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Egypt Scouted the Oath and Babylon Borrowed the Throne

Egypt hunted a loophole in the Flood oath and chose water to drown Israel's sons; Babylon sat on a borrowed throne and fell when the real owner returned.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. Egypt Reads the Oath and Calls It a Loophole
  2. The Water Egypt Calculated Away
  3. Babylon Sat in a Chair That Was Not Its Own
  4. The Receipt the Song Holds

Before Egypt chose its method of killing, it did research. The Egyptians, says Rabbi Elazar son of Rabbi Shimon, examined the ledger of promised punishments and looked for the one that had been taken off the table.

This is the portrait of an empire that went to its destruction with its eyes open, proud of the exploit right up until the moment it understood what it had missed.

Egypt Reads the Oath and Calls It a Loophole

The reasoning was careful. The Holy One had sworn after the Flood that water would never again be used to destroy the whole of humanity. Fire was still available as punishment. The sword remained in service. But water, wholesale, had been removed from the arsenal. Egypt decided to exploit this carefully. Throw the Hebrew sons into the Nile, and you are not violating the terms. The oath covers flood-scale destruction. Individual drowning is a different category.

The sages of Shir HaShirim Rabbah read this as the defining characteristic of the fox in the Song of Songs: the little fox that ruins the vineyards. Other empires arrive in the imagery of prophecy as larger things. Assyria is a cedar of Lebanon. Babylon is the golden head of Nebuchadnezzar's dream. Persia and the later kingdoms are beasts rising from the sea. Egypt is the small clever one, the one that glances backward before it strikes, the one that reads the rules carefully and believes that careful reading creates safety.

The Water Egypt Calculated Away

The response came from the same element the Egyptians had calculated away. The sea, which is water, which is the thing they believed was protected by the oath, rose at the command of the Holy One and took Pharaoh's army. Not a flood. A wall of water that stood while Israel walked through, then collapsed onto horses and riders and chariots on the other side. Egypt had read the oath correctly. The oath covered general flooding. What happened in the sea was something else: a targeted instrument, not a natural force out of control. The loophole held exactly long enough for Egypt to walk through it and drown.

Babylon Sat in a Chair That Was Not Its Own

The second empire worked by a different kind of miscalculation. Babylon did not look for loopholes in divine oaths. Babylon sat on a throne that had been temporarily vacated and mistook the temporary vacancy for permanent ownership.

In the interpretation that the midrash draws from the book of Daniel, Babylon's golden head in Nebuchadnezzar's dream represents not just power but the specific kind of power that comes from a loan. The divine authority that allowed Babylon to rule Israel in exile was delegated authority, held in trust for a purpose and a duration. The glory of the golden head was real. The assumption that it was permanent was the error.

When Belshazzar brought out the Temple vessels at the feast and drank from them, he made the error explicit. He was not simply committing sacrilege. He was acting as though the debt had been forgiven, as though what had been taken in exile now belonged to the taker permanently. The writing appeared on the wall the same night. What had been lent was now reclaimed.

The Receipt the Song Holds

Shir HaShirim Rabbah reads the Song of Songs as a coded chronicle of Israel's exile history, with the language of the beloved and the vineyards and the foxes mapping onto the sequence of empires. Each verse is a receipt: this happened, and this was the response, and the relationship between the Holy One and Israel ran underneath the surface of every political event that looked, from outside, like nothing more than the ordinary violence of powerful nations against small ones.

Egypt's loophole and Babylon's borrowed throne are both, in this reading, variations on the same mistake. Neither empire understood that the relationship they were interfering with had terms they could not audit. The covenant between the Holy One and Israel operates by rules that no external power can fully read, and the empires that believe they have found the safe path through those rules have only found the path that leads them to the mechanism of their own collapse.

Shir Hashirim RabbahHeavenMosesNoahSong Of Songs
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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.

Shir HaShirim Rabbah 4:2Shir HaShirim Rabbah

Shir HaShirim Rabbah turns to Daniel's Transgression.

