Today, we're diving into a fascinating passage from Devarim Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Deuteronomy, that explores just that, through the lens of Moses and the establishment of the cities of refuge.
The passage opens with a tantalizing question: What prompted Moses to dedicate himself to creating these cities of refuge? Rabbi Levi offers a compelling insight: "One who ate the dish knows its taste." In other words, Moses' own experiences, his own brushes with danger and the law, gave him a unique understanding of the need for such places of sanctuary.
To understand this, we have to rewind a bit. Remember when Moses killed the Egyptian? The story continues that the next day, he encountered Datan and Aviram quarreling. As it says in Exodus 2:13, "He emerged on the second day, and behold, two Hebrew men were fighting." Rabbi Aivu identifies Datan as the "wicked one" who then challenged Moses with the accusatory question: "Do you propose to kill me?" (Exodus 2:14).
This accusation reached Pharaoh, who, according to the text, had been patient until now. "How many things have I heard and been silent," Pharaoh supposedly said. "Now that he has arrived at bloodshed, apprehend him." So, how did Moses escape?
Rabbi Yannai paints a dramatic picture: when the executioner's sword came down on Moses' neck, it miraculously blunted, turning his neck into marble! A testament to divine protection, perhaps echoed in Solomon's words in the Song of Songs (7:5): "Your neck is like an ivory tower." Rabbi Evyatar adds a twist: the sword not only failed to harm Moses, but it rebounded and struck the executioner! He finds support for this in Exodus 18:4, where Moses says, "He delivered me from the sword of Pharaoh" – implying, according to Rabbi Evyatar, that the executioner wasn't so lucky. Bar Kappara suggests an angel, appearing as Moses, facilitated his escape, confusing the Egyptians. Rabbi Yehoshua further emphasizes the miraculous nature of Moses' flight, noting that God rendered some of Pharaoh's scholars mute, deaf, or blind, ensuring Moses' safe passage.
All this leads to a powerful point. When God later sought to send Moses on his mission, Moses hesitated. But God reassured him, reminding him of the miracles he had already performed. As we find in Exodus 4:11, "The Lord said to him: Who gives a mouth to a person, or who renders one mute, or deaf, or sighted, or blind?" The implication being: If God stood with Moses then, He would stand with him now.
Rabbi Yitzchak then offers a beautiful reflection on the difference between human patrons and God's protection. A mortal patron might offer protection, but their reach is limited. When someone is on trial, the patron might intervene. But when the execution is underway? Where is the patron then? But the Holy One, blessed be He, is different. Even as Moses stood before Pharaoh, facing execution, God delivered him. As it says in Exodus 18:4, "He delivered me from the sword of Pharaoh."
The passage continues with similar examples: Daniel in the lions' den, Abraham in the fiery furnace, Jonah swallowed by the whale. In each case, a mortal patron would be powerless. But God's protection transcends all earthly limitations. Daniel was saved because "My God sent His angel, and he shut the lions’ mouths" (Daniel 6:23). Abraham was rescued from the furnace, as God declares in Genesis 15:7, "I am the Lord, who took you out of Ur of the Chaldeans" – Ur also meaning "fire" in this context. And Jonah was released from the belly of the fish, because "The Lord spoke to the fish, and it spewed Jonah upon the dry land" (Jonah 2:11).
Finally, we return to the cities of refuge. Rabbi Aivu suggests that when Moses fled, he sang a song of praise, just as the Israelites sang at the well (Numbers 21:17). Rabbi Levi adds that Moses sang because the concept of the city of refuge, a place for those who had unintentionally killed someone, was now in effect through him. His own experience of fleeing after killing the Egyptian gave him a profound understanding of the need for such a system of justice and mercy.
So, what does all this tell us? Perhaps it's that true leadership comes from a place of lived experience, from understanding the nuances of justice and mercy, and from recognizing the constant, unwavering protection that God offers, even in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds. And maybe, just maybe, it's a reminder that even our mistakes can shape us into instruments of divine purpose.