There was a transition, a gradual dimming of the light. It’s almost like the Egyptians were waiting for something… or someone.

Ginzberg tells us that as long as the sons of Jacob were alive, the Egyptians didn’t dare to show their true colors. Can you imagine the respect, maybe even a little fear, that these founding fathers commanded? But things began to shift after Jacob died. The Israelites’ eyes and hearts began to close, and they began to feel the dominion of the stranger.

The real turning point, the moment when the dam broke, came with the death of Levi, the last of Jacob’s sons. Only then, when that final living connection to the era of Joseph was gone, did the suffering of the Israelites truly begin. The Egyptians, who had been holding back, threw off their mask completely.

The first acts of hostility were economic. The Egyptians seized the Israelites' fields, their vineyards, even the gifts that Joseph had once sent to his brothers. It wasn't just about resources, though. It was about control, about stripping away their prosperity and dignity.

What fueled this animosity? Envy and fear. The Israelites had multiplied to an astonishing degree. Ginzberg states that the original seventy souls who came to Egypt with Jacob had grown to six hundred thousand! And their strength? Extraordinary! This booming population, this exceptional vigor, terrified the Egyptians.

The story gets even more interesting when we bring in the Egyptian rulers. Not long after Levi's death, the Egyptian king Magron, who had been raised by Joseph and still felt some gratitude, passed away. His successor, Malol, and his court? They knew nothing of Joseph's contributions or the achievements of Jacob's sons. And they certainly didn’t feel any obligation to the Hebrews.

The final break, the point of no return, occurred during wars waged by Malol against Zepho, the grandson of Esau. The Israelites, displaying their legendary strength, saved the Egyptians from a crushing defeat. But instead of gratitude, they were met with suspicion and malice. The Egyptians feared that the giant strength of the Hebrews might one day be turned against them. So, they decided to act first.

It's a chilling reminder, isn't it? How quickly gratitude can turn to fear, how easily respect can morph into oppression. The story of the Israelites' enslavement begins not with whips and chains, but with a change of heart, a shift in perspective, and the death of a generation that remembered a different time. This transition, this slow burn of resentment, serves as a cautionary tale that echoes through the ages. What does it tell us about power, gratitude, and the ever-present potential for prejudice?