How often are we asleep to the sufferings of others Facebook Twitter Email SMS WhatsApp Share By Rabbi Amy Eilberg | January 14, 2000 Sign up for Weekday J and get the latest on what's happening in the Jewish Bay Area. Bo Exodus 10:1-13:16 Jeremiah 46:13-28 I have always puzzled over a core question in Parashat Bo: Why does God repeatedly "harden Pharaoh's heart?" Why does God actively thwart Pharaoh's ability to do tshuvah/ turning? I have heard many answers to this question, but still I do not understand. Yet this year, in studying this extraordinary parashah, I was drawn to examine the places where Pharaoh seems on the verge of an act of tshuvah. Together, these texts provide clues about Pharaoh's character, and a challenge to all of us. Just after Moses and Aaron have announced the coming of the plague of locusts, "Pharaoh's courtiers said to him, 'How long shall this one be a snare to us? Let the men go to worship the Lord their God! Are you not yet aware that Egypt is lost?'" Responding to the courtiers' concerns, Pharaoh calls Moses and Aaron back, and begins to bargain about who exactly may go. Moses' answer: "We will all go, young and old" (Ex. 10:7-9). Pharaoh responds, at least momentarily, to the courtiers' pragmatic, then threatening, approach. At first they counsel a dismissive attitude — Why bother with these troublesome people? — but then they move to the penetrating "Are you not yet aware that Egypt is lost?" Perhaps after all, keeping the Israelites is simply not worth the trouble. Then, for a moment, Pharaoh is stung by their accusation: Don't you get it? He is moved to protect his own reputation, and so for a brief moment, he entertains the possibility of letting the people go. The text then brings us a dramatic description of the devastating plague of locusts, darkening the land and consuming everything green in all of Egypt. Immediately, without prompting, Pharaoh pours out his heart: "Pharaoh hurriedly summoned Moses and Aaron and said, 'I stand guilty before the Lord your God and before you. Forgive my offense just this once, and plead with the Lord your God that He but remove this death from me'" (Ex. 10:16-7). What a remarkable speech. Here is Pharaoh pleading for forgiveness from Moses and from God. He begs Moses to intercede on Egypt's behalf. What happened to the mighty divine emperor? What moved the haughty monarch to virtually drop to his knees, begging HaShem for mercy for his people? But the moment of tshuvah does not last long. God hurls the locusts into the sea, and hardens Pharaoh's heart once again. (Still, one must ask: What might have happened had Pharaoh's heart stayed open just a little longer?) After the plague of darkness, Pharaoh relents one last time. "Be gone from me! Take care not to see me again, for the moment you look upon my face you shall die" (Ex. 10:28). Pharaoh is haughty monarch once again, wresting one last attempt at supremacy, claiming the power to banish Moses and Aaron from his sight. This is icy rage, masking weakness and humiliation. But the Torah brings us one final, definitive picture of Pharaoh, and perhaps with it the answer to the puzzle of God's refusal to let Pharaoh repent. Moses had described to Pharaoh the terrors of the final plague, yet to come. Pharaoh, himself a firstborn, knew that all over his kingdom death would take his people on this terrible night. And what did Pharaoh do? He went to sleep, as it is said, "Pharaoh arose in the night" (Ex. 12:30), arising from a deep sleep. Pharaoh went to sleep that night, knowing that in the night death would ravage his people. What leader could rest, knowing what suffering was to beset his own people? How could he be so utterly callous to the fate of his people, caring only for his hold on his own power? Perhaps this utter callousness is the key to Pharaoh's character. The rabbis want us to take note: How could a monarch sleep in the midst of such suffering? Perhaps this is the message we are to take from the story. How often are we asleep to the suffering of others? How deeply do we get caught up in our own needs, blind to the cries of those near to us? How hard is it to wake us up when someone needs us? How ready are our hearts to open? May this story once again inspire us to awaken to the suffering of others. Rabbi Amy Eilberg Rabbi Amy Eilberg serves as a spiritual director, peace educator, justice activist, and teacher of Mussar. She leads efforts on racial justice and inclusion for the Conservative movement and lives in Los Altos. Learn more about her work at rabbiamyeilberg.com. Also On J. 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