It's not just about freedom; it's about divine justice, redemption, and the messy, complicated choices people make when faced with monumental events. The ancient rabbis certainly did, and they offer us some truly striking perspectives.
Shemot Rabbah, a classic midrashic collection, delves into the details of the Exodus narrative, painting a vivid picture of that pivotal moment. One passage, Shemot Rabbah 18, focuses on the final plague – the slaying of the firstborn – and its immediate aftermath. It's a brutal event, no doubt. But the rabbis try to understand its nuances.
The text reminds us that the Holy One, blessed be He, performed many miracles for Israel. But this one…it was different. It wasn't just about saving the Israelites; it was about judging those who actively opposed their freedom. The midrash uses a rather harsh analogy, comparing the Egyptians, specifically the firstborn, to animals, referencing Ezekiel 23:20: “Whose flesh is the flesh of donkeys.” It’s a stark image, meant to emphasize the depth of their depravity in the eyes of the divine.
But it doesn't stop there. The midrash expands the scope of the plague, noting that even the firstborn of captives were affected. Why? Because these captives, when offered freedom in exchange for Israel's release, refused. They preferred to remain in bondage rather than see Israel liberated. A chilling choice, isn't it? A choice that sealed their fate. "Therefore, He judged them with [the Egyptians]."
The passage then presents a powerful analogy: a king celebrating his son's celebration by vanquishing his enemies. The king declares that those who rejoice with him are welcome, while those who hate him will share the enemies' fate. Similarly, God celebrated Israel's redemption and extended an invitation. Those Egyptians who were righteous and supported Israel’s exodus joined the Israelites, becoming part of the "mixed multitude" that ascended with them, as described in Exodus 12:38.
But those who opposed Israel’s freedom? They perished with the firstborn. The midrash emphasizes the sheer magnitude of the event, quoting Exodus 12:30: “Pharaoh rose during the night, he, all his servants, and all of Egypt; and there was a great cry in Egypt, as there was no house in which there was no one dead.” The horror and chaos are palpable. The Egyptians, blaming Pharaoh for the catastrophe, were ready to kill him!
It's a moment of utter desperation. Exodus 12:33 tells us that "the Egyptians urged the people, [to hastily send them from the land]." But even in this moment of forced exodus, God's plan unfolds with precision. God declared that the Israelites would not be expelled at night, but rather depart overtly at noon. A statement of power and control.
While the Egyptians were busy urging the Israelites to leave, the Israelites themselves were busy, too. According to the midrash, based on Exodus 12:35, they were gathering possessions from the Egyptians. And Moses, as we find, was occupied with Joseph’s bones and the Tabernacle vessels that our patriarch Jacob had prepared. (See Shemot Rabba 33:8). Imagine that scene – amidst the chaos and grief, the quiet dignity of fulfilling ancient promises.
The passage concludes with a powerful verse from Psalms 58:11: “The righteous shall rejoice when he sees vengeance.” The Israelites witnessed the punishment of their oppressors as they were being redeemed, and they rejoiced. It’s a complicated emotion to grapple with, isn’t it? Joy at the suffering of others, even when those others were your oppressors.
This passage from Shemot Rabbah offers a glimpse into the complexities of the Exodus story. It's not a simple tale of good versus evil. It's a story of choices, consequences, and the long, arduous journey toward freedom, both physical and spiritual. It challenges us to consider the cost of freedom, the nature of justice, and the enduring power of hope, even in the face of unimaginable suffering. What does it mean to truly be free? And what are we willing to do to achieve it?