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God Set a Fixed Term on Egypt's Power Over Abraham's Children

At the covenant between the pieces, God told Abraham exactly how long Egypt would hold his children. The clock started before the slavery began.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Pieces on the Ground
  2. The Limit That Could Not Be Exceeded
  3. Pharaoh Checks His Register
  4. The Arithmetic of Exile

The Pieces on the Ground

Abraham splits the animals down the middle, arranges the halves across from one another, and waits. The birds of prey swoop toward the carcasses and he drives them off. Then the sun starts going down and a deep sleep falls on him. With the sleep comes dread, a great darkness, and a voice.

Know well that your offspring shall be strangers in a land not theirs, and they shall be enslaved and oppressed four hundred years. But I will execute judgment on the nation they shall serve, and in the end they shall go free with great wealth.

This is not a warning. It is a calendar. God is not predicting what might happen if Abraham's children wander in the wrong direction. God is setting a fixed term, an architectural limit built into the covenant itself, a ceiling on what Egypt will be permitted to do. The suffering is real and it is bounded. Egypt's power over Abraham's descendants has a number attached to it, and the number is four hundred.

The Limit That Could Not Be Exceeded

Rabbi Chakhinai, whose teaching Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer preserves on this point, understood the fixing of that term as something more than foreknowledge. God was not simply seeing the future and describing it. God was setting a limit that could not be exceeded. The suffering had a ceiling. No matter what Pharaoh built in the way of cruelty, no matter how many taskmasters stood over the brickyards, the oppression would end when the appointed number was reached and not one moment later.

Two things follow from this that the rabbinic tradition found worth pressing. The first is that the covenant with Abraham is the source of Israel's redemption, not just its explanation. Egypt does not release Israel because the Israelites earned freedom, or because Moses argued cleverly, or even because the plagues became unbearable. Egypt releases Israel because a term established generations earlier expires. The promise is structural.

The second thing is harder. If the term was four hundred years, but the actual bondage in Egypt was shorter, the tradition had to account for the gap. The rabbis counted differently. They counted from the birth of Isaac, the first of Abraham's offspring to be a stranger in a land not his own, born to a father who was himself a stranger among Canaanites.

Pharaoh Checks His Register

When the demand to let Israel go reaches Pharaoh, the tradition imagines him consulting his records. He searches for the God of Israel in his register of the gods of the nations. He reads through lists of territorial deities, patron powers of cities and rivers and trades. Israel's God is not there. He is not a god of a place or a function. Pharaoh's bureaucracy has no category for what Moses is invoking.

That search and its failure are part of how the rabbis understood the plagues. Pharaoh does not refuse out of ignorance in the simple sense. He refuses because his entire conceptual framework for what gods are and how they operate has no room for the kind of God who set a fixed term in a covenant made generations ago and now comes to collect. Every plague is a demonstration that God operates outside the categories Pharaoh inherited.

The Arithmetic of Exile

The four hundred years and four hundred thirty years appear to conflict. Genesis says four hundred. The Exodus narrative says four hundred thirty years passed from the time Israel came to Egypt until the day they left. The tradition inherited both numbers and had to hold them together.

The resolution is elegant and unsettling at the same time. The four hundred thirty years counts from Abraham himself, from the moment God first spoke the covenant promise. The four hundred years counts from the birth of Isaac. The actual time in Egypt, when the crushing slavery was at its worst, was two hundred ten years. All three numbers are true. Each counts from a different starting point, which means the question of when the oppression began depends entirely on where the beginning of the story is placed.

The tradition chose to place it with Abraham, in the darkness and the deep sleep, in the moment God divided the covenant with fire and made a promise that would outlast every empire it named.

AbrahamExileEgyptBabylonMidrash AggadahProphecyCovenant
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From the tradition

Sources

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The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 49:6Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer

The divine is often remembered as existing outside of time, but Jewish tradition sometimes paints a different picture – one where even divine plans have a schedule, albeit a flexible one. to this a bit, drawing from the ancient text, Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, specifically chapter 49. This text offers a unique perspective on the limits, or rather, the lack of limits, set on earthly kingdoms by the Holy One. According to Rabbi Chakhinai, God doesn't set fixed limits on kingdoms… except for two very specific cases: the Egyptian bondage and the Babylonian kingdom.

