The Book of Exodus, as we all know, begins with the Israelites enslaved in Egypt. "The Lord spoke to Moses and to Aaron in the land of Egypt, saying..." (Exodus 12:1). But Shemot Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on Exodus, asks a pretty bold question: what was the Holy One, blessed be He, doing in Egypt in the first place?

Rabbi Yitzḥak Nappaḥa offers a striking analogy. Imagine a noblewoman who angers the king. He doesn't just banish her; he imprisons her. And, remarkably, he stays with her in prison. People question him: why bother? He responds that as long as he's with her, her reputation remains intact. She won't be further tainted by her surroundings.

The Midrash uses this story to explain God's presence during times of exile. Just as God descended with Jacob to Egypt ("I will go down with you to Egypt," Genesis 46:4), so too, according to Shemot Rabbah, God accompanies Israel in every exile. "For your sakes, I sent [shilaḥti, though the Midrash reads it as shulaḥti, meaning 'I was sent'] to Babylon" (Isaiah 43:14). We even see it alluded to in the hegemonic period of Media: "I will place My throne in Elam" (Jeremiah 49:38) – Elam being synonymous with Media, as Isaiah 21:2 states, "Go up, Elam; besiege, Media."

And Greece? "I will rouse your children, Zion, against your children, Greece, and will set you like the sword of a mighty man. The Lord will be seen over them, and His arrow will emerge like lightning" (Zechariah 9:13–14).

Why? The angels themselves ask God this very question. And God's response is powerful: “All the time that I am with them, they will not acquire a bad name." God's presence is a shield. "I was with them in Egypt, and they were found whole, as it is stated: 'A locked garden, my sister, my bride' (Song of Songs 4:12)." Meaning, they weren't corrupted by the surrounding licentiousness.

Think about it. In Babylon, they proclaimed, "Behold our God whom we serve is able to deliver us" (Daniel 3:17). In Media, Mordechai refused to bow down (Esther 3:2). And in Greece, they resisted writing on an ox horn that they had no part in the God of Israel. According to Ginzberg's Legends of the Jews, this refers to a tradition where Greek rulers demanded such a declaration.

But what about Edom, or Rome? The Midrash poses a rhetorical question: "If the Holy One blessed be He says yes, who will say no, as it is stated: 'Who is this, coming from Edom' (Isaiah 63:1)?" This verse hints at the eventual downfall of Edom.

Rabbi Shmuel bar Naḥman offers another analogy. A wealthy man goes out during the summer. People assume he’s at the threshing floor. But he arrives with a branch of grapes, showing he’s been in the vineyard. Similarly, the idolaters taunt Israel, "Where is their God?" (Deuteronomy 32:37). They sit securely, pampered (Isaiah 47:8). But, the Midrash asks, what will God ultimately do to them?

"I will make My arrows drunk with blood" (Deuteronomy 32:42). He will trample them: "I have trodden a winepress alone" (Isaiah 63:3). And He will tread with His shoe on all the great ones of Edom: "I cast My shoe upon Edom" (Psalms 60:10).

So, what does it all mean? This passage from Shemot Rabbah offers a profound message of hope and resilience. Even in the darkest of times, when exile and oppression seem insurmountable, the Divine Presence is there, safeguarding the integrity and ultimately promising redemption. It's a powerful reminder that even in our own "Egypts," we are not alone.