Let’s dive into that, drawing from the ancient wisdom of Shemot Rabbah, a classic rabbinic commentary on the Book of Exodus.
In Exodus 3:20, God says, "I will extend My hand, and smite Egypt with all My wonders that I will perform in its midst; after that he will let you go." Shemot Rabbah unpacks this, connecting it directly to God’s promise to Abraham in Genesis 15:14: "And also that nation which they will serve, I will judge." The plagues weren't just random acts of divine power. They were a carefully calibrated punishment, "to fit their crime." God, according to this understanding, intentionally hardened Pharaoh’s heart. Why? So the punishment, and therefore the justice, could be fully realized. Only after the full measure of retribution was complete, would Pharaoh finally release the Israelites.
But the story doesn't end with freedom. It continues with wealth. Exodus 3:21 promises, "I will give this people favor in the eyes of the Egyptians, and it will be when you go, you will not go empty-handed." Again, Shemot Rabbah links this back to God's promise to Abraham: "And afterward they will emerge with great wealth" (Genesis 15:14).
Now, here's where it gets really interesting. The commentary suggests that God had to ensure the Israelites left with riches. Why? To silence any potential claim from Abraham himself! Imagine Abraham saying, "You fulfilled the part about servitude and affliction (Genesis 15:13), but what about the 'great wealth' (Genesis 15:14)?" God, in essence, preemptively addresses this potential grievance by orchestrating the "spoiling of the Egyptians."
Exodus 3:22 details how this would happen: "Every woman shall ask of her neighbor, and of she who lives in her house, silver vessels, and gold vessels, and garments; and you shall place them upon your sons, and upon your daughters; and you shall despoil the Egyptians." Shemot Rabbah emphasizes the significance of the garments, noting how essential they were for dignity and avoiding shame, "as when a person sets out on the road, if he lacks garments, he is embarrassed."
And that word, "venitzaltem" – "you shall despoil" – is particularly striking. The commentary interprets it powerfully: the Israelites were "destined to make Egypt like the depths [metzulot] that have no fish." Utterly emptied.
So, what are we to make of all this? The Exodus isn’t just a story of liberation; it's a complex narrative of divine justice, fulfilled promises, and even, arguably, a pre-emptive defense against potential ancestral claims! It challenges us to consider the multifaceted nature of God's actions and the intricate web of promises and obligations that underpin the Jewish story. It makes you wonder, doesn't it: what does it truly mean to be free, and what are we entitled to after suffering?