We often think of him as this monolithic, unyielding villain. But what if there were moments of genuine, albeit fleeting, remorse?
The Book of Exodus tells us that after the devastating plague of hail, Pharaoh finally cracks. He summons Moses and Aaron and declares, "I have sinned this time; the Lord is the righteous one, and I and my people are the wicked ones" (Exodus 9:27). It’s right there in the text. But what does it really mean?
Shemot Rabbah, a classic collection of Midrashic interpretations on the Book of Exodus, dives deeper into this pivotal moment. It asks, what prompted this sudden confession?
The Midrash points back to God’s warning before the plague. God had mercifully told the Egyptians to bring their livestock and servants indoors to escape the hail. "Now send, gather [your livestock…every man and animal that will be found in the field…will die]" (Exodus 9:19). God, in His righteousness – His tzedaka – gave them a chance to avoid the worst of it.
But many Egyptians, blinded by their stubbornness or perhaps their loyalty to Pharaoh, ignored the warning. And tragically, their people and animals in the fields perished. According to Shemot Rabbah, Pharaoh's confession, "I and my people are the wicked ones," acknowledges this very specific failure. They disregarded God's word, and the consequences were devastating.
Following this admission, Pharaoh pleads with Moses: "Entreat the Lord; there has been enough of this mighty thundering and hail, and I will let you go, and you will stay no longer" (Exodus 9:28). Moses agrees to intercede, but with a condition. "As I leave the city," Moses says, "I will spread my hands to the Lord; the thunder will cease, and there will be no more hail; so that you will know that the earth is the Lord's" (Exodus 9:29).
Why did Moses need to leave the city to pray? Shemot Rabbah tells us that Moses didn't want to pray in Egypt because it was "filthy with idols and abominations." He needed to be in a pure space, free from the contamination of idolatry, to effectively communicate with God.
But here's the kicker. Even as Pharaoh is seemingly repenting, Moses sees through him. "And as for you and your servants," Moses declares, "I know that you do not yet fear the Lord God" (Exodus 9:30).
The Midrash emphasizes the depth of Moses' insight. It's not just that Pharaoh didn't fear God then, but that he wouldn't fear God in the future either. Moses knew this was a temporary concession, a fleeting moment of panic rather than a genuine change of heart.
And yet, Moses still stops the hail. Why? So that Pharaoh would "acknowledge the greatness of the Holy One blessed be He." Even if Pharaoh's heart wasn't truly in it, the cessation of the plague would serve as another undeniable demonstration of God's power.
What does this all mean? It reminds us that even in the face of overwhelming evidence, people can still cling to their beliefs and resist change. Pharaoh's story is a cautionary tale about the dangers of stubbornness and the importance of genuine repentance. It also highlights God's patience and willingness to offer opportunities for redemption, even to those who seem least deserving. Perhaps, it also highlights the importance of acting righteously, of tzedaka, even towards those who might be considered our enemies.
It makes you wonder, doesn't it? How often do we, like Pharaoh, offer lip service without truly changing our hearts? And how often does God, like with Pharaoh, offer us chances, even when we don't deserve them?