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Job and Balaam Were Both in Pharaoh's Court When the Hail Fell

Two famous non-Israelite figures stood in Pharaoh's palace when hail struck Egypt. One believed the warning. One did not.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Warning Before the Storm
  2. Three Advisors and Three Different Choices
  3. Job in Pharaoh's Court
  4. Balaam Among the Dead

The Warning Before the Storm

The hail plague came with an offer. Before the first stone fell, God sent word through Moses: bring your servants and your livestock inside. Anyone who fears the divine word will be protected. Anyone who dismisses it will watch everything perish in the field. The Hebrew Bible records that some of Pharaoh's servants feared the word of the Lord and brought their households in, while others did not (Exodus 9:20-21). It leaves both groups anonymous.

Targum Jonathan on Exodus 9, the Aramaic paraphrase of the Torah shaped in Palestine between the second and seventh centuries CE, gives the anonymous servants names. The servant who believed the warning and gathered his people and animals inside was Job. The servant who dismissed it and left everything in the field was Balaam.

Three Advisors and Three Different Choices

The identification is not isolated. The Targum draws on a sustained rabbinic tradition holding that Pharaoh employed three counselors when he decided what to do about the Hebrew population: Job, Balaam, and Jethro. Each faced the same question about the same people, and each made a different choice.

Jethro fled. He would not participate in the deliberation to enslave or destroy the Hebrews, so he left the court entirely. His departure cost him influence but not integrity, and the tradition rewards him later when his daughter becomes Moses's wife and he himself becomes the wilderness judge who advises Moses on delegation.

Job stayed and stayed silent. When Pharaoh proposed enslaving the Hebrews, Job did not recommend it and did not oppose it. He held the kind of silence that passes for neutrality but functions as permission. The tradition is precise about what this cost him: the suffering described in the book that bears his name is read, in this framework, as the wages of that silence.

Balaam spoke. He recommended the persecution. He gave Pharaoh theological cover and strategic advice for the program of oppression. The talking donkey, the failed curses, the death in battle against Midian, all of it becomes, in this reading, the consequence of counsel given in Pharaoh's court before the ten plagues began.

Job in Pharaoh's Court

The placement of Job in Pharaoh's court changes both figures. Job is the Hebrew Bible's paradigmatic sufferer, the righteous man tested past the point anyone expects him to endure. The tradition has always struggled with what he did to deserve such catastrophe. Placing him in the counsel chamber where Israel's oppression was debated provides an answer that most readers find uncomfortable: Job's suffering is not arbitrary cosmic testing but delayed justice for a silence he could have broken.

It also changes what the hail scene means. Job believed the warning about the hail. He feared the divine word even after standing silently while Pharaoh plotted against Israel. The tradition does not use this to absolve him. It uses it to demonstrate that he always knew the difference between right and wrong. His silence in the court was not ignorance. It was a calculation, and the calculation was wrong.

Balaam Among the Dead

Balaam's trajectory in the rabbinic tradition is the opposite of Jethro's. The Book of Jasher records how he became an itinerant advisor after fleeing one battle, attaching himself to various kings and lending his reputation as a prophet to whoever hired him. Ginzberg's Legends of the Jews, drawing on Talmudic and midrashic sources compiled across many centuries, follows Balaam from Pharaoh's court to the armies of Midian, where he dies in battle at the hands of Phinehas. The Shekhinah fled from Moses when Pharaoh's daughter touched him, but it descended on Phinehas when he acted. The contrast is deliberate.

By the time the hail falls in Exodus 9, Balaam and Job have already made their fundamental choices in Pharaoh's court. The storm is not their first test. It is only the most visible confirmation of what was already settled. Job brings his people inside. Balaam leaves his in the field. The hailstones are the last word in a conversation that started years earlier when a king asked his advisors what to do about a people who were multiplying too fast.

JobBalaamPharaohPlaguesHailExodusMidrash AggadahTargum Jonathan
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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.

Jasher 64Book of Jasher

Chapter 64 of the Book of Jasher throws us right into one of those cycles.

Balaam, son of Beor – yes, that Balaam, the one with the talking donkey! – is hanging out with Angeas during a battle. But seeing Angeas getting trounced by Zepho, he wisely flees to Chittim (often associated with Cyprus or other Mediterranean lands).

Zepho, flush with victory, welcomes Balaam and his supposed wisdom. He’s so successful in battle that his kingdom enjoys renewed peace and prosperity. But here’s the kicker: "Zepho remembered not the Lord." He forgets who really gave him the victory, and instead, falls back on the ways of the "wicked children of Esau," serving other gods. The Book of Jasher pointedly reminds us: "From the wicked goes forth wickedness."