Why these two? Remember the story of Abraham? God tells him, "And they shall serve them; and they shall afflict them four hundred years" (Genesis 15:13). Four hundred years of suffering! A seemingly fixed deadline. But Rabbi Chakhinai tells us that God, in His infinite mercy, shortened this period by almost half. The Israelites were actually enslaved for 210 years.

So, what about the Babylonian kingdom? The prophet Jeremiah declares, "For thus saith the Lord, After seventy years be accomplished for Babylon, I will visit you, and perform my good word toward you, in causing you to return to this place" (Jeremiah 29:10). Seventy years. A clear limit.

Think about this for a moment. Why these two kingdoms? What's so special about them that God would impose a time limit? Perhaps it's because these periods of subjugation served a specific purpose in the spiritual development of the Jewish people. The suffering in Egypt forged them into a nation. The exile in Babylon tested their faith and ultimately led to a renewed commitment to God and Torah.

It seems Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer is suggesting that while God generally allows kingdoms to rise and fall according to the natural order, He intervenes when necessary to guide His people towards their destiny. He sets limits when those limits are crucial for spiritual growth. And even then, as in the case of Egypt, that divine plan may be tempered with mercy.

What does this tell us? Maybe that even God's plans aren't set in stone. Maybe there's always room for compassion, for adjustment, for shortening the suffering when possible. It's a comforting thought, isn't it? That even amidst the grand sweep of history, divine mercy can find a way to bend the arc of time itself.

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Legends of the Jews 5:125Legends of the Jews

The Torah touches on this in the Brit Bein Habetarim (ברית בין הבתרים), the Covenant Between the Pieces, in Genesis 15. But the story doesn't end there. The Legends of the Jews fills in some fascinating details, giving us a glimpse into a profound vision Abraham himself experienced.

Abraham is preparing sacrifices, a sacred act of devotion. As the sun dips below the horizon, a deep slumber overtakes him. But this is no ordinary sleep; it’s a divinely granted vision, a window into the future of his descendants.

What does he see? He beholds a terrifying image: a smoking furnace, none other than Gehenna (גהנם), the Jewish concept akin to hell, the place God prepares for the wicked. Then, a flaming torch appears, representing the revelation at Sinai, where the entire nation witnessed fiery displays of God’s power. He sees the sacrifices that Israel will offer, a continuation of his own sacred service. And finally, a chilling darkness descends, the oppression of four kingdoms that will rule over his people. Then, God speaks to Abraham. According to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, God explains that as long as Abraham's children uphold two crucial duties – studying the Torah (תורה), and performing the Temple service – they will be spared the horrors of Gehenna and foreign domination. But if they neglect these duties, they will face these very punishments.

Here’s the kicker: Abraham is given a choice. Should his descendants suffer punishment in Gehenna, or through subjugation by foreign powers?

Can you imagine the weight of that decision? All day long, Abraham struggles, torn between these two terrible options. Finally, God intervenes, urging him to choose the dominion of the stranger.

Why?

Perhaps because earthly suffering, while painful, is temporary. As we find in Midrash Rabbah, the bondage of Israel in Egypt for four hundred years was revealed to him, calculated from the birth of Isaac. It was also revealed that Abraham himself would not experience the full brunt of this oppression. A promise was given that he would go to his fathers in peace. At the same time, his father Terah, who had repented for his sins, would have a share in the world to come.

Abraham learns that his son Ishmael will find righteousness during Abraham's lifetime, and his grandson Esau will not begin his wicked ways until after Abraham's death. It’s a interplay of good and bad, of promise and suffering, all interwoven.

But the vision doesn't end with doom and gloom. Just as Abraham received the prophecy of his descendants' enslavement, he also received the assurance of their ultimate deliverance. God would judge the four kingdoms and ultimately destroy them.

