Pharaohs Hardened
Heart: Vengeance and Redemption in the Story of Exodus
By Daniel Harris
Certainly one of
the most enduring paradoxes of scriptural narratives is the seemingly
irreconcilable conflict between the free-will of humanity and the sanctity of
divine will. In the stories of Job and Abraham, divine will is born out in the
hearts of people, so much so that we must ask, what is the point? If, in fact,
free-will can be alleviated by the divine, can free-will even exist at all? Is
it a concept predicated on universality?
Perhaps
the most interesting question is why and how. If God can relieve man of his free-will, what
are the conditions of such degradation? That is to say, what willful acts incur
the loss of free-will as divine punishment? It is a question that engenders
questions of sin and redemption. After all, the concept at the heart of the
covenant between God and the Israelites is the epistemological inscription of
sin and redemption, both notions requiring some form of choice.
There
is perhaps nowhere in the scriptures that characterizes these questions more
than the story of the Israelites Exodus from Egypt. For example, in the Exodus story we see God
hardening Pharaohs heart over and over again, such that he will not permit the
Israelites to leave Egypt,
at least not on their own terms. As a result, God unleashes upon Egypt
a series of terrible plagues. This story then begs the question, what is the
purpose of God hardening the Pharaohs heart and the subsequent plagues? Is it
retribution for the persecution of Gods chosen people? If not, what then?
Taken
to abstraction, this question poses a necessary threat to the notion of
covenantal ethics. If God takes free-will from Pharaoh, then He takes from him
the capacity for repentance, or, for that matter, sin, and, therefore,
undermines the covenantal relationship. This problem profoundly needs fixing,
so to speak. Obviously, I am not the first person to wrestle with it.
Commentators of scripture have dealt with this problem for centuries and have
arrived at a series of conclusions about the form and function of Gods
actions.
One
approach to the problem might be to make an ontological distinction between the
Israelites and the Egyptians. That is to say, we might claim that the covenant
does not apply to the Egyptians because they are not Gods chosen people.
However, this is a profoundly dangerous way of thinking. After all, to claim
that a people are not worthy of a covenantal relationship is to undermine not only
their possession of free-will, but indeed their capacity for free-will.
It has a dehumanizing effect that might, if we extrapolate this ontological
distinction to the modern world, rationalize any number of atrocities. Luckily
for us, we can recognize the covenantal ethics with the hardening of Pharaohs
heart without making such an ontological distinction.
In
order to reconcile the problem of Pharaohs hardened heart with the seeming
undermining of the covenantal ethics, I will consider the commentaries of four
prominent thinkers on the subject. First, I will look at the exegesis of Rashi,
who sees Pharaoh as an inadequate covenantal partner, not capable of repentance
for his actions. Second, I will consider Nahmanides, who considers the
hardening of Pharaohs heart not as a contradiction to the covenantal ethics,
but rather a function of the covenantal relationship. Third, I will consider
Maimonides, who sees free-will as a function of the covenantal relationship
and, therefore, a blessing that can be withdrawn as a result of sin. That is to
say, Pharaoh was evil of his own free-will and consequently deserved the
punishment that he received. Finally, I will consider the work of Origen who in
some sense agrees with Maimonides but who also, in Christian fashion, centers
his exposition much more on the nature of free-will than on assuming free-will
as a starting point.
R.
Shlomo ben Isaac, known as Rashi, takes a traditional exegetic approach to the
problem by noting in the Exodus a basic contradiction. That is, in Exodus 7:3,
God says to Moses, I will harden Pharaohs heart, and though I multiply my
signs and wonders in the land
of Egypt. However, until
the sixth plague, the scriptures say that God hardens Pharaohs heart. While at first it seems as though God treats
Pharoah harshly here, Pharaoh can stop the plagues at any moment simply by
letting the people go. Then, however, Pharaohs recalcitrance makes him an
inadequate covenantal partner. As a
result, Pharaoh loses the capacity to repent through his own free-will, a function
of the covenant that Pharaoh implicitly rejects.
Rashi
seems to be hinting at a philosophical answer to the questions raised by the
hardening of Pharaohs heart, but, being a pure exegete, he really does not
elaborate. In my analysis, however, Rashi suggests a solution to the
philosophical problem of the Exodus narrative. That is, the free-will which
humans enjoy is not an a priori property of humanity. Free-will,
instead, is a function of the covenantal relationship with God. As such, we are
all born with the capacity to act freely, but once we expressly reject the
covenantal relationship by denying the divine authority of God, our capacity
for free-will is also rejected. After all, it can be argued that the function
of free-will is to create the capacity for repentance, but we cannot repent if
we do not recognize the nature of our sin. This notion, suggested by the
exegesis of Rashi, ties into the more philosophical approach of Nahmanides who,
as Shaul Magid points out, draws this episode into the covenantal ethics and
interprets Gods actions as just in light of Pharaohs sinful behavior.[1]
Nahmanides,
in his exegetic/philosophical approach to the Exodus narrative, tends to
distance himself from the questions of free-will that we are attempting, in
this paper, to reconcile with Gods actions. Nahmanides states, in his
commentary on Exodus 7:3: when the plagues intensified and [Pharoah] began to
suffer from them, his heart began to suffer from them and he was wont to free
them [the Israelites] because of the plagues and not because of the divine
will. Here, Nahmonides explores an idea that I see as the central function of
God hardening Pharaohs heart. Our discomfort with Gods seemingly unjust
action is that, from a first reading, Pharaoh appears ready to repent after the
fifth plague, at which point God hardens his heart against such a repentance.
