Rabbi Levi starts us off with a parable. Imagine a king who owns a beautiful orchard. Now, in this orchard, he plants not only fruit-bearing trees – the kind that give you delicious apples and juicy peaches – but also non-fruit-bearing trees. The king's servants, scratching their heads, ask him, "Your Majesty, what good are these trees that don't bear fruit?"
The king, wise as he is, replies, "Just as I need fruit trees for their bounty, I also need the non-fruit-bearing trees. Without them, what would I use to build my bathhouses and furnaces?"
Think about that for a moment. It’s not always about what gives us immediate pleasure or benefit. Sometimes, the things we consider "useless" actually serve a crucial purpose in the grand scheme of things.
So, what does this have to do with Pharaoh and the Israelites, you ask? Well, the text draws a parallel: "Concerning the children of Israel and concerning Pharaoh" – just as praise rises to God from the Garden of Eden, from the mouths of the righteous, so too does it rise from Gehenna – often understood as a sort of purgatory or hell – from the mouths of the wicked.
Wait, praise from Gehenna? How does that work?
The text quotes Psalms 84:7: “They pass through a valley of tears… they render it a place of springs." The Midrash understands this to mean that the wicked, even in their suffering, shed tears that cool Gehenna itself. And from this place of anguish, praise rises to God.
Rabbi Yoḥanan elaborates on what this praise sounds like: “You have said well, You have judged well, You have purified well, You have impurified well, You have condemned well, You have taught well, and You have ruled well.” It’s an acknowledgement, even from the depths of despair, of God's ultimate justice and wisdom.
The story continues. The Garden of Eden, the ultimate reward, is destined to shout, "Give me the righteous! I have no interest in the wicked!" As Psalm 31:7 says, "I hate those who regard empty folly." Eden seeks those who trust in God.
But Gehenna, in turn, is destined to shout, "I have no interest in the righteous! Give me the wicked – those who engage in folly!"
It's a cosmic tug-of-war, a divine sorting process. And here’s the kicker: God says, "Give this one the righteous, and this one the wicked," as Proverbs 30:15 puts it, "The leech has two daughters." According to the commentary, this represents the grave and the two paths emanating from it: the Garden of Eden and Gehenna.
So, what’s the takeaway? This passage from Shemot Rabbah suggests that even the existence of evil, even the suffering in Gehenna, ultimately serves a purpose in God's grand design. It's not that God wants evil, but that the very presence of wickedness provides a contrasting canvas against which the righteousness of the good shines even brighter. It also provides a path for ultimate recognition of God's greatness, even from those furthest away.
It’s a challenging thought, isn't it? The idea that everything, even the things we find most abhorrent, has a place in the divine tapestry. It invites us to consider the complexities of existence, the interplay of light and shadow, and the possibility that even in the darkest corners, there is a flicker of purpose.