So, what are we to make of this ancient story? Is it a comforting tale? A terrifying warning? Perhaps it's both. It reminds us that our choices have consequences, not just for ourselves, but for generations to come. And it offers a glimmer of hope, a promise that even in the darkest of times, redemption is always possible. The Zohar tells us that even the darkest night eventually gives way to dawn.

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Yalkut Shimoni on Torah 175:1Yalkut Shimoni on Torah

Rabbi Chiyya bar Abba said: it was a coronation day [yom genusya], and all the kings were coming and crowning him, for he was a world-ruler, and Moses and Aaron were standing at the entrance of the palace. They entered to Pharaoh and said to him, "Two old men are standing at the entrance of your palace." He said to them, "Do they have crowns in their hands?" They said to him, "No." He said to them, "Let them enter last." They entered to Pharaoh. He said to them, "What do you seek?" They said to him, "The God of the Hebrews has sent me to you" (Exodus 7:16), "Send out My people that they may celebrate a feast to Me in the wilderness." He said to them, "Who is the LORD that I should heed His voice" (Exodus 5:2), and He did not even know how to send me a crown of His own, but came to me only with words? "Who is the LORD that I should heed His voice?" Rabbi Levi said: at that hour he brought out the register [diftera] of deities and read out, "the god of Edom, Moab, and Sidon," and said to them, "Behold, I have read and I do not find what you speak of." Rabbi Levi said: to what is the matter comparable? To a priest who had a slave. The priest went out from the province, and his slave went to seek him among the graves. He began to cry out, "My master! My master!" They said to him, "Who is your master?" He said to them, "So-and-so the priest." They said to him, "Fool of the world, do you seek a priest in a cemetery?" So Pharaoh said to Moses, "Who is the LORD? I have brought out the register of deities and sought Him within it and did not find Him." He said to him, "Fool of the world, the deities in your hand are dead, but our God is living and enduring," as it is said (Jeremiah 10:10), "But the LORD God is truth; He is the living God and the everlasting King."

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Targum Pseudo-Jonathan on Exodus 12:40Targum Pseudo-Jonathan on Exodus

One of the great numerical puzzles of the Torah is solved openly by Targum Pseudo-Jonathan on (Exodus 12:40). The Hebrew says Israel lived in Mizraim for four hundred thirty years. But the genealogies do not add up to that number. Kehath, Levi's son, went down to Egypt, and his grandson Moses came back out. That is three generations, not the twelve or fifteen you would expect across four centuries.

The Targum resolves the tension with precision. The actual sojourn in Egypt was "thirty weeks of years", thirty times seven, which is two hundred ten years. The full four hundred thirty years began earlier, from the hour the Lord spoke with Abraham on the fifteenth of Nisan, between the divided parts of the covenantal sacrifice (Genesis 15:17). The clock of exile started at the brit bein habetarim, the Covenant Between the Pieces, not at the descent to Egypt.

This reading preserves both the Torah's number and the genealogical arithmetic. Israel spent 210 years physically in Egypt. But the exile began the moment Abraham was told his descendants would be strangers in a land not their own. The rabbis saw this as a deep statement about how time is measured. God counts not from the arrival of the first slave but from the promise that once foretold him.

The Targum also notes that the Covenant Between the Pieces fell on the fifteenth of Nisan, the very date on which Israel would later leave Egypt. Abraham had stood with the torches moving between the animal halves on the same night that his descendants would later walk out under cover of the clouds of glory.

Takeaway: Israel was in Mizraim for 210 years. The exile itself lasted 430, dating from Abraham's vision. God had been counting for centuries before the bricks were even made.

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Legends of the Jews, V. Abraham, The Covenant Of The PiecesLegends of the Jews

God revealed Himself to Abraham shortly after, to ease his conscience about the spilling of innocent blood, a scruple that caused him great anguish. God assured him that pious men would arise from his descendants, shielding their generations just as he had.