However, upon closer inspection, Pharaoh is still not ready to repent, only to
relent to pressure.
Nahmanidess
approach to the problem then brings us to an important subtext of the Exodus
narrative. When Moses originally approached Pharaoh about releasing the
Israelites from captivity, it was highly unlikely that Pharaoh would agree.
After all, Pharaoh had an empire to run and it was an empire whose economy was
predicated on slave labor. In that context, his recalcitrance may be understood
in an essentially pragmatic light. What was missing from his worldview,
however, was the recognition of Gods divine authority. Thus, when he relented
to Moses demands after the fifth plague, it was not out of a genuine
repentance and understanding of Gods will, but rather the same pragmatic
concern. It is more difficult for
Pharoah to deal with the ravages of the plagues than it would have been to let
the Israelites go on their way. In this construct, God hardened Pharaohs heart
because Pharaoh still missed the point. That is, he still did not regard God as
the singular divine authority.
Maimonides
approach to scriptural commentary is more philosophical rather than exegetic.
That is, he aims to reconcile the hardening of Pharaohs heart with an abstract
philosophical or legal ethic rather than making sense of a single verse or the
narrative as a whole. As such, Maimonidess central claim is that free-will can
be taken from those whose sins are grave enough. As he writes in his Laws of
Teshuva:It is
possible that a person may commit a grave transgression, such that the True
Judge rules that punishment for this sinner
is that teshuva will be withheld
from him.[2] So, Maimonidess position is fairly
straightforward: our free-will is ordained by our covenantal relationship with
God and, if our sins are grave enough, as the Pharaohs apparently were, then
free-will can be stripped from us.
Rashi,
Maimonides, and Nahmanides each take different approaches to understanding the
hardening of Pharaohs heart, but they all still have a common purpose. That
is, they attempt to understand the means and motives of Gods actions, in
addition to formulating a reasonable basis for the divine will. Interestingly
enough, they also have Judaism in common. That is, they express a tradition in
Jewish theology to alleviate, through exegetical or philosophical expositions,
the uneasiness many might feel when reading scriptural narratives. This,
however, is a notion that tends to be lost on many Christian theologians who often
preface their theological expositions by saying that it is not for human minds
to know the nature of Gods actions. This is plainly evident in the Christian
theologian Origens treatment of the hardening of Pharaohs heart.
In
principle, Origen tends to mirror Maimonidess thoughts on the subject. That
is, he asserts that sins exist grave enough for God to strip man of his
free-will and subsequently the capacity for repentance. However, it is
important in order to differentiate Jewish from Christian theology to note that
the entire precept of free-will is a bit dubious in Christian theology. As
such, Origens writing on the hardening of Pharaohs heart is not so much about
Gods action in this particular narrative, but rather the form and function of
free-will in Christian theology as a whole. Origens exposition is largely
based on the notion that the same merciful act of God can have different effects
on different people, hardening one and softening the other.[3] Paul, in Hebrews 6:7-8 for example, says that
for land, which has drunk the rain that often falls upon it, and brings forth
vegetation useful to those for whose sake it is cultivated, receives a blessing
from God. But if it bears thorns and thistles, it is worthless and near to
being cursed, its end is to be burned. In this analogy, the land that is
plowed and well-tended yields fruits and vegetation that are helpful and good.
However, the untended, poorly maintained land yields thorns and thistles. As
such, Gods actionbringing the rainand the quality of the land are the same.
So, it is the action of the landowner, i.e. the man, which determines whether Gods
action will be a blessing or a curse. In
this context, we may interpret Gods decree that I will harden Pharaohs
heart in an altogether different light. That is to say, we may understand it
as a colloquialism.
Consider,
for example, an overly friendly and accommodating boss who says to a lazy employee,
I spoil you. In this context we understand that the boss does not spoil his
employee by taking his free-will from him. Rather, he is saying that, even
though the employee is lazy and not doing his job, the boss has been too easy
on him. This analogy works quite nicely with the Exodus narrative, noting that
the first three plagues God inflicts upon Egypt are, in fact, replicated by
the Pharaohs own magicians. As such, we may be able to soften Gods meaning
when he says, before Moses approaches Pharaoh, that he will harden Pharaohs
heart in Exodus 4:21 and Exodus 7:3. This interpretation, however, raises some
questions of its own. In particular, why would God bother with such minor
plagues, if he knew that they would not sway the Pharaoh towards recognition of
divine authority?
