The Jewish tradition is full of surprising answers, and today we're diving into one of the most unexpected: the story of Pharaoh's repentance.
Now, when we think of Pharaoh, images of the stubborn, cruel ruler from the Exodus story probably spring to mind. The one who hardened his heart, who refused to let the Israelites go, who brought plagues upon Egypt. Remember his famous line? "Who is the Lord, that I should hearken unto his voice?" (Exodus 5:2). Talk about defiance!
But Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, a fascinating collection of stories and interpretations, throws us a curveball in chapter 43. Rabbi Nechunia, son of Haḳḳanah, asks us to consider the power of teshuvah, repentance. And he uses, of all people, Pharaoh, as the prime example.
The text points out that Pharaoh's repentance mirrors his sin. Just as he once questioned, "Who is the Lord?", he later cries out, "Who is like thee, O Lord, among the mighty?" (Exodus 15:11). It's a complete turnaround! And according to this tradition, God actually delivers him from death.
Wait, what? When did Pharaoh die? Well, the text interprets God's words in Exodus 9:15, "For now I had put forth my hand, and smitten thee," as evidence that Pharaoh did die, at least symbolically.
But the story doesn't end there. Pharaoh, having been spared, goes on to rule in Nineveh. Yes, that Nineveh, the one from the Book of Jonah! And guess what? Nineveh is a mess. According to Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, the people are corrupt, dishonest, and engaging in all sorts of wickedness.
Then comes Jonah, sent by God to prophesy against the city. And here's where Pharaoh’s story takes another surprising turn. He actually listens. He arises from his throne, tears his garments, puts on sackcloth and ashes – the whole nine yards! He calls for a fast and orders the people to repent.
The description of the Ninevites' repentance is truly remarkable. The men are separated from the women, and the children are kept apart. Even the animals are separated! The infants cry for their mothers, the mothers yearn to nurse them. According to the text, it was by the merit of 4123 children that over twelve hundred thousand people were saved. The passage echoes the powerful words of Jonah 4:11: "And should not I have pity on Nineveh, that great city; wherein are more than six score thousand persons that cannot discern between their right hand and their left hand; and also much cattle?" And indeed, as we know, "the Lord repented of the evil, which he said he would do unto them" (Jonah 3:10).
The text tells us that God was slow to anger with them for forty years, corresponding to the forty days of Jonah's mission. A chance for real change.
But here's the kicker: after forty years, the Ninevites, sadly, revert to their old ways. They become even worse than before, and ultimately, they are swallowed up, descending into the depths of Sheol, the underworld. The passage references Job 24:12, "Out of the city of the dead they groan." A tragic end, highlighting the fragility of repentance.
So, what are we to make of this? Pharaoh, the ultimate symbol of stubbornness, actually repenting? Nineveh, spared through repentance, only to fall back into wickedness? It's a complex and challenging narrative. It shows us that repentance is possible, even for the most hardened hearts. But it also reminds us that repentance is not a one-time event. It requires constant effort, a continuous commitment to choosing good over evil.
It begs the question: Are we truly capable of lasting change? And what does it take to make repentance more than just a fleeting moment of regret? Perhaps, the story suggests, the key lies in remembering the cries of the children, the yearning for connection, the recognition of our shared humanity. Because ultimately, repentance isn't just about turning away from sin; it's about turning towards something greater.