarnation. Origen (Homilies on Exodus, VI) was the first to argue systematically that the divine warrior of the Exodus is the pre-incarnate Logos doing battle against the spiritual powers that enslave humanity. The Catechism teaches that the Old Testament events "were written down for our instruction" (CCC 117, citing 1 Cor 10:11), and that Christ recapitulates all of salvation history. The warrior who defeats Pharaoh is the same Lord who, in St. Paul's words, "disarmed the principalities and powers" on the Cross (Col 2:15).

The Baptismal Typology. The Second Vatican Council's Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy (Sacrosanctum Concilium, 6) affirms that the crossing of the Red Sea is a "foreshadowing" of Baptism. The Catechism states explicitly: "The crossing of the Red Sea literally prefigures... liberation from sin through Baptism" (CCC 1221). The "deeps" that cover Egypt's army are the same waters in which sin is drowned for the baptized. This reading, found already in St. Paul (1 Cor 10:1–2), was developed by Sts. Ambrose, Cyril of Jerusalem, and Augustine into a rich baptismal catechesis: the Christian enters the water with Christ and emerges no longer enslaved.

Liturgical Praise as Theological Act. The Exsultet of the Easter Vigil — arguably the Church's greatest liturgical poem — draws directly on this passage and its surrounding context. The Church's most solemn night of the year is theologically structured around the Song of the Sea. This signals how deeply Catholic worship is rooted in the Exodus event: praise for God's saving acts is not sentiment but dogma sung aloud. The name "Yah" — intimate, personal, covenantal — anticipates the revelation of the name of Jesus, in whom, as St. Peter declares, "there is salvation" (Acts 4:12).

A contemporary Catholic can easily reduce God to a benign spiritual presence — comforting but not combative, affirming but never triumphant. These four verses correct that domestication. Yahweh is unambiguously described as a warrior who acts decisively against the powers that oppress His people. For a Catholic today, this means recognizing that the spiritual life involves genuine conflict — with sin, with the "principalities and powers" of which St. Paul speaks, with the structures of a culture that can be as relentless as Pharaoh's chariots.

The practical application is this: when you feel overwhelmed by habitual sin, addiction, spiritual desolation, or forces in your life that seem invincible, recall verse 4. Pharaoh's chariots were invincible too — until they met the sea that God commanded. The Sacrament of Baptism has already drowned your deepest oppressor; Confession renews that drowning again and again.

Additionally, verse 2 invites you to make praise a discipline before it becomes a feeling. Israel sang this hymn when they had just come through exhaustion, terror, and decades of slavery. They sang before they had food, water, or a homeland. Praise here is an act of theological conviction, not emotional ease. Catholics are called to the same — to sing the Gloria, pray the Te Deum, and proclaim God's greatness especially in the deserts that come after crossing.