You offer a compromise, they seem to agree, and then, bam! Back to square one. That's Pharaoh in a nutshell.
We're diving back into the Exodus story, specifically that tense back-and-forth between Moses and Pharaoh, as recounted in Legends of the Jews, Ginzberg’s masterful compilation of rabbinic lore. Pharaoh, still reeling from the plagues, is starting to crack. He's willing to let the Israelites offer sacrifices to their God, but with conditions, of course.
His first offer? Stay in Egypt.
Imagine that! "Sure, worship your God," he says, "just do it right here, where I can keep an eye on you." Moses, ever the diplomat, points out the obvious flaw: how exactly are they supposed to sacrifice animals sacred to the Egyptians right in front of their noses? Can you picture the uproar? As Moses wisely knew, that was just not going to fly.
So Pharaoh, begrudgingly, offers another concession. Okay, he says, they can leave the borders of Egypt. But – and it’s a big but – they can’t go "very far away."
Now, Moses, according to the narrative, asks for a three-day journey into the wilderness. Was this a little…misleading? Was Moses playing a game of cat and mouse with the Egyptian ruler? The text suggests it might be.
And here's where the story takes a familiar turn. Moses, in an act of compassion, pleads with God to remove the latest plague – this time, a horde of wild beasts. God listens, the beasts vanish, and what does Pharaoh do? You guessed it. He hardens his heart again.
The cycle continues. A promise made, a promise broken. A chance for redemption squandered. It makes you wonder, doesn't it? What would it have taken for Pharaoh to truly let go? To genuinely allow the Israelites to worship their God freely? Perhaps the answer lies not just in the plagues themselves, but in the deep-seated pride and stubbornness that resided within Pharaoh’s heart. A potent reminder, perhaps, of the battles we all face within ourselves.