We wake up to the realization that the world is not as we would like it to be.

A common experience, with diverse ways to react to it.

One man embarks on a quixotic crusade to change the world.

A second gives up the world for lost and retreats into whatever protective walls he can erect around himself and his loved ones.

A third takes the "practical" approach, accepting the world for what it is and doing his best under the circumstances.

A fourth recognizes his inability to deal with the situation and looks to a higher authority for guidance and aid.

Our forefathers experienced such a rude awakening on the seventh day after their exodus from Egypt.

Ten plagues had broken the might of the Egyptians and forced them to let the people go. After centuries of exile and slavery, Israel was headed toward Sinai to become G-d's chosen people and a "light to the nations," as G-d told Moses, "When you take this nation out of Egypt, you will serve G-d at this mountain" [Ex. 3:12].

But suddenly the Red Sea was before them, with Pharaoh's armies closing in from behind. The sea, too, seemed oblivious to the destiny of the new nation.

How did they react? The Midrash (Mechilta Ex. 14: 13-15) tells us that the Jews were divided into four camps.

Some said, "Let us throw ourselves into the sea." A second group said, "Let us return to Egypt." A third faction argued, "Let us wage war upon the Egyptians." Finally, a fourth camp advocated: "Let us pray to G-d."

Moses, however, rejected all four options, saying to the people, "Fear not, stand by and see the salvation of G-d, which He will show you today; for as you have seen Egypt this day, you shall not see them again, forever. G-d shall fight for you, and you shall be silent" [14:13-14].

"Fear not, stand by and see the salvation of G-d," is Moses' response to those in despair who wanted to plunge into the sea. "As you have seen Egypt this day, you shall not see them again," is addressed to those who advocated surrender and return to Egypt. "G-d shall fight for you," is the answer to those who wished to fight the Egyptians, and "you shall be silent" is Moses' rejection of those who said, "All we can do is pray."

What, then, are we to do when facing a hostile world and an unyielding sea?

"Speak to the children of Israel," said G-d to Moses, "they shall go forward" [14:15].

The road to Sinai was rife with obstacles and challenges. The same is true of the road from Sinai, our 3,000 year quest to apply the Torah's ethos and ideals to our world.

Now, as then, there are several possible responses to an adverse world. There is the "Let us throw ourselves into the sea" approach of those who despair of their ability to resist, much less impact, the big bad world out there. Let us plunge into the sea, they say, the sea of the Talmud, the sea of piety, the sea of religious life. Let us sever all contact with an apostate and promiscuous world. Let us build walls to protect ourselves from the alien winds out there, so we may foster the legacy of Sinai within.

Such an individual is known as a "tzaddik in peltz"-"a holy man in a fur coat." On a cold winter day: you can build a fire, or wrap yourself in fur. When the isolationist tzaddik is asked, "Why do you think only of conserving your own warmth? Why don't you build a fire to warm others as well?" he replies, "What's the use? Can I warm up the entire world?"

If you persist, pointing out that one fire can thaw several frozen people, who may, in turn, create enough fires to warm others, he doesn't understand. He's a perfectionist, who doesn't care for partial solutions. "It's hopeless," he sighs with sadness and retreats into his spiritual Atlantis.

A second "camp" says, "Let us return to Egypt." Plunging into the sea is not an option, argues the Submissive Jew. Our mission is to work with the world, not escape it. We'll just have to lower our expectations.

This Exodus was obviously a pipe dream. How could we presume to liberate ourselves from the rules and constraints that apply to everyone else? To be G-d's "chosen people" is nice, but let us not forget that we are a minority, dependent on the goodwill of the Pharaohs who hold sway in the real world.

It is our duty to influence the world. But then again, the Jew has many duties: it is his duty to pray three times a day, to give to charity, and observe the Shabbos. So we'll do what we have to. Yes, it's tough to keep all these laws while not to antagonizing the neighbors; but who said that being a Jew is easy?

A third response to an uncooperative world is the Fighter. He understands that it is wrong to escape the world, and equally wrong to submit to it. So he takes it on, both barrels blazing, striding through life with a holy chip on his shoulder, battling immorality, apostates, antisemites, "Hellenist" Jews, and non-fighting Jews.

Not for him is the escapism of the first camp or the subservience of the second--he knows that his cause is just, that G-d is on his side, that ultimately he will triumph. So if the world won't listen to reason, he'll knock some sense into it.

Finally, there is the Jew who looks at the world, looks at the first three camps, shrugs his shoulders and lifts his eyes to heaven. He knows that turning his back on the world is not the answer, neither is surrendering to its dictates and conventions. But he also knows that "The Torah was given to make peace in the world," that "Its ways are pleasant, and all its paths are peace."

"You hope to peacefully change the world?!" say the other three camps. "When was the last time you looked out the window? You might as well try to empty the ocean with a teaspoon."

"You're absolutely right," says the Praying Jew. "Realistically, there's no way. But who's being realistic?" "Do you know what the common denominator between all three of you is? Your assessments and strategies are all based on the natural reality. But we inhabit a higher reality. Is not Jewish existence a miracle? Ours is the world of the spirit, of the word."

"So your approach is to do nothing," they counter.

"Again you are employing the standards of the material world," answers the Praying Jew, "a world that views prayer as "doing nothing." But a single prayer from the heart, can achieve more than the most secure fortress, the most flattering diplomat, or the most powerful army."

And what does G-d say to the Jews? "Forward!"

True, it is important to safeguard and cultivate all that is pure and holy in the Jewish soul, to create an inviolable sanctum of G-dliness in one's own heart and community. True, there are times when we must deal with the world on its own terms. We must battle evil. And certainly, we must acknowledge that we cannot do it all on our own.

It is also true that each of these four approaches have their time and place. But none of them is the vision to guide our lives and define our relationship with the world. When the Jew is headed towards Sinai and is confronted with a hostile or indifferent world, his response must be to go forward.

Not to escape reality, not to submit to it, not to wage war, not to deal with it only on a spiritual level, but to go forward. Do another mitzvah, ignite another soul, take one more step toward your goal. Pharaoh's charioteers are breathing down your neck? A cold and impregnable sea bars your path? Don't look up, look forward. See that mountain? Move toward it.

And when we proceed, that barrier will yield and that threat will fade. We have it within our power to reach our goal. Even if we have to split some seas. If only we move forward.