That wasn't all. God granted Abraham a rare gift: the permission to ask for anything he desired – a grace given to very few others, including Jacob, Solomon, Ahaz, and even the Messiah.

Abraham, ever mindful of his future generations, responded, "O Lord of the world, if in time to come my descendants should provoke Thy wrath, it were better I remained childless!" He even suggested that Lot, for whose sake he had journeyed to Damascus, would make a fine heir. Abraham, after all, believed he had read in the stars that he would have no children.

God, in a powerful moment, raised Abraham above the vault of the skies and declared, "Thou art a prophet, not an astrologer!"

Abraham, convinced, didn't even demand a sign regarding offspring. His simple faith earned him a share in this world and the world to come. The redemption of Israel from exile would be a reward for his unwavering trust.

However, Abraham, while believing in the promise, still wanted to know how his descendants would maintain themselves. Therefore, God instructed him to bring a sacrifice: three heifers, three she-goats, three rams, a turtle dove, and a young pigeon. These animals, God explained, represented the various sacrifices to be brought in the Beit Hamikdash, the Temple, to atone for Israel's sins and ensure their well-being.

But what would become of them, Abraham asked, after the Temple’s destruction? God responded that if they read the order of sacrifices as written in the Scriptures, He would consider it as if they had offered the sacrifices, forgiving their sins.

Then, God revealed to Abraham the sweep of Israel's history and the history of the world itself. According to tradition, the three-year-old heifer symbolized the dominion of Babylon, the she-goat represented the Greek empire, and the ram stood for the Medo-Persian power. The rule of Ishmael was also represented by a ram, and Israel was symbolized by the innocent dove.

Abraham took the animals and divided them in the middle, a symbolic act that, had it not been performed, would have left Israel unable to resist the power of the four kingdoms. The birds, however, he did not divide, signifying that Israel would remain whole. When birds of prey descended upon the carcasses, Abraham drove them away, foreshadowing the arrival of the Messiah, who would cut down the heathen. Yet, Abraham bid the Messiah to wait until the appointed time.

This scene, often called the Brit Bein Habetarim, the Covenant of the Pieces, is described in Genesis 15.

Not only was the Messianic time revealed to Abraham, but also the time of the resurrection of the dead. As he arranged the halves of the animals, they miraculously came back to life as the bird flew over them.

While preparing these sacrifices, Abraham received a vision of profound significance. As the sun set, a deep sleep fell upon him, and he saw a smoking furnace – Gehenna, the place God prepares for sinners. He also beheld a flaming torch, representing the revelation at Sinai, where the people saw flaming torches. He saw the sacrifices to be brought by Israel. And then, an "horror of great darkness" fell upon him, symbolizing the dominion of the four kingdoms.

God spoke to Abraham, explaining that as long as his children fulfilled the two duties of studying the Torah and performing the service in the Temple, they would be spared Gehenna and alien rule. However, if they neglected these duties, they would suffer the consequences. God then offered Abraham a choice: punishment through Gehenna or through the dominion of strangers.

All day long, Abraham wavered. Finally, God urged him to decide on one, and to choose the dominion of the stranger. Then, God revealed the four hundred years of bondage in Egypt, reckoning from the birth of Isaac. However, Abraham himself was promised that he would go to his fathers in peace, untouched by the arrogance of the oppressor.

As we find in Midrash Rabbah, it was also revealed to Abraham that his father, Terah, would have a share in the world to come, having repented for his sins. Ishmael would turn toward righteousness while his father was still alive, and Esau would not begin his impious ways until after Abraham’s death.

And so, alongside the promise of deliverance, Abraham received the announcement of slavery for his descendants in a foreign land. But it was also revealed to him that God would judge the four kingdoms and ultimately destroy them.

The Covenant of the Pieces, then, is not just a story about sacrifice and prophecy. It's a story about faith, responsibility, and the enduring relationship between God and Israel. It's a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there is always hope for redemption. And perhaps most powerfully, it is a reassurance that our actions, both good and bad, have consequences that ripple through generations. What kind of legacy are we building today?

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