5 min read

Pharaoh Chased God's Own Army Into the Sea

Pharaoh rides into the sea with horses and iron, and God answers every weapon in Pharaoh's own language before the waters close.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. Pharaoh Brought His Best Vocabulary
  2. No One Had Helped God Lay the Foundations
  3. The Sabbath Spoke for Adam
  4. The Battlefield Was Never Neutral Ground

Pharaoh Brought His Best Vocabulary

Pharaoh organized the chase the way a competent general organizes everything: matching force to force, speed to terrain, confidence to experience. He had the horses. He had the chariots. He had iron. He had arrows and the men who could place them. The Israelites were moving slowly across open ground, burdened with children and livestock, and Pharaoh was coming with the military instruments that had given Egypt its empire.

Midrash Tehillim 18:12 reads the scene through Psalm 18, where God answers enemies in their own vocabulary. If Pharaoh brought horses, God answered in the language of horses. If Pharaoh brought arrows, God scattered the army with fiery arrows from the sky. If Pharaoh brought iron, God answered with hailstones and coals, with sulfur and thunder, with cloud and fire and mud until the wheels of the chariots came off and the horses went in every direction at once.

The midrash makes a specific point about this. The battle at the sea was not a demonstration of power overwhelming power. It was a translation. Pharaoh spoke the language of military force, and God answered him in that language, phrase by phrase, until every phrase had been answered and there was nothing left to say.

No One Had Helped God Lay the Foundations

Midrash Tehillim 24:3 turns from the sea to a prior question. When were the angels created? Some say the second day, some say the fifth. But all agree: not on the first day. The reason is simple. No one should be able to say that Michael stretched the heaven to the south and Gabriel stretched it to the north and some angel helped God divide the light from the darkness.

The creation was done alone. Not because God needed the credit, but because the world's foundations cannot rest on shared labor between Creator and creature. If an angel had helped lay the first stone, Pharaoh would have had a legitimate theological argument. He could have said: the world was made by committee. I contest the committee's decision. I appeal to a different partner.

There is no such appeal. God asked Job: where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth? Who set its measurements? Who stretched out the plumb line? The questions answer themselves. No one was there. Pharaoh's horses chased a people into a sea that God had made alone, before any witness existed to record a competing claim.

The Sabbath Spoke for Adam

After Eden, after the transgression that cost Adam his place in the garden, the first Sabbath came. Adam did not know what to expect. He had never lived through a night before. The light went out and he thought, perhaps, that the darkness was punishment, the world withdrawing from him because he had broken the terms of his residence.

Instead, the Sabbath arrived and spoke on his behalf. The Sabbath day itself appeared before God and argued for the man who had been shaped from the dust of the earth. Midrash Tehillim 92:2 preserves the tradition that Adam composed Psalm 92, the psalm for the Sabbath day, in gratitude for this intercession.

The connection to Pharaoh runs through creation. The God who made the Sabbath a day of advocacy, who built cosmic time to work in favor of the creature who needed mercy, is not a local deity whose jurisdiction ends at a border. Pharaoh chased Israel into a sea made by the same One who made Adam and the Sabbath, who built advocacy into the structure of the week.

The Battlefield Was Never Neutral Ground

What Midrash Tehillim assembles from these three passages is a picture of Pharaoh's miscalculation. He did not simply misjudge the military contest. He misjudged the nature of the ground he was fighting on. He thought he was pursuing runaway laborers across terrain that belonged equally to anyone who could move across it fast enough.

The terrain was not neutral. The sea was made by the One whose horses were already in position. The sky was made by the One who could scatter lightning the way a man scatters seed. The Sabbath had been running its intercessions since the first week. Pharaoh rode into a universe that had been arranged, from the beginning, by the One he was trying to outrun.


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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.

Midrash Tehillim 18:12Midrash Tehillim

Midrash Tehillim, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Psalms, offers a fascinating glimpse into this divine-human "battle" during the Exodus. It's not just about raw power, but about God meeting Pharaoh on his own terms, almost like a game of supernatural one-upmanship.

The story picks up with Pharaoh pursuing the fleeing Israelites. According to this midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary), Pharaoh demands a male horse, prized for its speed. But God, the midrash says, conjures an image of one for him. "When you ride on your horses, your chariots will come to life," as the prophet Habakkuk (3:8) says.

