We often think of Moses, armed with divine authority, as the driving force behind the Israelites' liberation. But what about Pharaoh? Did he simply cave to the plagues, or was there more to the story?
Our sages delve into this question in Shemot Rabbah, a rich collection of Midrashic interpretations on the Book of Exodus. Specifically, Shemot Rabbah 20 offers a fascinating perspective on the verse "It was when Pharaoh let the people go..." (Exodus 13:17). It begins by quoting Psalms 147:15, "He sends His command to earth." The Midrash contrasts God's unwavering word with the fleeting pronouncements of the wicked. Pharaoh, in his arrogance, declared, "I will not let Israel go!" (Exodus 5:2). But God countered, "Let My people go!" (Exodus 5:1). Whose word would prevail?
The Midrash paints a dramatic picture: ultimately, Pharaoh himself arose, humbled and defeated, and fell at Moses' feet, begging the Israelites to leave (Exodus 12:31). It's a powerful image of divine authority triumphing over earthly power. God, in essence, asks Pharaoh: "What then, Pharaoh, did your word stand, or My word?" Hence the verse, "He sends His command to earth," which is fulfilled "when Pharaoh let the people go."
But here's where it gets interesting. The Midrash anticipates a potential objection: if God was the one who truly freed the Israelites, why does the Torah attribute the act of letting them go to Pharaoh? After all, Balaam later says, "God, who took them out of Egypt" (Numbers 24:8).
The answer, according to Shemot Rabbah, is surprising. The phrase "letting them go" (shiluaḥ) in this context implies something more than just releasing the Israelites from bondage. It suggests accompaniment. The Midrash draws a parallel to Genesis 18:16, where Abraham "went with them to see them off" (leshalleḥam). So, the Midrash interprets that Pharaoh was actually accompanying the Israelites on their departure, pleading with them, "Pray and beg for mercy for me!" (Exodus 12:32). "Take both your flocks and your herds, as you said, and go; and bless me, too" (Exodus 12:32).
Think about that for a moment. Pharaoh, the once-proud and defiant ruler, now humbled and begging for blessings from the very people he enslaved. It flips the script on the Exodus narrative, adding a layer of complexity to Pharaoh's character and his role in the Israelites' liberation.
What does this Midrash teach us? Perhaps it highlights the subtle ways in which even those who oppose God's will can ultimately become instruments in its fulfillment. Pharaoh's initial resistance only served to amplify God's power, and his eventual "accompaniment" suggests a begrudging acknowledgment of that power. Maybe, just maybe, it even hints at the possibility of redemption, even for the most hardened of hearts. It certainly gives us pause to consider the multifaceted nature of power, free will, and divine providence.