I’m in the middle of making dinner—a bunch of folks are coming over tonight—so this is going to be a very short note. Tomorrow in shul we’ll be reading parshat Bo, which covers the last three plagues inflicted upon the Egyptians, culminating in the commandment to the Israelites to put blood on their doorposts and to celebrate a Passover sacrifice, the final plague of the death of Egypt’s firstborn, and Pharaoh’s final, belated agreement to let the Israelites go.
It’s a section I’ve always loved, in large part for verse 12:32 where Pharaoh’s last words to Moses—after three times telling him to be gone—are “and bless me too.” It’s such a profoundly human touch, a moment of softening that softens the heart of the reader toward a character whose central characteristic has been hard-heartedness.
So, about that hard-heartedness. This parshah famously poses a philosophical problem due to the fact that it is God who hardens Pharaoh’s heart. Not initially—initially Pharaoh hardens his own heart against the pleas of Moses and the Israelites. But by the time we’re in this parshah the text is clearly attributing the hardening of Pharaoh’s heart to God. What does this mean? Does Pharaoh no longer have free will? In what sense then is his escalating punishment just?
A standard way to understand it is by simply saying: no, at this point Pharaoh does not have free will. God hardens Pharaoh’s heart because Pharaoh’s punishment is not complete. For the injustice of centuries of slavery and other crimes, the Egyptians had to face ten plagues, including the death of their first born. If Pharaoh surrendered too early then God would not have the opportunity to punish him sufficiently. A related interpretation, very strongly supported by the text, is that all of this is a kind of demonstration for the nations of the world, inarguable proof of God’s supreme power. The theater and pageantry of the process required the plagues to come in this escalating sequence, required these repeated pleas by Moses and their rebuff. Like Prospero manipulating the other characters in The Tempest to bring the drama to its proper conclusion, God hardened Pharaoh’s heart to make everything happen the way it needed to for maximum effect.
I’m not going to reject either of these interpretations, but I’ve always been drawn toward a different view, one that makes Pharaoh himself more of an active participant and a more central character in the unfolding drama. After the earlier plagues, Pharaoh resists giving in out of interest. He doesn’t want to lose face before his people by surrendering to Moses; he doesn’t want to reveal to other nations that he doesn’t have the most powerful magicians; he doesn’t want to lose the economic benefit of having hundreds of thousands of Israelite slaves; etc. But at a certain point he realizes who he is actually up against: not Moses, not the Israelites, not his own people or other nations who might be observing, but God, the creator of the universe.
At this point it would be rational for Pharaoh to back down. After all, who is he next to the creator of the universe? But this is precisely why Pharaoh does not back down. He may apologize, and admit that perhaps he took things too far; he may bargain, negotiate, compromise, all efforts to establish a kind of parity between himself and God; he may make conciliatory gestures and, when his magnanimity is refused and God’s full demand restated, accuse Moses of being the unjust party—Pharaoh does all of these things. But he will not admit to what at this point he knows to be true: that he is powerless in this contest, and entirely dependent on God’s mercy.
So Pharaoh refuses to let the Israelites go. When the text says that God hardened Pharaoh’s heart, it means that Pharaoh was no longer hardening his heart against the Israelites, refusing to their suffering and show compassion. He’s not thinking about them anymore, no longer listening to his own self-interest and closing his heart to the claims of justice. Now he knows that he can’t win, and that his self-interest lies in submitting to God, repenting, and asking Him for compassion. And that’s what he won’t accept. That’s what he’s closing his heart to. God hardens Pharaoh’s heart in the sense that Pharaoh’s heart is hardened against God, because it is hardened against the possibility that Pharaoh himself might be someone who needs to receive compassion. He’d rather lose his own son than admit that. Until he does.
That’s what I always hear in the climax of the story. Which is why I find Pharaoh’s final line to Moses—“and bless me too”—so moving.
Shabbat shalom.
I, too, have always found a psychologically robust Pharoah a much more palatable reading of the text. Either way, "the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether."