Because true magic, the kind wielded by prophets and emanating from the Divine, is something else entirely. Consider the story of the Egyptian magicians and their fateful encounter with Moses.
For the first five plagues that Moses brought upon Egypt, the magicians were right there, trying to mimic him, and, according to some accounts, even partially succeeding! Can you imagine the scene? The Nile turning to blood, frogs swarming everywhere, gnats and flies descending in clouds… and the royal magicians desperately trying to keep up, chanting incantations, waving their hands, attempting to replicate Moses's miracles.
But then came the sixth plague: boils.
Suddenly, the game changed. The magicians, who had been so confident, so eager to prove their power, found themselves unable to even stand before Moses. The text in Legends of the Jews tells us that "in this sixth plague they could not stand before Moses, and thenceforth they gave up the attempt to do as he did."
Why? What was so different about the boils?
Perhaps it was the sheer agony, the visible manifestation of divine displeasure. Or perhaps, as some suggest, it was a sign that their own magic was turning against them. After all, their craft had all along been harmful to themselves.
Think about it. They could conjure the plagues, but they couldn't undo them. They could mimic Moses by drawing their hands from their bosoms, white with leprosy, but here’s the crucial difference: their flesh remained leprous. It wasn't an illusion for them. This wasn't a trick they could simply reverse.
The repercussions of their actions lingered, a constant reminder of their hubris. According to Legends of the Jews, "until their dying day they were afflicted with the ills they produced."
This story is more than just a colorful anecdote from the Exodus narrative. It speaks to the very nature of true power. It highlights the difference between superficial imitation and genuine, transformative change. The magicians could mimic the symptoms, but they couldn't offer healing. Only Moses, acting as an emissary of God, possessed that ability.
So, the next time you see a magician pull a rabbit out of a hat, remember the Egyptian sorcerers. Remember the difference between illusion and reality, between temporary trickery and the enduring power of divine intervention. And perhaps, consider the price of wielding power without wisdom, without compassion, without the ability to heal the wounds we inflict.