Success breeds ambition. Zepho, emboldened by his victories against Africa, starts plotting against… Egypt. He hears that the mighty Egyptian warriors are gone, that Joseph and his brothers are dead, and sees an opportunity. As the text says, Zepho wants to avenge his brethren, the children of Esau, for what Joseph and his brothers did to them way back when they buried Jacob in Hebron. It’s a long-held grudge!

So, Zepho sends out a call to arms, rallying the children of Esau (Edom), the children of the East, and the children of Ishmael. He essentially assembles a coalition of the aggrieved, reminding them of past wrongs and promising vengeance. "Now then if you are willing to come to me to assist me in fighting against them and Egypt, then shall we avenge the cause of our brethren."

And they come! A massive army gathers in Hebron, described as "a people numerous as the sand upon the sea shore which can not be counted." They descend upon Egypt and encamp in the valley of Pathros (Upper Egypt).

The Egyptians, facing this overwhelming force, also gather their troops. They even call upon the children of Israel, who are living in Goshen, to join them. About 150 Israelite men answer the call. Talk about uneven odds!

But the Egyptians don't fully trust the Israelites, fearing they might side with their "brethren," the Edomites and Ishmaelites. So, they keep the Israelites in reserve, planning to unleash them only if things get dire. "Perhaps the children of Israel will deliver us into the hand of the children of Esau and Ishmael, for they are their brethren."

Now, remember Balaam? He's still hanging around with Zepho. Zepho, ever superstitious, asks Balaam to use his divination skills to predict the outcome of the battle. But, wouldn't you know it, Balaam's magic fails him! The text explains, "this was from the Lord, in order to cause Zepho and his people to fall into the hand of the children of Israel." Divine intervention, perhaps?

The battle begins, and the Egyptians are getting hammered. They suffer heavy losses and are forced to retreat. In desperation, they cry out to the Israelites for help.

Those 150 Israelite men, outnumbered and facing a seemingly impossible situation, turn to God. And here's where things get interesting. "The Lord hearkened to Israel, and the Lord gave all the men of the kings into their hand." The Israelites, with divine assistance, rout the enemy, inflicting heavy casualties and throwing the kings' army into chaos.

The Egyptians, witnessing this display of power, are terrified. They flee the battlefield, leaving the Israelites to fight alone. After the battle, the Israelites, feeling betrayed, take a measure of revenge on the fleeing Egyptians, killing about 200 of them. They pointedly ask, "Wherefore did you go from us and leave us, being a few people, to fight against these kings who had a great people to smite us, that you might thereby deliver your own souls?"

The chapter ends with the Israelites returning to Goshen in triumph, while the Egyptians, thoroughly frightened, retreat to their homes.

What are we to make of all this? It's a story of ambition, betrayal, and divine intervention. It shows us the dangers of forgetting God in times of success and the consequences of long-held grudges. And it reminds us that even the smallest, most vulnerable group can achieve victory when they trust in something greater than themselves. It makes you wonder, doesn't it, what cycles we're caught in, and what it would take to break free.

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Targum Jonathan on Exodus 9Targum Jonathan

The plague of hail in Exodus chapter 9 comes with a warning: anyone who fears God's word should bring their livestock inside. The Hebrew Bible says some of Pharaoh's servants feared the word of the Lord, and some did not (Exodus 9:20-21). It does not name them. The Targum Jonathan does.

The God-fearer who gathered his servants and flocks inside was Job. The one who ignored God's word and left his servants and animals in the field was Balaam. Two of the most famous non-Israelite figures in the Hebrew Bible, the righteous sufferer and the corrupt prophet, are placed side by side in Pharaoh's court as rival advisors. The Targum draws on a well-known rabbinic tradition that Pharaoh had three counselors: Job, Balaam, and Jethro. Jethro fled. Job remained silent when Pharaoh debated enslaving Israel, and was punished with suffering. Balaam actively encouraged the persecution.

The plague itself is described with cosmic imagery. The hail falls from "the treasures of the heavens", suggesting that God stores destructive forces in celestial vaults, ready to deploy. And the hailstones contained fire within them: "fire darting among the hail." Ice and flame coexisted in the same stones, defying nature itself. The miracle was not just destruction. It was the suspension of physics.

When Pharaoh confesses his sin, the Targum makes his admission more specific than the Hebrew text: "I know that the Lord is a righteous God, and that I and my people have deserved every one of these plagues." This is not vague regret. It is a legal acknowledgment of justified divine punishment. And Moses agrees to pray. But pointedly tells Pharaoh, "I know that thou and thy servants release the people, they will have to be afraid before the Lord God." Moses already knows this confession is temporary. The Targum's Moses is not naive about Pharaoh's patterns.

