I think it's because the best stories, even the fantastical ones, tap into something deeply human. They show us the consequences of our actions, the echoes of our choices. And the stories surrounding the Exodus from Egypt? They're overflowing with that kind of resonance.
Take the plague of the murrain, for instance. That's a fancy word for a devastating disease that wiped out the livestock of the Egyptians. Now, you might think of it as just another entry on the list of God's punishments. But the story, as retold in Ginzberg's Legends of the Jews, gives it a really potent twist.
The reason for this particular plague? The Egyptians, you see, had forced the Israelites into servitude as shepherds. Not only that, but they deliberately assigned them far-off, isolated grazing lands. The cruel goal? To keep them away from their wives and families. The Egyptians weren't just exploiting the Israelites; they were actively trying to break their family bonds, to dehumanize them. So, the plague of the murrain wasn't just a random act of divine retribution; it was a direct consequence of that specific cruelty. The disease targeted the very animals the Israelites were forced to tend, the same animals that kept them isolated from their loved ones.
Then comes the sixth plague: boils. Horrible, festering boils erupting on both people and animals. This wasn't just a minor skin irritation, mind you. This was agony. And again, the Rabbis in the Midrash see a direct connection between the sin and the suffering. The Egyptians, it turns out, had a particularly nasty habit. According to the Midrash Rabbah, they would command the Israelite slaves: "Go and prepare a bath for us unto the delight of our flesh and our bones."
Imagine the sheer arrogance and degradation of that! Forcing people you've enslaved to prepare luxurious baths for your own pleasure. The Talmud (Sanhedrin 107b) even mentions that Pharaoh was afflicted with leprosy, so this request could have been to help soothe his skin and bring relief from the disease. The act of cruelty and arrogance of demanding enslaved people to make you feel better is, in and of itself, dehumanizing.
So, what's the divine response? Boils. Inflamed flesh. Uncontrollable itching. The Egyptians, who reveled in physical pleasure at the expense of others, were now consumed by physical torment. And while they were scratching and suffering, the Israelites were, according to the story, using their baths!
These details, these connections between crime and punishment, they're not just about divine justice. They're about something deeper. They're about showing us that our actions have consequences, that cruelty breeds suffering, and that even in the midst of immense hardship, there can be a glimmer of hope, a hint of liberation. What do we do with this information? What do we learn from these stories? Perhaps we can learn that our actions have far-reaching affects, that we must be aware of how our choices impact others.