It’s not just a history lesson; it’s about contrast. About understanding what makes the Promised Land so, well, promising. But what exactly is the comparison trying to tell us?
The Sifrei Devarim, a collection of early rabbinic legal interpretations on the Book of Deuteronomy, dives right into this question. Is it simply saying, "It is not like the land of Egypt"? But what does that even mean?
One thought is that Egypt is portrayed as the "refuse" of all lands. Harsh. But consider this: when the Torah does praise Egypt, it does so with a caveat. Genesis 13:10 says Egypt was "like the garden of the L-rd, like the land of Egypt" – "like the garden of the L-rd for trees; like the land of Egypt for seeds." It’s a qualified compliment. It’s good for certain things, sure, but not everything.
But is that the whole story? Perhaps the comparison highlights something even more specific, something truly demeaning about Egypt. Leviticus 18:3 reminds us of the places "in which you dwelt." Remember when Jacob and his sons were invited to settle in the "best part" of Egypt (Genesis 47:6)? Seems pretty good, doesn't it?
So, is it the place itself that's the problem?
Or maybe, just maybe, it's about timing. The Sifrei Devarim suggests we consider the time when Egypt was being "demeaned," meaning when it was being struck with the plagues. Ouch. So, the phrase "from which you went out" might be the key. While the Israelites were there, Egypt was blessed because of them. But after they left? Not so much. The Israelites’ presence brought a certain divine favor, even to a place that wasn’t inherently special. As we find in Midrash Rabbah, the merit of the patriarchs and matriarchs extended outwards, blessing even the lands they temporarily inhabited. But once that connection was severed, that blessing faded.
What does this all mean for us? It suggests that blessings aren’t just about location, location, location. It’s about presence. About being a source of light and goodness in the world. About bringing a spark of the divine to wherever we find ourselves. And about recognizing that sometimes, what seems like the "best part" of a land might only be temporary, dependent on the spiritual energy we bring to it.
Maybe, just maybe, the comparison isn't about Egypt at all. Maybe it's about us.