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The Angel Who Turned the Sword and the Scribe Beside Every Mouth

Devarim Rabbah shows one angel turning a sword to marble at Moses's neck and an unseen scribe standing beside every mouth that defames a neighbor.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. Why Moses Rushed to Set Aside the Cities of Refuge
  2. How Solomon's Verse Became Marble at a Prophet's Neck
  3. The Scribe Who Stands Beside Every Mouth
  4. When the Record Comes Due

Moses has just killed an Egyptian taskmaster. He has buried the body in the sand and believed he acted in secret. But the next morning two Hebrews are fighting, and when he tries to intervene, one of them says: who made you a ruler over us? Are you going to kill me the way you killed the Egyptian?

Pharaoh hears about it. The word goes out. Moses runs.

He did not know, until the moment of flight, that he was running not only from Pharaoh's sword but toward something Devarim Rabbah is determined to explain: the architecture of angelic protection that kept him alive to reach the mountain.

Why Moses Rushed to Set Aside the Cities of Refuge

Decades later, when Moses is legislating the cities of refuge on the eastern side of the Jordan, he moves with unusual urgency. The law requires cities of asylum for accidental killers, and Moses sets aside three on the eastern bank before the Israelites have even crossed the river, before the three western cities could be functioning.

Rabbi Levi explains the urgency with a proverb: one who has tasted the dish knows its flavor. Moses killed a man. He understood what it meant to flee under the shadow of a death sentence. He understood the terror of a fugitive who does not know whether the pursuers are closer than they were an hour ago. When he legislated protection for the accidental killer, he was not working from abstract principle. He was working from memory.

The city of refuge is autobiographical. It is the law that Moses wrote from inside the experience of needing it, and the urgency with which he established it before any city on the western side was functional tells us something about what he carried from that Egyptian morning all the way into his last legislative acts on the plains of Moav.

How Solomon's Verse Became Marble at a Prophet's Neck

Devarim Rabbah does not stop with the explanation of Moses's urgency. It reaches for a verse from the Song of Songs to answer a deeper question: how did Moses survive the flight at all? Pharaoh's soldiers were behind him. The wilderness was in front of him. The ordinary logic of pursuit and escape does not account for the outcome.

The verse from the Song describes the beloved's neck as a tower of ivory. The midrash reads this as a description of what happened when Pharaoh's sword came for Moses in the wilderness. The angel of the Holy One placed itself between the blade and the prophet's neck. When the sword arrived, it struck not flesh but something that had become marble: the neck of a man under divine protection. The sword could not penetrate it. The soldiers who carried the sword could not understand why the blade bounced off a human throat.

Moses escaped because his neck had been made into a tower of ivory by the same protective logic that would later produce the cities of refuge. The angel who hardened the neck was doing the same work that the city walls would later do: creating an enclosure where the force of lethal pursuit ran out before it could complete its work.

The Scribe Who Stands Beside Every Mouth

The second passage turns from protection to prosecution. Solomon's verse in Ecclesiastes warns that a bird of heaven will carry the words spoken against a king. Devarim Rabbah reads this through the lens of slander against an ordinary neighbor.

An unseen scribe stands beside every mouth that defames someone. Not just beside the mouths of the wicked but beside every mouth, because defamation does not require the intent to destroy. It requires only the casual word, the story repeated with more detail than caution, the description of a neighbor's failing in the presence of someone who did not need to know it. The scribe records all of it.

When the Record Comes Due

The record does not wait for Judgment Day. In some accounts, the consequence arrives inside the life of the speaker, in the way relationships curdle after slander has moved through them, in the way a community that lives on harmful speech eventually poisons the air that all its members breathe. But the cosmic record is also kept, and the angel who transcribes what the mouth produces is not selective. Every word that defames goes into the account.


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Devarim Rabbah 2:29Devarim Rabbah

Rabbi Levi offers a compelling insight: "One who ate the dish knows its taste." In other words, Moses' own experiences, his own brushes with danger and the law, gave him a unique understanding of the need for such places of sanctuary.

Remember when Moses killed the Egyptian? The story continues that the next day, he encountered Datan and Aviram quarreling. As it says in (Exodus 2:13), "He emerged on the second day, and behold, two Hebrew men were fighting." Rabbi Aivu identifies Datan as the "wicked one" who then challenged Moses with the accusatory question: "Do you propose to kill me?" (Exodus 2:14).

This accusation reached Pharaoh, who, had been patient until now. "How many things have I heard and been silent," Pharaoh supposedly said. "Now that he has arrived at bloodshed, apprehend him." So, how did Moses escape?

Rabbi Yannai paints a dramatic picture: when the executioner's sword came down on Moses' neck, it miraculously blunted, turning his neck into marble! A evidence of divine protection, perhaps echoed in Solomon's words in the Song of Songs (7:5): "Your neck is like an ivory tower." Rabbi Evyatar adds a twist: the sword not only failed to harm Moses, but it rebounded and struck the executioner! He finds support for this in (Exodus 18:4), where Moses says, "He delivered me from the sword of Pharaoh" – implying, according to Rabbi Evyatar, that the executioner wasn't so lucky. Bar Kappara suggests an angel, appearing as Moses, facilitated his escape, confusing the Egyptians. Rabbi Yehoshua further emphasizes the miraculous nature of Moses' flight, noting that God rendered some of Pharaoh's scholars mute, deaf, or blind, ensuring Moses' safe passage.