Pharaoh wasn’t easily impressed. He then asks for a female horse, deemed more strategic for battle because they don't need to stop to relieve themselves. The Holy One, blessed be He, responds in kind: "To my mare among Pharaoh's chariots, I compare you, my love," (Song of Songs 1:9).

The escalation continues. Pharaoh shoots arrows? God sends fiery arrows right back, scattering them (Psalm 18:15). Pharaoh brings iron spits? God counters with sharp lightning bolts (Exodus 9:23). It’s a cosmic tit-for-tat, a divine echo of Pharaoh’s aggression.

The text continues, describing a chaotic scene. The pillar of cloud, the protective divine presence, descends, turning the battlefield into mud. The pillar of fire boils, and the horses' hooves fall off. Pharaoh escalates with metal spears, and God responds with hailstones and flaming coals (Psalm 18:13). Then sulfur meets fiery coals, accompanied by the thunderous voice of God (Psalm 18:14). They were so confused they “did not know what to do.”

Rabbi Berachiah, quoting Rabbi Elazar, adds a powerful image: when Pharaoh exhausted his arsenal, God began to "fly," as (Psalm 18:11) says, "He rode on a cherub and flew." Pharaoh, in disbelief, challenges God: "Perhaps You can fly." And in response, God measures from wing to wing, shrouding Himself in darkness (Psalm 18:12).

This isn't just a story about divine power; it’s about God engaging with humanity, meeting Pharaoh's challenge with a powerful and overwhelming response. It's a reminder that even in the face of the most formidable opposition, divine intervention can manifest in unexpected and awe-inspiring ways. What does it mean that God meets Pharaoh on his own level, using his own tactics, before ultimately revealing His full, transcendent power? It's something to consider, isn't it?

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Midrash Tehillim 24:3Midrash Tehillim

Midrash Tehillim turns to Who Laid the Foundations of the Earth and Why.

As it says in (Nehemiah 9:6), "You alone are the Lord. You made the heavens, even the highest heavens, and all their starry host, the earth and all that is on it, the seas and all that are in them. You give life to everything, and the multitudes of heaven worship you." This isn't just a nice sentiment; it's a fundamental truth woven into the fabric of our understanding of creation.

Midrash Tehillim, a collection of rabbinic teachings on the Book of Psalms, explores this concept in a truly fascinating way. It even tackles a question that has intrigued theologians for centuries: When were the angels created?

Rabbi Yochanan suggests the second day, citing (Psalms 148:4), "The waters above the heavens," connecting it to the idea that God "makes his angels spirits" (PsalMS 104:4). But Resh Lakish offers a different view, placing their creation on the fifth day, linking it to (Genesis 1:20), "And let birds fly above the earth," and (Isaiah 6:2), which describes angels covering their faces with wings.

Then we have Rabbi Luliani who asks a very important question: why weren't the angels created on the first day? His answer is striking! He suggests it was so no one could mistakenly believe that Michael and Gabriel assisted God in the act of creation. As (Isaiah 44:24) emphasizes, "I am the Lord, who has made all things, who alone stretched out the heavens, who spread out the earth by myself." The point being: Who was with God? Who was His partner?

This idea – that the entire world, everything in it, belongs to God – is echoed by King David in (Psalms 24:1): "The earth is the Lord's, and everything in it." He recognized that because God created the heavens and the earth, they rightfully belong to Him.

The Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) uses a powerful analogy to illustrate this point, comparing God to a king with two stewards. One steward manages the house, while the other oversees the fields. The house steward knows everything about both the house and the fields, but the field steward is only familiar with the fields.

Similarly, when Moses ascended to heaven, he gained knowledge of both the upper and lower realms, even rebuking God for perceived shortcomings. As (Deuteronomy 10:14) states, "Indeed, to the Lord your God belong the heavens, even the highest heavens, the earth and everything in it."

However, David, who did not ascend to heaven, praised God based on what he knew – namely, that "The earth is the Lord's, and everything in it." The message? Recognize and appreciate God's dominion over what you can see and understand.