Remember? Mene, mene, tekel, ufarsin (Daniel 5:25). The king's terrified, no one can read the writing… except for Daniel.

Shir HaShirim Rabbah 4 uses the verse "On my bed at nights I sought the one whom my soul loves" from Song of Songs to explore this moment, casting Daniel as the "one whom my soul loves." The text paints a vivid picture. "I sought him, but did not find him," referring to the frantic search for someone who could interpret the divine message. "The watchmen found me," the text continues, identifying these "watchmen" as the Chaldeans, the Babylonians themselves.

Where did Daniel go? Why wasn’t he immediately available? The text offers two possibilities. One suggests he was in a fast, "pleading for mercy regarding the destruction of the Temple," as reflected in (Daniel 9:17): "Now, our God, heed the prayer of Your servant." The other suggests he was preoccupied with another matter – perhaps even anticipating the very feast where he'd ultimately be called upon to read the writing on the wall.

Now, let's get to the really juicy part: the interpretation of those cryptic words. Mene, mene, tekel, ufarsin. What did they actually mean?

Rabbi Ḥiyya the Great and Rabbi Shimon ben Ḥalafta offered some truly creative interpretations. Rabbi Ḥiyya suggested the letters were arranged in columns, requiring Daniel to read downwards to understand the message – a direct allusion to the message coming "down from above." Rabbi Shimon ben Ḥalafta, on the other hand, proposed using the at bash cipher, a system of letter substitution where the first letter of the alphabet is replaced with the last, the second with the second-to-last, and so on. Again, the text emphasizes the divine source of the message through its complexity.

But Rabbi Meir keeps it simple. He argues that the words were written plainly, "in accordance with its plain meaning." So, why couldn’t anyone else decipher it? Because, according to Rabbi Meir, the Hebrew letters were written in the Assyrian script, the script that was newly adopted by the Jewish people.

The meaning? "God has counted [mana] the years of your kingdom and it has been completed." God weighed [tekel] Belshazzar on the scales and found him wanting. And finally, God has divided [paras] his kingdom and given it to the Medes and the Persians.

The text then recounts how, after hearing this grim prophecy, the Israelites present turned to Daniel, reminding him of Jeremiah's prophecies. "All the dire and harsh prophecies that Jeremiah prophesied befell us, and the one positive prophecy…has not yet transpired." They were waiting for the promised redemption. Daniel, in turn, consults the Book of Isaiah, specifically (Isaiah 21:1): "A prophecy of the wilderness of the sea, like gale force winds in the south."

The Rabbis use this verse to allude to the four kingdoms that would subjugate Israel, with Babylonia being the first. Rabbi Ḥanina, quoting Rabbi Yoḥanan, explains that the damage each kingdom inflicts is different. If Israel merits it, the oppression will be "from the sea," less damaging. If not, it will be "from the forest," more severe. A similar idea is found in (Psalms 80:14), "the boar from the forest [miyaar] will gnaw at it." The word miyaar is written with a suspended ayin, allowing it to be read as either "forest" [yaar] or "river" [yeor], reinforcing the idea that Israel's fate depends on its merit.

The interpretation continues, painting Belshazzar as arrogant and blasphemous. Rabbi Ḥama ben Rabbi Ḥanina even claims Belshazzar's banquet was "greater than that of his God!"

And what about Belshazzar's end? The midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) tells a rather gruesome story. Because Belshazzar threatened to punish any nation that rebelled against him, God declared that his punishment would come directly from Him. Belshazzar is murdered by his own gatekeepers, who mistake him for an imposter. Rabbi Elazar places his death at the beginning of the night, while Rabbi Shmuel bar Naḥman says it occurred when one can distinguish between a wolf and a dog – essentially, dawn.

The story concludes with a broader reflection on Babylon's downfall and the reasons for its initial rise. Merodakh Baladan, a Babylonian king, showed respect for the God of Israel, and as a result, God established three powerful Babylonian kings in his line. But when they turned to blasphemy, they were overthrown, paving the way for the redemption of Israel.

