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The Hand That Strikes Egypt Also Heals Israel

The courtyards stank of fly-killed cattle. Egyptians cut them for the hides. By dawn those carcasses were on their feet, walking north.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Dead Cattle Walked North
  2. Pharaoh Called God Righteous
  3. They Drank What Was Left of the Calf
  4. A Bronze Snake Healed the Bite
The Hand That Strikes Egypt Also Heals Israel Click for full size

The Dead Cattle Walked North

The flies were gone. The courtyards were not. Carcasses lay in every Egyptian yard, bloated from the swarm that had bitten them until they dropped. Men came with knives. They cut for hides. They cut for meat. Heat was already working on the flesh, and they meant to salvage what the plague had left them.

God refused the salvage.

The slaughtered animals stood up. Legs that had been folded under knives found the ground. Necks lifted. The ones killed by the swarm and the ones killed by Egyptian blades shook the flies off a second time and walked north, out of Goshen, out of the brick cities, toward the road Israel would later take. Egypt was left with empty yards and no profit. Not the hides. Not the meat. The frogs had died in place and stayed dead, because a frog is not a coin. Cattle are coins. Heaven would not let Pharaoh keep the coins.

A fifth plague rode with the others. Pestilence mowed the remaining herds, and some men with them. Israelite beasts lived. If an Israelite had a claim on an Egyptian animal, that animal lived too. Shared property lived. The striking counted ownership down to the last hoof.

Pharaoh Called God Righteous

Hail came next, ice with fire inside it, and Pharaoh finally used a true sentence. "The Lord is righteous, and I and my people are wicked." He said God had been righteous when He warned them to pull the cattle in, and they had been wicked for leaving men and beasts in the field. He begged Moses to pray the ice away. He promised to let Israel go.

Moses agreed to pray. He did not agree to believe. "Think not that I do not know what will happen after the plague is stayed," he said. "I know that thou and thy servants will fear the Lord God, once His punishment is removed, as little as ye feared Him before. But to show His greatness, I will pray to Him to make the hail to cease."

The ice stopped. Fields that had been white went to mud. Pharaoh's mouth closed on the confession. The same power that had emptied the yards now emptied the sky, and the king took the mercy as a chance to harden again. Striking had not opened him. The halt of the hail did not either. He kept the people.

They Drank What Was Left of the Calf

Israel got out. At the mountain they made a calf of gold and danced. Moses came down, burned the statue, ground it, and strewed it on water. He made them drink (Exodus 32:20). Gold grit sat on their teeth. The camp swallowed what it had kissed.

"Who is on the Lord's side? Let him come unto me," he called. The sons of Levi came, the ones who had not bowed. Moses set them as judges for a single day. Witnessed idolaters who had been warned lost their heads. The law's usual delays would have left the camp unclean until night. Moses spoke as if God had commissioned the speed. God had not. The day still had to finish the guilty.

Those seen in the dance but never warned drank the water. It worked on them the way the bitter water of the sotah (סוטה), the wife accused of hidden unfaithfulness, works in the priest's court (Numbers 5). The innocent swallowed and lived. The guilty swelled and died. Sinners with no witnesses at all did not slip out. A plague took them. The water that tests a marriage tested a nation. Mouths that had drunk freedom in Egypt now drank judgment in the sand.

A Bronze Snake Healed the Bite

Later the camp complained in Zalmonah, a station of thorns, and God sent serpents. They bit. People died. The murmurs followed them to Punon, to Oboth, to Iye-abarim. Moses, at God's word, made a serpent of bronze and set it on a pole. Anyone bitten who looked at it lived (Numbers 21:8-9).

The looking had to be long if a snake had done the damage. A man lifted his face and kept it lifted until his eyes watered. A casual glance was not enough. Dog bites and other animal wounds closed faster. A child nipped by a camp dog looked once, short as a blink, and the puncture shut. The bronze had no medicine in it. The gaze was the act. A person turned toward the thing that wore the killer's shape, and the power that had sent the live snakes now used the dead image to close the holes they had made.

In the valley of Arnon the same hand crushed Amorites hiding in caves by shoving one mountain's rocks into the other mountain's mouths. Israel walked the ridge and never descended into the trap. Egypt's yards stayed empty of even dead meat. The hand that strikes those yards also heals Israel. In the camp a boy with a dog bite looked once at the pole and ran.