Rabbi Pinchas adds another layer to this understanding, contrasting an earthly king with the Holy One, blessed be He. A human king might have sheep but no pasture, or pasture but no sheep. But God? He fills both the upper and lower realms. As (Psalms 148:4-5) declares, "Praise him, you highest heavens and you waters above the skies. Let them praise the name of the Lord, for he commanded and they were created." And (Jeremiah 23:24) asks, "Do I not fill the heavens and the earth?"

God possesses both the flock (Israel, as (Ezekiel 34:31) tells us, "And you, My flock, the flock of My pasture") and the pasture (the land and its fullness). And, crucially, God knows how to shepherd them, promising in (Ezekiel 34:15), "I will feed My flock, and I will cause them to lie down." He knows good pasture, saying in (Ezekiel 34:14), "I will feed them in a good pasture."

The Midrash concludes with a somber thought: "Woe to the land and its fullness for the sake of God." It's a potent reminder that everything we have is ultimately a gift, a loan, and that we have a responsibility to care for it and use it in a way that honors its true owner.

So, the next time you look around at the world, remember: It’s not just ours. It's God's. And we are merely its stewards. What does that responsibility mean for you, today?

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Midrash Tehillim 92:2Midrash Tehillim

In Midrash Tehillim, a collection of rabbinic teachings on the Book of Psalms, the Sabbath is a powerful, almost tangible force.

The Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) starts with the verse, "A Psalm, a Song for the Sabbath day" (Psalm 92:1). Then, it immediately jumps into a fascinating interpretation of another verse: "The Lord gives voice to the many messengers." (Psalm 92:12). It's a bit of a leap. But stay with me. The Rabbis are making a connection between the many voices of God's messengers and the many ways we experience the Sabbath.

Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi compares it to striking a reed and sparks flying out in all directions. And Rabbi Yossi bar Hanina uses a similar image: striking a rock with a hammer and sparks shooting out. The idea is that the Sabbath, like these acts of creation or revelation, unleashes a multitude of experiences and expressions.

The Midrash continues, drawing a clear line between remembering the Sabbath, as commanded in (Exodus 20:8), and honoring it with food, celebration, and clean clothing. This echoes the words of (Isaiah 58:13), "And you shall call the Sabbath a delight." It's not just about abstaining from work; it's about actively embracing joy and celebration. We welcome the Sabbath with songs and hymns. It’s a time when something special happens.

So, what does happen? According to Rabbi Levi, at sunset on Friday, a person enters the Gan Eden, the Garden of Eden! Imagine that: the ministering angels themselves welcome you and lead you in. And get this: If you fulfill the commandment of the Sabbath, you’re given a special treasure!

But here’s where it gets really interesting. The Midrash then shifts to the story of Adam, the first human. We're told that Adam was created on Friday, just before the Sabbath. The text details the twelve hours of Adam’s creation: formed in the mind, molded with angels, dust gathered, limbs formed, a golem created (that’s a shapeless mass), clothed in skin, soul breathed in, standing on his feet, commanded, he sinned, judged, and finally, expelled from the Garden.

Talk about a busy day!

The kicker? When Adam was about to be punished, the Sabbath intervened! It removed him from his plight. The ministering angels then called out to him, quoting (Psalm 49:13): "A man who is in honor, yet does not understand, is like the beasts that perish." Ouch.

Here’s the thing: the Sabbath acted as an advocate for Adam. It pleaded before the Holy One, saying, "Master of the Universe, during the six days of creation, Adam was not punished in the world, but for me he sinned and was punished. This is my holiness and this is my rest." In other words, Adam’s sin was specifically tied to the Sabbath, and yet, the Sabbath itself offered him protection.

And for the sake of the Sabbath, Adam was saved from the punishment of hell.

The Midrash concludes that once a person witnesses the power of the Sabbath, they naturally want to sing its praises. The Sabbath, in turn, says, "You say a hymn for me, and you and I will say a hymn to the Lord," referencing the verse, "It is good to give thanks to the Lord."

So, what does it all mean? Maybe it's that the Sabbath isn't just a day of rest, but a powerful force of creation, redemption, and connection to the Divine. It’s a time when we can, in a sense, re-enter the Garden of Eden, and find ourselves in the presence of angels. And perhaps, most importantly, it’s a reminder that even when we stumble, there's always the possibility of redemption, thanks to the holiness and restorative power of the Sabbath.

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