All this leads to a powerful point. When God later sought to send Moses on his mission, Moses hesitated. But God reassured him, reminding him of the miracles he had already performed. As we find in (Exodus 4:11), "The Lord said to him: Who gives a mouth to a person, or who renders one mute, or deaf, or sighted, or blind?" The implication being: If God stood with Moses then, He would stand with him now.

Rabbi Yitzchak then offers a beautiful reflection on the difference between human patrons and God's protection. A mortal patron might offer protection, but their reach is limited. When someone is on trial, the patron might intervene. But when the execution is underway? Where is the patron then? But the Holy One, blessed be He, is different. Even as Moses stood before Pharaoh, facing execution, God delivered him. As it says in (Exodus 18:4), "He delivered me from the sword of Pharaoh."

The passage continues with similar examples: Daniel in the lions' den, Abraham in the fiery furnace, Jonah swallowed by the whale. In each case, a mortal patron would be powerless. But God's protection transcends all earthly limitations. Daniel was saved because "My God sent His angel, and he shut the lions’ mouths" (Daniel 6:23). Abraham was rescued from the furnace, as God declares in (Genesis 15:7), "I am the Lord, who took you out of Ur of the Chaldeans" – Ur also meaning "fire" in this context. And Jonah was released from the belly of the fish, because "The Lord spoke to the fish, and it spewed Jonah upon the dry land" (Jonah 2:11).

Finally, we return to the cities of refuge. Rabbi Aivu suggests that when Moses fled, he sang a song of praise, just as the Israelites sang at the well (Numbers 21:17). Rabbi Levi adds that Moses sang because the concept of the city of refuge, a place for those who had unintentionally killed someone, was now in effect through him. His own experience of fleeing after killing the Egyptian gave him a profound understanding of the need for such a system of justice and mercy.

So, what does all this tell us? Perhaps it's that true leadership comes from a place of lived experience, from understanding the nuances of justice and mercy, and from recognizing the constant, unwavering protection that God offers, even in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds. And maybe, just maybe, it's a reminder that even our mistakes can shape us into instruments of divine purpose.

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Devarim Rabbah 6:10Devarim Rabbah

We all have. But what if those words had far more power than we imagined? What if they could actually… physically harm us?

Devarim Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic teachings and interpretations on the Book of Deuteronomy, dives deep into exactly this idea. It centers on the verse from (Ecclesiastes 5:5), "Do not allow your mouth to bring sin upon your flesh." Seems straightforward enough. But the Rabbis unpack this verse with layers of meaning, revealing the profound consequences of lashon hara, malicious speech.

You're gossiping, maybe even just complaining a little. You think, "Who will know? It's just between us." But according to Devarim Rabbah, that's where you're wrong. "Do not allow your mouth," the text says. What does this mean? The Rabbis explain that once you utter malicious speech, it commits a sin against your own body! It can cause affliction, specifically tzara'at, often translated as leprosy. Think of it – your words, turning inward, causing physical harm.

It gets even more intense. The verse continues, "and do not say before the angel that it was a mistake." (Ecclesiastes 5:5). This isn't just about keeping secrets. The Holy One, blessed be He, knows everything. The Rabbis suggest that God sends an angel to stand beside you, recording every negative thing you say about another person. We find support for this idea in (Ecclesiastes 10:20), "Even in your thoughts, do not curse a king." Why? "Because a bird of the heavens will carry the voice, and a winged creature will tell the matter."

Now, this "winged creature," as the Rabbis point out, could refer to the angels themselves! Angels, like those described in (Isaiah 6:2), as having "six wings to each one." They are the messengers, the recorders, the witnesses to our words.

The consequences of lashon hara don't stop there. "Why should God become angry at your voice," the verse asks, "and destroy your handiwork?" (Ecclesiastes 5:5). That "handiwork," according to this interpretation, refers to your own body, susceptible to affliction because of your harmful speech.

Think this is just a theoretical warning? Devarim Rabbah offers a stark example: Miriam. Remember Miriam, the sister of Moses? She spoke negatively about Moses, and as a result, she was afflicted. "Remember what the Lord your God did…" the text reminds us, emphasizing the direct link between her words and her suffering.

This story isn't just about avoiding gossip. It's a powerful reminder of the immense responsibility we have for the words we speak. They have the power to build up or tear down, to heal or to harm, not just others, but ourselves as well. The rabbis wanted us to understand the potential power of speech, to use it carefully, and to remember that we are never truly alone when we speak. Our words echo in the heavens, recorded and remembered. So the question remains: what kind of echo do you want to leave behind?

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Legends of the Jews 6:117Legends of the Jews

It's an idea deeply rooted in our tradition, and it takes center stage in the story of the cities of refuge.

