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Egypt Trusted a Loophole and Babylon Fell in One Night

Fire was ruled out. The sword was ruled out. Egypt worked down the list and settled on the river, because God had sworn off floods.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Fox Looks Behind Itself
  2. Dragged to His Own Flood
  3. Three Steps Bought Three Kings
  4. The Feast That Outdid His God
  5. The Gatekeepers Do Exactly What They Were Told
Egypt Trusted a Loophole and Babylon Fell in One Night Click for full size

The Fox Looks Behind Itself

The great empires get grand things in the prophets. Assyria is a cedar in Lebanon. Babylon is a head of fine gold on a statue. The kingdoms come up out of the sea as beasts, one of them like a lion.

Egypt gets flax, and lead, and straw, and a fox.

A fox runs with its head turned. It is looking behind itself the whole time, checking what is coming up the road after it, and that is exactly how Pharaoh's men sat down to decide how to finish the Hebrews.

Fire was raised first and put down again. It is already sworn that the Lord judges by fire. Use fire and you are using His.

The sword next. Also His. By His sword, all flesh.

Then somebody in that room said water, and the room went quiet in the good way.

Because water was finished. After the flood God had taken an oath about it, that the waters of Noah would never pass over the earth again, and an oath is an oath even when the one who swore it is watching you use the gap it leaves. The river was outside the terms. It was a gap they trusted, and it was the last thing all of them agreed on in that room.

Every boy, they said. Into the Nile.

Dragged to His Own Flood

"By your lives," God said, "I will drag every one of you down into a flood of his own."

He did not send water. That would have broken the oath, and the oath held. What He sent was dry ground.

The sea opened and stood up on both sides, and the people they had been drowning walked out along the floor of it with the walls of water standing over them and not one drop coming down. Then the chariots came. Six hundred of them into the gap, wheels on the seabed, following the bait all the way in.

The walls came down on them one man at a time. Not a flood over the earth. A private flood for each driver, exactly as promised, in the one element they had reasoned their way into.

They sank like lead, which is the other thing Egypt gets compared to.

Three Steps Bought Three Kings

Babylon did not read the fine print. Babylon had an account, and it went overdrawn.

The account was opened by a king named Merodakh Baladan, who worshipped the sun and organized his day around it. He ate at the sixth hour and slept until the ninth, every day, without variation.

Then, far away in Judah, the sun ran backward ten hours as a sign for a sick king named Hezekiah.

Merodakh lay down at the usual hour and woke up in the morning. He came out of his room already shouting for his guards.

"You let me sleep a whole day and a whole night."

"The day went backward."

"Whose god did that?"

"The God of Hezekiah."

"There is a god greater than my god?"

"The God of Hezekiah is greater than your god."

He sat down and wrote to Jerusalem the same hour. Greetings to Hezekiah. Greetings to the great God. Greetings to Jerusalem. The letters went out with the courier and Merodakh sat there thinking about the order of the lines, and then he was up off the throne and walking, three steps across the floor, calling the courier back.

He wrote them again. Greetings to the great God of Hezekiah. Greetings to Hezekiah. Greetings to Jerusalem.

"You got off your throne and took three steps for My honor," God said. "On your life, three kings will come out of you who rule from one end of the world to the other."

Nebuchadnezzar was the first. Evil Merodakh was the second. Belshazzar was the third, and the third was the last, and nobody had told him the account had a bottom.

The Feast That Outdid His God

Belshazzar threw a banquet and made sure it was bigger than the ones his own god got.

He had Judeans brought in so he could compare. "Your barley offering. How was it sifted?"

"Through thirteen sieves."

"Mine goes through fourteen."

Then he sent for the cups his grandfather had carried out of the Temple in Jerusalem, and he and his wives and his court drank wine out of them, and that was the moment a hand came out of the air by the lampstand and wrote four words on the plaster.

Nobody in the hall could read them. Daniel was not in the hall. One account has him fasting somewhere over the ruin of the Temple; another has him at the feast the whole time.

He read it the way it was meant. Counted, and the count is finished. Weighed, and you came up light. Divided, and handed to the Medes and the Persians.

Cyrus and Darius were in the building that night. They were the gatekeepers. They stood at the door of the hall arguing politely about which of them was supposed to reign first, since the prophecy had named Media before Persia.

The Gatekeepers Do Exactly What They Were Told

Word of the writing reached Belshazzar as a security problem. He sent orders to his armies: whatever nation has rebelled against me, we invade it.

"You sent word to everybody," God said. "Did you send any to Me? On your life, this man's punishment is not coming from the east or the west. It is coming from Me."

Then Belshazzar turned to the two men on his door and gave the order that killed him.

"Anyone you see in here tonight, even if he tells you he is the king, take his head off."

Kings do not put their privies inside the hall. They are built outside, past the doors. And Belshazzar's bowels were loose all that night, so he went out, and the guards did not see him go.

They saw him come back.

"Who are you?"

"I am the king."

"Did the king not say that anyone we see here tonight, even if he says he is the king, loses his head?"

They pulled a branch off the lampstand and drove it through his skull. He fell at the hour when sleep begins, or else at the hour when there is just enough light to tell a wolf from a dog. He was a long time dying either way.

Between one cup and the next cup, the kingdom changed hands.

Jerusalem had something to say to Babylon afterward, and it was not thank you. It was ground flour that you ground. It was a dead lion that you killed. It was a burnt house that you burned. Now sit down on the ground. There is no chair.


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From the tradition

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The texts behind this telling. Some cards carry a translation of the source; others are our own retelling of it, and each card says which. Every card links out to the original.

Shir HaShirim Rabbah 4:2Shir HaShirim Rabbah

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022 · CC-BY

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. 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 2:15Shir HaShirim Rabbah

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022 · CC-BY

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.

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