We
might explore such considerations when we juxtapose this interpretation with
Romans 9:17: I have raised you [Pharaoh] up for the very purpose of showing my
power in you If we take the two together, we come to an interesting
interpretation of the Exodus narrative: Gods motive, or at least one of his
motives, was to demonstrate the nature of divine prophecy. Events that we might
consider miraculous can only be so if they are foretold by some manner of
divine revelation. Conversely, the truth of what one sees as divine revelation
can only be ascertained by the manifestation of the predictive revelation. Is
it then possible that the first three plagues were to secure Moses and the rest
of the Israelites in the truth of Moses revelation? A bit of a stretch
perhaps, but nonetheless possible. Now we come to the unifying idea of this
paper.
The
uneasiness that people feel as a result of the Exodus narrative can be summed
up in our seeing Gods actions as fundamentally unjust. In Genesis 12:3, God
promises to Abraham, Him who curses you I will curse. And likewise, God promises to deliver the
Israelites from slavery in Egypt.
However, we can scarcely argue with the assertion that vengeance is not justice
and also that to say that Gods will shall come to pass is tautological. The uneasiness we feel then seems to be
engendered by the notion that the ten plagues and all the suffering that they
caused was unnecessary. After all, if God is all powerful, then with the mere
proverbial snap of his fingers, the Israelites would find themselves
miraculously transported from Egypt
to the Promised Land. Superficially then, we might see Gods unleashing of the
mighty plagues as a form of retribution, a grand punishment upon the Pharaoh
who callously persecuted Gods chosen people. But, as I have said, vengeance is
not justice and vengeance on such a grand scale certainly seems particularly unjust.
What then is the point?
The
commentaries I discussed in this paper point to common conclusion. Namely,
Gods actions were not a function of some malicious retributive will, but
rather a demonstration of divine authority with a fundamentally redemptive
purpose. God laid the plagues upon Egypt so that the Pharaoh, and by
extension the Egyptians, might see the power of Gods divine will and enter
into the covenant of their own volition. In this context, the hardening of
Pharaohs heart was not so that God would continue to lay curses upon Egypt
but rather so that the Egyptians shall know that [he is] the LORD. (Exodus
14:4). The hardening of Pharaohs heart would be necessary for the completion
of that goal. As I said previously, even when Pharaohs heart softens a bit and
he relents to Moses demands, he still misses the point. He does not understand
and does not wish to enter into a covenantal relationship with God. Even before
Pharaohs heart was hardened against letting Moses and his people leave on
their own terms, his heart was already hardened to the nature of Gods divine
authority.
Using
this perspective, we can go back through the Exodus narrative and begin to
realize that Gods actions are plainly stated in the text, that Gods most
sincere wish was that the people of Egypt would accept the covenantal
relationship and follow the Israelites into the Promised Land. We see, for
instance, in Exodus 12:49 that God decrees, There shall be one law for the
native and stranger who sojourn among you.
We see in this verse a clear statement of purpose. God wished to
demonstrate his power in the land of Egypt so that the people of Egypt would have accepted his
authority and entered into the covenantal relationship. Once they accept, then
they can, in effect, become one of Gods chosen people. So, it is the divine
wish that not only the Israelites be freed from Egypt,
but also that, paradoxically, that the Egyptians be freed from Egypt,
for their enslavement at the hands of Pharaoh was much different. It was, in
essence, an enslavement of the soul, a bondage that prevented them from knowing
God as the Israelites did.
I
will conclude now with an observation that may help to bring the Exodus story
into perspective. Judaism, and subsequently Islam and Christianity, are unique
in that they expose the moral universe in which we live through narrative form
rather than through philosophical or pseudo-scientific doctrines. Perhaps it is
the all-encompassing point of all the exegesis and interpretation that the
function of Gods actions in the Exodus was to, paradoxically, create the
narrative. As I have written, to say that the will of God shall come to pass is
tautological; however, that we humans, in our capacity to act freely, will
fulfill our part in bringing about the divine will is not. So, in the end,
perhaps it is the point that the story might be written and that future
generations might read that story and, through it, understand the challenge of
fulfilling mans covenant with God. As such, we may see in Moses the essence of
ourselves. Moses is the prototypical
anti-hero. God, however, promises Moses that He will stand by him. It was faith that sustained Moses and gave
him the courage to stand up to what was then the most powerful king on earth.
When we read the story of the Exodus and find a bit of ourselves in Moses, we
understand that it is faith in the reciprocation of the covenantal devotion by
God that may free us from whatever bondage in which we might find ourselves.
ENDNOTES
[1] Shaul Magid, "Pharaoh's Hardened Heart: Cruel and Unusual Punishment and Covenantal Ethic," Journal of Scriptural Reasoning Vol.2, No.2 (September 2002); http://jsr.lib.virginia.edu/issues/volume2/number2/ssr02-02-e01.html
[2] Moses Maimonides, Mishnah Torah, laws of Repetence: 2:1
[3] Origen, First Things, bk. 3. chap 1.
© 2007, Society for Scriptural Reasoning
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