The Torah tells us, "The magicians of Egypt did so with their spells; and Pharaoh's heart hardened, and he did not heed them, as the Lord had spoken” (Exodus 7:22). But what does "did so" even mean? Shemot Rabbah unpacks this. It suggests that the Egyptians actually believed the magicians' acts were mere trickery, acts of sorcery, not divinely ordained miracles like those of Moses and Aaron.
And there’s a fascinating little wordplay that Rabbi Aivo bar Nagrei, quoting Rabbi Ḥiyya bar Abba, brings to our attention. The verse uses the word "belateihem" (בְּלָטֵיהֶם), meaning "with their spells." Rabbi Ḥiyya says that belateihem refers to acts of demons. But in Exodus 7:11, a similar word, "belahateihem" (בְּלַהֲטֵיהֶם), appears. That, he says, refers to acts of sorcery. You see, the word "lahat" (לַהַט) itself means "flame," and it's associated with destructive forces. Think of the "flame of the ever-turning sword" guarding the Garden of Eden in Genesis 3:24. According to this understanding, all acts of sorcery are performed by angels of destruction. Quite a distinction!
But Pharaoh? Well, "Pharaoh turned and came to his house, and he did not take this to heart either" (Exodus 7:23). Shemot Rabbah emphasizes his indifference: he simply wasn't concerned, refusing to heed God's clear warning. Stubborn, much?
And then there's the problem of drinking water. "All the Egyptians dug around the Nile for water to drink, as they could not drink from the water of the Nile" (Exodus 7:24). Here, we get a debate between Rabbi Yehuda and Rabbi Neḥemya. Rabbi Yehuda believes only the water in the Nile was affected. But Rabbi Neḥemya says the plague was far more widespread: all the water in Egypt, above and below ground, turned to blood.
Rabbi Yehuda challenges him: if all the water was affected, why were the Egyptians digging around the Nile? Rabbi Neḥemya responds that the Egyptians believed that any water Moses and Aaron saw turned to blood, so they frantically dug, hoping to find water their eyes hadn't yet beheld. Spoiler alert: they were unsuccessful. Even the underground water was blood.
Rabbi Berekhya offers a vivid image. He compares the Nile to a servant being beaten by his master, trying to shield itself from the blows. The Nile kept reversing, trying to avoid the plague, but alas, all its water transformed.
And finally, Rabbi Yosei bar Avin gives us a lesson in interpretation. He points to the verses in Exodus 7:19: "Over the water of Egypt" (generalization), "over their rivers, over their streams, and over their ponds" (detail), "and over all their pools of water" (generalization). He says, using a concept from Jewish hermeneutics, that we can only infer things similar to the detail. So, what does that mean?
Our Rabbis, of blessed memory, add some color to this already unbelievable narrative. They say that even the Egyptians' idols were afflicted with blood, fulfilling Jeremiah's prophecy, "They say to wood: You are my father” (Jeremiah 2:27). And it gets even more personal. Water shared between an Egyptian and a Jew in the same vessel, whether wooden or stone, would turn to blood in the Egyptian's mouth. Some even say their furniture and lavatories were covered in blood! Imagine the sheer horror and disruption to daily life. "The blood was throughout the land of Egypt" (Exodus 7:21), indeed.
So what do we take away from this deep dive into Shemot Rabbah? It's more than just a story of plagues. It's a glimpse into the minds of the Egyptians, their desperate attempts to rationalize and escape the unfolding disaster. It highlights the power of belief, both in sorcery and in the divine. And it reminds us that even in the face of overwhelming evidence, some hearts – like Pharaoh's – can remain stubbornly closed. What does it take to truly open our hearts and minds to the possibility of something beyond our current understanding? Perhaps, that's the real question Shemot Rabbah leaves us to ponder.