And it's a theme that resonates deeply within Jewish tradition, especially when we talk about redemption.
One fascinating passage in Shemot Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Exodus, explores this very idea. It starts with an analogy: Imagine someone who finds a snake, crushes its head, and cuts off its tail. What good is the snake now? The text uses this to illustrate the relationship between Egypt, Edom, and Israel. Egypt enslaved Israel, an act the text describes as "intolerable," and so did Edom.
What did God do in response? Well, for Egypt, God exacted retribution, as we see in Psalms 136:15: "He tossed Pharaoh and his army in the sea." And regarding Edom, Isaiah 63:3 says, "I have trodden a winepress alone." The Divine Spirit proclaims, as Joel 4:19 states, "Egypt shall be desolation, and Edom shall be a desolate wilderness."
But the story doesn't end with destruction. The text in Shemot Rabbah goes on to say that God is destined to redeem Israel from Edom. Israel cries out, as in Daniel 9:16, "'Jerusalem and Your people have become a disgrace to all our surroundings,' and You are not redeeming us?" God answers, "Yes," and even swears an oath that just as God redeemed them from Egypt, so too will God redeem them from Edom.
And here's where it gets really interesting. The passage suggests that even the great nations will see the lowliest of Israel and desire to bow before them, "due to the name that is inscribed on each and every one," echoing Isaiah 49:7: "So said the Lord, Redeemer of Israel, its Holy One, to the despised person, to the abhorred by nations, to the slave of rulers: Kings will see and stand up, [and princes will prostrate themselves]."
To illustrate this, the Midrash offers a vivid parable: Imagine some fine wood lying in a bathhouse, trampled upon by everyone. A high official and his servants, villagers – everyone just walks all over it. But then, the emperor needs a statue, and lo and behold, the only suitable wood is that very piece from the bathhouse!
The craftsmen retrieve it, sculpt it, and place it in the palace. Suddenly, the governor, the duke, the prefect, everyone is bowing before it. The craftsmen can't help but point out, "Yesterday, you were trampling this wood in the bathhouse, and now you are prostrating yourselves to it?" The response? "We are not bowing to it for its own sake, but to the image of the king that is inscribed on it."
The passage connects this to the future, to Gog and Magog, and to the ultimate redemption. Gog's men will say, "Until now we have been doing to Israel what is intolerable…and now we are prostrating ourselves to Israel?" God's response? "Yes, it is due to My name that is inscribed on them," mirroring Isaiah 49:7: "Because of the Lord who is faithful." This echoes Deuteronomy 28:10, where Moses says, "All the peoples of the earth will see that the name of the Lord is called upon you…"
Just as God led Israel out of Egypt with a guiding light, so too will God lead them out of Edom, as Isaiah 52:12 proclaims: "For the Lord will go before you, and the God of Israel will be your rear guard." And as Isaiah 42:9 says, "Behold, the former things have come to pass [and I relate new ones. Before they sprout I will let you hear of them]," fulfilling the prophecy of Joel 4:19: "Egypt shall be desolation, and Edom shall be a desolate wilderness."
So, what does this all mean? It suggests that even in our darkest moments, when we feel most despised and downtrodden, there is the potential for profound transformation and ultimate redemption. The image of God’s name inscribed upon each of us—even when we are at our lowest—is a powerful reminder of our inherent worth and the promise of a brighter future. It's a story of hope, a story of faith, and a story that continues to resonate through the ages.