GinzbergMosesMiraclesJudgment And Healing
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From the tradition

Sources

4 sources

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.

Legends of the Jews 4:305Legends of the Jews

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Legends of the Jews by Louis Ginzberg (1909) · Public Domain

Legends of the Jews turns to Dead Animals from the Plague of Flies Vanished Miraculously.

Well, according to Legends of the Jews, Ginzberg's masterful retelling of rabbinic tradition, the end of the fourth plague was just as miraculous as the plague itself. See, the Egyptians, in their desperation, had killed a bunch of the animals afflicted by the swarms of flies. Makes sense. But here’s the thing: God wasn’t about to let those wicked oppressors profit, not even a little bit, from the devastation. So, these very animals – the ones the Egyptians had slaughtered – they were resurrected! They came back to life and marched right out of Egypt with the rest of the afflicted creatures.

It’s a stark contrast to the plague of frogs. Remember them? They just died where they fell, their carcasses rotting and adding to the overall misery. Why the difference? Perhaps because the frogs, unlike the livestock, weren't of use to the Egyptians. The point wasn't just punishment, but also preventing the oppressors from benefiting from the suffering they inflicted.

Then came the fifth plague: the devastating pestilence. This wasn't just a minor inconvenience; it was a grievous disease that decimated the Egyptians' livestock, their cattle and beasts. While the animals suffered the most, the plague didn’t entirely spare the Egyptians themselves.

Legends of the Jews explains that this pestilence wasn't just a one-time event; it was a constant, underlying presence accompanying all the other plagues. So, while the focus might be on the frogs or the locusts, this deadly disease was always lurking, contributing to the overall suffering and death toll.

And what about the Israelites? Again, they were completely unharmed. Protected, shielded. The clear distinction between the oppressors and the oppressed. But it goes even deeper.

According to the tradition, even if an Israelite had a legitimate claim on an animal owned by an Egyptian, that animal would be spared. And if Israelites and Egyptians shared ownership of cattle? Those animals, too, would be protected from the pestilence. It's a fascinating detail, highlighting the meticulous nature of divine justice, the careful consideration of even the smallest details.

These stories, these legends, they aren’t just ancient tales. They are reminders that justice, while sometimes delayed, is ultimately served. And that even in the midst of unimaginable suffering, there is always a glimmer of hope, a promise of redemption. What do these legends teach us about how we should treat those around us? What kind of world would we build if we remembered these lessons?

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Legends of the Jews 4:312Legends of the Jews

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Legends of the Jews by Louis Ginzberg (1909) · Public Domain

Think of that friend who finally starts exercising after a doctor's warning, or the colleague who suddenly becomes a team player when their job is on the line. Well, Pharaoh, in the Biblical story of the Exodus, was definitely one of those people.

After enduring plague after plague, water turning to blood, swarms of frogs, and gnats, oh my!. Pharaoh was finally starting to crack. But it wasn't a genuine change of heart, not really. More like a desperate plea.

The hail is coming down in sheets, devastating everything in its path. And finally, FINALLY, Pharaoh relents. "The Lord is righteous," he groans, "and I and my people are wicked!" According to Legends of the Jews, Pharaoh even admits, "He was righteous when He bade us hasten in our cattle from before the hail, and I and my people were wicked, for we heeded not His warning." He acknowledges that the destruction was a direct result of ignoring God's warning, a warning meant to protect both people and their animals.

He begs Moses, please, to intercede with God and stop the plague. And, of course, he throws in the usual promise: let the children of Israel go!

Now, Moses, ever the shrewd negotiator (and let's be honest, a bit of a realist), agrees to plead with God. But he’s not buying Pharaoh’s sudden humility for a second. He lays it out plain: "Think not that I do not know what will happen after the plague is stayed. I know that thou and thy servants, ye will fear the Lord God, once His punishment is removed, as little as ye feared Him before." Ouch. Talk about calling someone's bluff!

But, Moses adds, to show God's greatness, he will pray for the hail to cease. It's not about trusting Pharaoh; it's about demonstrating God's power and mercy, even to those who may not deserve it.

