January 15th: Va’era
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
One of the main themes of Exodus is that God wants us to treat each other fairly and with both righteousness and compassion. It is an underlying theme of the story of our redemption from Egypt, and it continues in the revelation at Mount Sinai (both in the Ten Commandments and in the subsequent commandments of Exodus 21-23). God expects good behavior from us. Of course, we can turn this around and have a similar expectation about God. Remember Abraham’s passionate questioning of the Divine in Genesis (18): “Will not the Judge of all the world do justly?”
We Israelites are happy with God’s justice in freeing us from Egypt, but there is something troubling about God’s justice in re the Egyptians. Notice God’s plan when the whole process is explained to Moses: “…you and your brother Aaron shall speak to Pharaoh to let the Israelites depart from his land. But I will harden Pharaoh’s heart, that I may multiply My signs and marvels in the land of Egypt. When Pharaoh does not heed you, I will lay My hand upon Egypt and deliver My ranks, My people, the Israelites, from the land of Egypt with extraordinary chastisements. And the Egyptians shall know that I am the Lord, when I stretch out My hand over Egypt and bring out the Israelites from their midst.” (Exodus 7.2-8)
This hardening of Pharaoh’s heart does not seem fair. Fair would be demanding that Pharaoh let the Israelites go and then judging him on his response. If he lets them go, then he and his country should not be punished. If he persists in his sin of enslaving others, then he deserves to be punished. However, from the very beginning of the story, God plans to “harden Pharaoh’s heart,” forcing Pharaoh to continue his evil and thus merit more punishment. Where is God’s justice here—and in the stories of the plagues that will follow?! When Moses demands “Let My people go!”, why is not Pharaoh given the chance to comply?
There are a number of ways to approach this question, but two stand out to me as most helpful. The first was taught by the late Professor Herbert Chanan Brichto of the Hebrew Union College. He used to interpret the phrase “harden Pharaoh’s heart” as a kind of exasperated bewilderment on the part of the ancient narrator. Given the successive disasters visited upon Egypt, there seems to be no rationale reason for Pharaoh continuing to refuse Israelite freedom. Idiomatically throwing his hands up, the Biblical narrator attributes Pharaoh’s behavior to a non-earthly source. “It must be God hardening his heart! There is no other possible reason!” As Dr. Brichto would explain, today we would say that he is “crazy”—not so much as a psychological diagnosis but as a reaction to an utterly unexplainable response.
A second approach comes from Tradition and expands the context of Pharaoh’s sins. Enslaving, oppressing, and murdering thousands of people is not a simple or accidental sin. Pharaoh and his ancestors have been pursuing this horrible breach of morality continually and systematically for many generations. Much like God’s comment to Cain (Genesis 4.10), “What have your done? Hark, your brother’s blood cries out to Me from the ground!”, the sins of the Egyptians are obvious and habitual. The awareness of their immorality and the need to repent has been evident for years. Now is not the time for a moral reckoning; that time is long past. Now is the time for an object lesson—a time to instruct the entire nation and the rest of the world and the rest of history that such cruelty and unrighteousness are not acceptable. So, at the point of Moses’ entry into the story as God’s prophet, the point is punishment. With the Ten Plagues, God will show that the “God-King” Pharaoh is not so powerful and not in control—that he is helpless to protect his land and people. Notice God’s intention: “I will harden Pharaoh’s heart, that I may multiply My signs and marvels in the land of Egypt.” If one were to compare this to a criminal trial—with the trial, the verdict, the sentencing, and the punishment, Moses is sent for the punishment phase.
In other words, the story does not describe God’s injustice but rather human sin and irrationality—our unwillingness to fix ourselves.
These are important lessons for this season in our secular world. This coming Monday is Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, a day dedicated to our nation’s long-time struggle to see the full humanity in every person. One of our country’s original and primary principles—“That all men are created equal” and “that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights,” including “Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness”—has been a goal aborning for over 200 years. It began as a principle interpreted narrowly, and it is to our credit that our communal awareness has grown to include millions of the formerly unacknowledged—enslaved Africans, women, Jews, Catholics, LGBT individuals, the disabled, Muslims, etc. –as full members of humanity. From a tragic Mitzrayim (Egypt/Narrowness), our understanding of and embrace of humanity has grown profoundly. We have made substantial progress, but, as Dr. King reminds us, there is much more work to be done.
How fast do we push that progress? How much patience needs to be exercised? How is the goal best communicated, i.e., how are those resisting progress best persuaded? And, how can progress for one group not result in threats to another? Dr. King’s life and career show the complexity of the task, and his “Letter From a Birmingham Jail” shows a microcosm of the complexity of strategic thinking. He is arguing with friends and colleagues about when and where to stage demonstrations. Even those who agree in principle may disagree about particular strategies.
We stand—as Americans and as citizens of the world—somewhere between that first Pharaoh “Who knew not Joseph” and the final Pharaoh in the Exodus story who waited too long to make things right. I do not see plagues descending on our country from Heaven, but I do see the continuing tragedy of dehumanization to which no one should be a party. “What have you done? Hark, your brother’s blood cries out to Me from the ground!”
Every year—actually many times a year, we Jews reflect on the Exodus and its lessons. We know what it is like to be a slave. Let us pursue the transformation that the story can effect. Let us join in the eternal call of “Let My people go!” as speakers, persuaders, and workers.