"He said to his people: Behold, the nation of the children of Israel is more numerous and mighty than us" (Exodus 1:9). This is Pharaoh, setting the stage for oppression. But Shemot Rabbah doesn't just let the verse sit there. It digs deeper. "He began with the counsel first; therefore, he was punished first." A fascinating idea, right? The one who instigates the bad advice bears the brunt of the consequences. As it says, "Upon you, upon your people, and upon all your servants, [the frogs will rise]" (Exodus 7:29).
Then comes the chilling line: "Let us be shrewd with it, lest it increase, and it shall be that if a war will occur, it too will join our enemies and wage war against us and it will ascend from the land” (Exodus 1:10). Notice something? It doesn't say "with them," but "with it." What does that mean?
Rabbi Ḥama son of Rabbi Ḥanina offers a striking interpretation. Pharaoh, he suggests, is saying: "Come let us be shrewd with the God of these." He's trying to outsmart the Divine! They consider using the sword, but realize, "And with His sword all flesh" (Isaiah 66:16). So, they decide on water, figuring they're safe because God swore not to bring another flood, "As I took an oath that the waters of Noah would no longer pass over the earth" (Isaiah 54:9).
But here's the catch. They misunderstand the oath! The oath was about a global flood, not a localized one targeting just the Israelites. It's like trying to find a loophole in a divine contract. The midrash picks up on this, interpreting Psalms 63:11 ("They will be hurled [yagiruhu] to the sword [ḥarev]; they will be prey for the foxes [shualim]") as: He will entice [yegareh] them with dry land [ḥorev], into the waters of the sea [sha’al yam].
And the poetic justice? “As it was in the matter that they conspired [against them]” (Exodus 18:11) – in the pot in which they cooked, they were cooked. They sought to drown the Jewish boys in the river; they were drowned in the Red Sea. Measure for measure.
Rabbi Ḥiyya, quoting Rabbi Simon, points out the key players in this disastrous counsel: Bilam, Job, and Yitro (Jethro). Bilam, the advisor, was killed. Job, who stayed silent, was punished with suffering. But Yitro, who fled, his descendants were rewarded. They got to sit in the Chamber of Hewn Stone, a place of honor and authority, as we see in I Chronicles 2:55 and Judges 1:16. Silence, in the face of injustice, carries a price. Action, even flight, can lead to unexpected blessings.
And then there's that strange phrase: "…and it will ascend from the land” (Exodus 1:10). It doesn't say "we" will ascend, but "it" will ascend. Rabbi Abba bar Kahana explains it beautifully: "It is like a person who curses himself but ascribes his curse to another." Pharaoh's fear isn't really about the Israelites leaving; it's about them overcoming the Egyptians.
Alternatively, the midrash suggests something even more profound: "…and it will ascend from the land,” any time that Israel reaches the ultimate depths, they ascend." It's a cyclical pattern. Despair leads to rising. As David says in Psalms 44:26: “Our soul is bent to the dust; our belly cleaves to the earth.” And the response? “Rise up, be our savior; redeem us for the sake of Your kindness” (Psalms 44:27).
So, what can we take away from this ancient text? Perhaps it's a reminder that fear-based decisions rarely end well. That those who instigate harm often suffer the consequences. And that even in the deepest darkness, there’s always the potential for ascent, for redemption, for rising from the dust.