How often do we, like Pharaoh, only turn to a higher power or to doing the right thing when we're backed into a corner? And how often do we truly learn from those experiences? The story of the Exodus, even in this small moment, is a powerful reminder that true change comes from within, not just from external pressures.

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Legends of the Jews 2:110Legends of the Jews

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Legends of the Jews by Louis Ginzberg (1909) · Public Domain

Oh no. Some faced a rather unpleasant form of divine justice, involving… drinking water.

Yep, you heard that right. Drinking water! But not just any water. This water, according to some traditions, was a form of capital punishment inflicted upon the sinners. Imagine the scene: the aftermath of the Golden Calf, the air thick with remorse and fear. Moses, standing tall, issues a call to action: "Who is on the Lord's side? Let him come unto me!" (Exodus 32:26).

Who answers the call? The sons of Levi. They, who had remained steadfast and not participated in the idolatrous worship. Moses, in turn, appoints these Levites as judges. Their immediate duty? To carry out the lawful punishment of decapitation upon those who, with witnesses present, were seduced into idolatry after having been explicitly warned. Harsh. According to Legends of the Jews, as retold by Ginzberg, Moses gave this command as if he had been directly commissioned by God. But here's the twist: he wasn't! Why do this? To expedite justice. Because under normal Jewish jurisprudence, punishing all the guilty in a single day would have been nearly impossible.

Those who were witnessed committing idolatry but couldn't be proven to have received a prior warning didn't escape judgment entirely. They met their fate through this special water that Moses forced them to drink. Apparently, this water had the same effect on them as the curse-bringing water administered to an adulterous woman, the sotah, described in Numbers 5.

But what about those sinners against whom no witnesses came forward? Did they get off scot-free? Not quite. The legend says that God sent a plague to carry them off. So, no one truly escaped the consequences of their actions.

A society confronting immense guilt, seeking to restore its relationship with the Divine. The story highlights the severity with which idolatry was viewed and the lengths to which the community went to cleanse itself after such a profound transgression. How do we balance justice and mercy? And what does it truly mean to be "on the Lord's side"?

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Legends of the Jews 5:86Legends of the Jews

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Legends of the Jews by Louis Ginzberg (1909) · Public Domain

Legends of the Jews turns to Even Dog Bites Were Healed by Looking at the Serpent.

Here's a fascinating detail: The healing wasn't uniform. Those bitten by animals were cured with a mere glance, a quick acknowledgment. But those bitten by serpents needed a long, insistent gaze. What does that tell us? Perhaps it hints at the deeper, more sustained work required to heal from the original transgression. Maybe it symbolizes the deeper venom of that first transgression that had led to the serpents in the first place.

The story continues, and the landscape itself becomes a character. The murmurs of the people, which brought about the serpent plague, occurred in Zalmonah, a place, as the verse says, "where grew only thorns and thistles." A fitting backdrop for discontent, wouldn’t you say? From there, they wandered to Punon, where God's punishment found them. Even in the next two stations, Oboth and Iye-abarim, their hostility continued, fueling God's wrath.

Things didn’t turn around until they reached Arnon. It was there, in the valley of Arnon, that God's favor returned. And how! The miracles there were, as great as the splitting of the Red Sea!

Now, picture this: The valley of Arnon formed by two towering mountains, so close that people on their summits could chat with each other. But to traverse the valley, one had to descend seven miles and then ascend again. The Amorites, knowing the Israelites would have to pass through, hatched a plan. Some hid in caves on the mountain slopes, others waited in the valley below. A classic ambush!

But God, as always, had other plans. Here's where the story reaches a crescendo. one mountain was full of caves, perfect for hiding. The other? A jagged, rocky mountain. And then, God moved the rocky mountain, pressing it so close to the other that its jutting rocks crushed the Amorites hiding in the caves!

Isn't that an incredible image? The landscape itself becoming an instrument of divine justice. The very geography reshaped to protect the Israelites. The Zohar tells us that every detail in Torah has a purpose, so this amazing event at Arnon surely is no different.

What does this story, with its brazen serpent and collapsing mountains, leave us with? Perhaps it's a reminder of the power of perspective. A glance can heal a small wound, but a sustained gaze, a deeper introspection, is needed for true transformation. And perhaps, too, it's a reminder that even in the most treacherous valleys, divine intervention is possible, sometimes in the most unexpected, earth-shattering ways.

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