Oh no, that would be far too simple. According to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, at every single entrance stood two massive lions.
Lions!
Terrifying, right? These weren't your cuddly, purring house cats. The text makes it clear that people were genuinely afraid of being torn to shreds. Nobody dared even get close to the doors unless the lion tamer was there to lead the beasts away. Can you picture the scene? The tension?
Now, think about Moses and Aaron approaching. They were about to face the most powerful man in the world, a man who believed he was a god. The stakes couldn't have been higher.
And what did Pharaoh’s advisors, those "sacred scribes" like Balaam, suggest? Let the lions loose! Unleash the beasts on Moses and Aaron! Seems like a reasonable plan if you want to intimidate someone, right?
But here's where the story takes a truly wondrous turn. It's a moment that speaks to the power, the sheer divine authority, that Moses carried.
Their advice, the advisors' plotting, it all amounted to…nothing. As Moses approached, all he had to do was raise his rod. His staff. And what happened? The lions didn't attack. They didn't roar.
Instead, they bounded toward him, joyously, like dogs greeting their master returning home. They gamboled at his feet.
Think about that image for a moment. The king’s ferocious lions, symbols of his power and dominion, transformed into playful companions by the presence of Moses. What does that say about true power? What does it say about the authority of someone acting on behalf of something greater than themselves?
It’s a powerful visual, isn’t it? A reminder that sometimes, the most fearsome obstacles can be overcome with something other than brute force. Something perhaps a little bit…divine.