The Torah is full of stories that grapple with these very questions, and one passage in Shemot Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Exodus, really dives into the deep end when it comes to Pharaoh and his stubborn heart.
The verse in question: “As I have hardened his heart” (Exodus 10:1). It's a loaded statement, isn't it?
Rabbi Yoḥanan, in Shemot Rabbah 13, raises a crucial point. Doesn't this verse give ammunition to heretics – those who deny divine justice – to argue that Pharaoh never had a real chance to repent? If God hardened his heart, was Pharaoh just a puppet in a divine play?
Rabbi Shimon ben Lakish isn't having it. "Let the mouths of the heretics be sealed!" he exclaims. And then he offers a powerful counter-argument, drawing on Proverbs 3:34: "To the scorners He scorns." The idea is that God doesn't just arbitrarily harden hearts. There's a process, a series of warnings.
According to Rabbi Shimon ben Lakish, the Holy One, blessed be He, warns a person not once, not twice, but three times! He gives ample opportunity to turn back, to choose a different path. But if someone consistently refuses to listen, if they repeatedly scorn the warnings, then – and only then – does God "lock his heart from repentance" in order to exact retribution for his sins. It's a consequence, not a predetermined fate.
And that, the rabbis argue, is precisely what happened with the wicked Pharaoh. God sent him warning after warning – five times, no less! – through Moses and Aaron. Each plague was a chance to relent, to let the Israelites go. But Pharaoh, in his arrogance and defiance, disregarded every single one.
So, what did God do? "You were stubborn and hardened your heart; behold, I will add impurity to your impurity," the text says. That is: “As I have hardened [hikhbadti] his heart.”
But what does hikhbadti really mean in this context? The text offers a vivid image. The Holy One, blessed be He, rendered Pharaoh's heart like a liver that has been cooked twice, becoming impossibly hard and unyielding. A liver, normally pliable, becomes tough and resistant after repeated cooking. Similarly, Pharaoh's heart, through his repeated refusals, became hardened to the point where he could no longer accept the words of the Holy One, blessed be He.
Ultimately, this passage isn't about a God who manipulates free will. It's about a God who offers chances, who extends grace, but who also holds us accountable for our choices. Pharaoh wasn't a victim; he was a participant in his own downfall. He chose to harden his own heart, and ultimately, he faced the consequences.
It makes you wonder, doesn't it? How many chances do we get? And what are we doing with them?