We find ourselves with Moses, nearing the end of his life, and the two and a half tribes who’ve chosen to settle east of the Jordan River. It's in their territory that Moses, driven by an insatiable desire to do good, establishes these very cities.

There’s a lovely proverb that the text uses: "Whosoever loves pious deeds, never has enough of them.” It perfectly captures Moses's spirit. Even though God had decreed he wouldn't cross the Jordan, Moses still felt compelled to contribute to the land on the other side. He wanted to at least designate the spots for these asylums, these safe havens.

Why were these cities needed? Well, the people of Israel voiced a concern to God. They pointed out that God promised long life as a reward for following the commandments. But what happens, they asked, if someone accidentally kills another person? The avenger of blood, a relative of the deceased, might then kill the accidental manslayer. Would that person die before their time, negating the promise? It’s a very human question, isn’t it? A concern for justice, fairness, and the sanctity of life.

God, recognizing the wisdom in their words, instructs Moses to designate cities of refuge, places where someone who unintentionally caused another's death could flee. As the text says, "'that the manslayer might flee thither, which slayeth his neighbor unawares.'"

Moses, of course, was overjoyed. The text even says, "he that hath tasted of a food knoweth its flavor." This is a powerful image. Moses, having once fled himself after unintentionally killing an Egyptian, knew intimately the fear and desperation of someone being pursued for manslaughter. We read this story in (Exodus 2:11-15). He understood the profound need for such a sanctuary.

According to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, Moses immediately set about fulfilling God’s command. He understood the urgency and the vital role these cities would play in upholding justice and offering compassion. They were a evidence of the value of human life, even when a terrible accident occurred. The establishment of the cities of refuge wasn't just a legal decree; it was an act of profound empathy and understanding.

So, the next time you think about justice, consider this story. Consider the deep-seated human need for safety, for understanding, and for a chance at redemption. And remember Moses, who, even at the end of his life, continued to seek ways to bring compassion and justice into the world. What might we do to create our own "cities of refuge," metaphorical or otherwise, in our own communities today?

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Yalkut Shimoni on Torah 167:3Yalkut Shimoni on Torah

What did Moses see that made him give his life for the cities of refuge, that he says, "Then Moses set apart three cities" (Deuteronomy 4:41)? Rabbi Levi said: the one who has tasted the dish knows its flavor. How so? When Moses killed the Egyptian and came the second day and found Dathan and Abiram quarreling, "And he said to the wicked one" - this was Dathan, who began to abuse him, saying, "Do you mean to kill me as you killed the Egyptian?" When Pharaoh heard this he said: many things I have heard and kept silent, but now that it reaches bloodshed, they seized Moses.

How did he escape, since it says, "And Moses fled from before Pharaoh"? Rabbi Yannai said: the executioner came to lay the sword on his neck, and the sword was blunted against his neck, for it became as marble, and Solomon praises this: "Your neck is like a tower of ivory" (Song of Songs 7:5). Rabbi Eviatar said: more than that, the sword turned back upon the executioner, as it says, "And He delivered me from Pharaoh's sword." Moses said: me He delivered, but not the executioner. Bar Kappara said: an angel descended in the likeness of Moses and made him flee, and they thought the angel was Moses.

Rabbi Yehoshua said: see the miracles the Holy One, blessed be He, did for Moses. Of Pharaoh's whole company, some were made mute, some deaf, some blind. The guards, when asked, did not see him. Know this: when the Holy One, blessed be He, sought to send him on His mission, He said, "Who gives man a mouth?" (Exodus 4:11) - in that hour I stood by you, but now I will not stand by you.

Rabbi Yitzchak said: come and see, the deeds of the Holy One, blessed be He, are not like the deeds of flesh and blood. In the way of the world, a man makes himself a patron who will stand surety for him; when the man is seized and led out to be killed, where is the patron? But the Holy One, blessed be He, is not so. The ministering angels said: Moses, the member of Your household, is seized. He said to them: I stand surety for him. They said: he stands before Pharaoh, his sentence is read, he goes out to be killed. He said: I stand surety for him, as it says, "And He delivered me from Pharaoh's sword."

"And he struck the Egyptian and hid him in the sand" (Exodus 2:12). When he killed him there was no Egyptian present but Israelites, and "sand" means nothing but Israel: just as sand is moved from place to place and its sound does not carry, so it is unfitting for Israel to be slanderers. Were it not for these wicked men the matter would never have come out. And who were they? Dathan and Abiram. Whatever you can lay upon the wicked, lay it: they spoke this matter, they left over the manna, they said "Let us appoint a chief" (Numbers 14:4), and they joined Korah's quarrel. "Who made you a man, a prince and a judge?" - at that time he was only twenty, for we have a tradition that twenty years he grew up in Pharaoh's palace and sixty years he was in Midian, and when the Holy One, blessed be He, was revealed to him he was eighty. They said "Who made you a man," since a person is not called "a man" before twenty-five, as if to say: you have not yet reached manhood. Then they said: are you not the son of Jochebed? Enough for you that they call you the son of Bithiah. "He turned this way and that and saw there was no man" - he saw that no convert or righteous person would arise from him.

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