We often focus on the parting of the Red Sea, a miraculous escape. But what about the pain, the suffering, the sheer terror of those enslaved in Egypt?
The Shir HaShirim Rabbah, a Midrashic collection of interpretations on the Song of Songs, offers a chilling glimpse into this darkness. It’s not an easy read, but it's a vital one. It forces us to confront the depths of despair from which freedom was ultimately forged.
Rabbi Tanhuma, quoting Rabbi Yehuda ben Rabbi Simon, asks a powerful question. We read in Isaiah 43:16 about God making "a way in the sea" and "a path in mighty waters." But, Rabbi Tanhuma asks, is that really the difficult part? No, he answers. The truly difficult feat, the verse continues (Isaiah 43:17), is what God does with the enemy: "Who brings out chariots and horse, an army, and a mighty force." It's not just about the miracle, it's about the justice that follows.
Rabbi Yudan adds a gruesome detail: The Egyptians weren't just defeated, they were hunted down, pursued relentlessly, driven into the very sea that had parted for the Israelites.
But the Midrash doesn't stop there. It dives into the suffering of the Israelite women, painting a heartbreaking picture of their lives under Pharoah. Rabbi Hanan describes how the Egyptians would take Israelite children and hide them in burrows. The Egyptians would then cruelly bring their own children into the Israelite houses, pinch them to make them cry, so that the Israelite babies would cry in response. Then, they would seize the Israelite infants and throw them into the Nile.
"Catch foxes for us, little foxes" (Song of Songs 2:15) is a verse about protecting vineyards, but here it takes on a horrifying new meaning. The Midrash interprets it to mean: "Foxes would catch us." They – the Egyptians – were watching, monitoring, waiting for their chance to throw the Israelite children into the Nile.
How many babies were lost? The text cites Ezekiel 16:7, "[I rendered you] as numerous [revava] as the plants of the field." Revava, the Midrash tells us, can also mean ten thousand. Ten thousand babies, replaced by God's grace. According to Rabbi Levi, the number was even greater – six hundred thousand, a number he derives from Moses's words in Numbers 11:21: "Six hundred thousand men on foot is the people in whose midst I am." Each man, Rabbi Levi suggests, may have lost a child to the Nile.
The cruelty was systematic, calculated. The Egyptians even used their own children, bringing them to the Israelite bathhouses to identify pregnant women. They would note the stage of the pregnancy and, once the baby was born, snatch it from its mother's arms and throw it into the river. Again, the verse "Catch foxes for us, little foxes" is invoked, this time emphasizing the "little foxes" – the Egyptian children used as tools of oppression. It wasn't just about killing; it was about psychological warfare, about breaking the spirit of the enslaved. The word used, "eḥezu" (catch), suggests constant surveillance, a relentless pressure.
This Midrash is unsettling. It's meant to be. It’s a stark reminder that freedom isn't just about miraculous escapes. It's about remembering the suffering that came before, about acknowledging the cost of liberation. It forces us to ask: How do we honor the memory of those who suffered? How do we ensure that such atrocities never happen again?
The Exodus story isn't just a historical event; it's a moral imperative. It calls on us to confront injustice, to stand up for the oppressed, and to remember that even in the darkest of times, hope – and ultimately, redemption – are always possible. It is a story we are commanded to tell, and retell, in every generation.