So, what can we take away from this deep dive into Shir HaShirim Rabbah 4? It's more than just a story about a king, a feast, and a mysterious message. It's a powerful exploration of divine justice, the consequences of arrogance, and the enduring hope for redemption. It reminds us that even in the darkest of times, the possibility of a brighter future always remains. And that sometimes, the most profound messages are hidden in plain sight, waiting for someone with the wisdom and insight to decode them.

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Shir HaShirim Rabbah 15:1Shir HaShirim Rabbah

It turns out, our ancestors were asking these questions too. to a fascinating passage from Shir HaShirim Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations of the Song of Songs.

The verse that sparks this whole discussion is (Song of Songs 2:15): “Catch foxes for us, little foxes that ruin the vineyards, as our vineyards are in bloom.” But what do foxes in a vineyard really mean?

This teaching uses this verse as a springboard to compare how God uses different imagery when talking about different nations. Powerful kingdoms, the text argues, are often likened to powerful, impressive things. Think fire, gold, or towering cedars. Remember that iconic image from (Daniel 2:32)? "That image, its head was of fine gold.." Kingdoms get the gold standard, literally! Or (Ezekiel 31:3), which states: “Behold, Assyria is a cedar in Lebanon." (Amos 2:9) even mentions that God "destroyed the Emorite from before them, whose height was like the height of cedars."

When it comes to the Egyptians, it’s a different story. Instead of fire, they're compared to flax, which "dwindled and extinguished," according to (Isaiah 43:17). Instead of gold, they're like lead, sinking to the bottom of the sea (Exodus 15:10). And instead of mighty cedars, they are like straw, easily consumed, as we see in (Exodus 15:7).

So, why the shift? Why the less-than-flattering comparisons? That's where the foxes come in. Shir HaShirim Rabbah points out that the Egyptians are likened to these cunning creatures: "Catch foxes for us." The text even cleverly interprets the verse to mean, “Foxes would catch us.”

Rabbi Elazar ben Rabbi Shimon offers a powerful insight: the Egyptians were cunning, and that's why they're compared to foxes. It wasn't just about brute strength; it was about deception and trickery. Like a fox constantly looking over its shoulder, the Egyptians were always plotting, always trying to outsmart everyone else.

The Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) goes on to illustrate this point. The Egyptians, knowing God's power, pondered how to destroy the Israelites without invoking divine wrath. They reasoned, "If we destroy them in fire, is it not already stated: 'For the Lord will judge with fire'?" (Isaiah 66:16). And, "[If] we destroy them by the sword, is it not written: 'And with His sword all flesh'?" (Isaiah 66:16). So, they landed on water, figuring God had already sworn never to flood the world again, referencing (Isaiah 54:9): “For this is for Me like the waters of Noah; [as I took an oath that the waters of Noah would no longer pass over the earth].”

But God, of course, was one step ahead. "By your lives," He says, "I will drag each and every one of you to his own flood!" This is reflected in (Psalms 63:11): “They will be hurled [yagiruhu] to the sword [ḥarev]; they will be a portion for the foxes [shualim].”

The Midrash cleverly interprets this verse. "They will be hurled to the sword," refers to the wicked being dragged to the dry seabed. The text interprets yagiruhu to mean "He will entice [yegareh] them with dry land [ḥorev], into the waters of the sea [sha’al yam]." And "They will be a portion for the foxes" means this fate is designated for the Egyptians.

Rabbi Berekhya adds a fascinating linguistic nuance. He notes that the word for "foxes" [shualim] is written differently in the verse. The first instance is written "full," and the second is "defective." He suggests that this implies the foxes will descend to the seabed [shaal yam]. The subtle change in spelling hints at a deeper meaning.

So, what's the takeaway? This passage from Shir HaShirim Rabbah isn't just about ancient history or biblical interpretation. It's about the power of imagery and the different ways we understand good and evil. It reminds us that sometimes, the greatest threat isn't the roaring lion, but the cunning fox, whose deception can lead to destruction. And it makes you wonder, what kind of animal best represents the challenges we face today?

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