The passage begins with a rather grand statement from Exodus: "See, I have set you as god to Pharaoh; and Aaron your brother will be your prophet” (Exodus 7:1). But what does it really mean to be "as god"? To explore this, the text cleverly connects this verse to Psalm 24:7: "Lift up your heads, O gates!"
Now, the story takes an unexpected turn. We're transported to the time of King Solomon and the construction of the First Temple in Jerusalem. Remember, Solomon, famed for his wisdom, was bringing the Ark of the Covenant – a sacred chest containing the tablets of the Ten Commandments – into the Kodesh Hakodashim, the Holy of Holies, the most sacred space within the Temple.
Here’s the problem: the Ark was ten cubits wide, and the Temple entrance was also ten cubits wide. Ten cubits cannot fit into ten cubits! Plus, think about the Levites carrying the Ark! How could they possibly squeeze through? Solomon was stumped, embarrassed even. He didn’t know what to do.
So, what did he do? According to our Rabbis, Solomon turned to prayer. But not just any prayer. Rabbi Berekhya, quoting Rabbi Helbo, tells us Solomon brought the coffin of his father, King David, and pleaded with God, "Lord God, do not turn away the face of Your anointed" (II Chronicles 6:42), essentially asking for David's merit to intercede.
The Midrash even suggests that David momentarily came back to life! Solomon was essentially saying, "Master of the universe, do this for the sake of this one!" Immediately, immediately, his prayer was answered. Fire descended from heaven, consuming the offerings, and the glory of God filled the Temple (II Chronicles 7:1).
The Ruach Hakodesh, the Divine Spirit, cried out, "I praise the dead who are already dead more than the living who are still alive" (Ecclesiastes 4:2). It’s a powerful statement about the enduring power of those who lived righteously.
Then, Solomon speaks the words of Psalm 24:7: "Lift up your heads, O gates, and be lifted up, O ancient doors, that the King of glory may come in!" But the gates challenge him: "Who is this King of glory?" (Psalms 24:8). Solomon responds, "The Lord strong and mighty, the Lord mighty in battle!" (Psalms 24:8). When he declares this, the gates are "calmed." Imagine, if he hadn't answered correctly, the gates would have crushed him!
But why call God the "King of glory" in the first place? Here, Shemot Rabbah offers a beautiful interpretation: because God bestows glory upon those who fear Him. The text contrasts this with earthly kings. A human king doesn't let anyone ride his horse or sit on his throne. Yet, God seated Solomon on His own throne, as it is stated: "Solomon sat on the throne of the Lord as king" (I Chronicles 29:23), and allowed Elijah to ride on His "horse" – the whirlwind (II Kings 2:11, Nahum 1:3).
A human king doesn't share his scepter, but God gave His scepter to Moses: "Moses took the staff of God in his hand" (Exodus 4:20). A king doesn't give away his crown, but God will place His crown – the finest gold – upon the messianic king (Psalms 21:4, Song of Songs 5:11).
And finally, a king of flesh and blood doesn't share his garments, but Israel dons the garments of God. What are these garments? Strength! "The Lord is clothed; He has girded Himself with strength" (Psalms 93:1), and He gives this strength to Israel: "The Lord will give strength to His people; the Lord will bless His people with peace" (Psalms 29:11).
The passage concludes by circling back to Moses and Pharaoh. An earthly king doesn't allow anyone to be called by his name, but God called Moses "god" to Pharaoh. Why? Because the wicked Pharaoh had declared himself a god, saying, "My Nile is my own; I made it for myself" (Ezekiel 29:3). So, God says, let Pharaoh see Moses and think, "This is a god."
So, what’s the takeaway? This passage from Shemot Rabbah isn't just a story about moving the Ark or the relationship between Moses and Pharaoh. It's a profound meditation on divine power, humility, and the reciprocal relationship between God and humanity. It reminds us that even the most powerful figures, like Solomon, needed to rely on prayer and the merit of others to achieve their goals. And it suggests that true glory isn't about hoarding power, but about sharing it, bestowing it upon those who are worthy. It challenges us to consider how we, too, can embody God's glory in our own lives.