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Tikkunei Zohar 96:8Tikkunei Zohar

The answer? Well, it's a bit…uncomfortable. The Tikkunei (spiritual repair) Zohar, a later, and in some ways wilder, expansion on the core Zohar, tackles this very question head-on. It suggests something startling: that Moses's encounter with Pharaoh's daughter had a lasting spiritual impact.

In this passage in, Tikkunei Zohar 96, when Pharaoh's daughter touched Moses, the Shekhinah, the feminine aspect of God, the Divine Presence, fled from him. Fled! It's a powerful image, isn't it?

Because of this separation, later, at the burning bush, when Moses wanted to draw near to Her, he received that famous command: "Do not approach here, remove your shoes from your feet" (Exodus 3:5).

Why the shoes? The Tikkunei Zohar interprets this as a symbolic instruction. Moses needed to divest himself of the spiritual residue, the “body,” that came from his contact with Pharaoh’s daughter. In other words, he had to purify himself. It's not just about physical cleanliness; it's about spiritual purity.

The text goes on to say that at the burning bush, God showed Moses that the human body in this world is “leprous, from the skin of the snake.” Ouch. That’s harsh language. But what does it mean?

It’s a reference to the serpent in the Garden of Eden, the source of temptation and mortality. Our physical bodies, in this view, are inherently flawed, marked by the consequences of that primordial sin. They are a barrier to pure spiritual connection.

But there's hope!

The Tikkunei Zohar continues that after a person sheds this "leprous" body and returns to the Garden of Eden (a metaphor for spiritual fulfillment, of course), they become clothed in a holy body. And here's where it gets really interesting. The text references (Exodus 4:7): "and behold, it returned as his flesh."

This refers to the moment when Moses's hand, briefly afflicted with leprosy, is healed. The Tikkunei Zohar sees this miracle as a foreshadowing of ultimate spiritual transformation. It's a promise that we, too, can shed our flawed "skin" and be renewed.

So, what are we left with? A challenging, yet ultimately hopeful, message. Our interactions, our experiences, shape us spiritually. We carry the weight of the world, the "skin of the snake," within us. But through purification, through a conscious effort to connect with the Divine, we can, like Moses, be transformed. We can reclaim our original, holy nature.

It makes you wonder, doesn't it? What "shoes" do we need to take off? What baggage are we carrying that prevents us from fully experiencing the Divine Presence in our lives? It’s a question worth pondering, isn’t it?

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Legends of the Jews 4:139Legends of the Jews

The familiar story centers on the Exodus, but some of the details… well, they're chilling.

In Legends of the Jews, which draws from various Midrashic (rabbinic interpretive commentary) sources, the suffering inflicted upon the Israelites wasn't just about forced labor. Remember Balaam, the prophet hired to curse Israel? Apparently, he gave Pharaoh some truly awful advice. That Pharaoh, in his paranoia, ordered the slaughter of Israelite babies. Can you imagine the horror?

Why? Because he was suffering from a terrible disease. The Midrash says he bathed in the blood of these innocents, hoping for a cure. For ten long years, this went on. Ginzberg, in Legends of the Jews, makes it clear: it was all in vain. The leprosy, instead of disappearing, morphed into something even worse – agonizing boils.

Pharaoh, in his hubris, couldn’t see the connection. He hears that the Israelites in Goshen, despite their forced labor, are being "careless and idle." The nerve! This news, naturally, only fueled his rage and intensified his suffering. "Now that I am ill, they turn and scoff at me," he reportedly said. He demands his chariot be prepared so he can personally oversee their oppression and witness their supposed mockery.

The scene that follows is almost biblical in its poetic justice. He's so weak he can't even mount a horse himself. They hoist him up, and he sets off toward Goshen. But as they approach the border, the king's steed enters a narrow pass. The other horses, rushing, press in, and the king's horse stumbles. It falls, the chariot overturns, and Pharaoh is thrown to the ground, crushed beneath the horse and the wreckage.

The Legends of the Jews is explicit: "The king's flesh was torn from him, for this thing was from the Lord." He had heard the cries of His people. God intervened.

His servants, horrified, carry what's left of him back to Egypt and place him on his bed.

It's a brutal end, isn't it? A stark reminder that even the most powerful rulers are ultimately subject to forces beyond their control. And that, sometimes, justice, however harsh, does prevail. It also reminds us of the incredible power and resilience of the Israelite people even in the face of such unimaginable suffering. A story worth remembering, isn't it?

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