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In short, “yes it is.” The longer version is, “yes, absolutely it is!”
But don’t take it from us either, at Adir Press, we want you to see for yourselves, so we’re bringing you the first two-and-a-half chapters below (including including all of the Torah-Source-End Notes).
The book is 408 pages long, so even when you get through these sample pages, know that you’ve only reached the top of the ice-berg (or pyramid)
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Chapter 1 is below, but here’s the summary from the back cover:
In the land of Egypt, the Hebrews are multiplying at an alarming rate. Hate is mounting. Fear is rising. And Pharaoh is determined to destroy them. The Hebrews are bound in shackles. Their babies thrown into the Nile.
But inside the palace walls, there are secrets.
For not everyone is bent on their destruction. Tia, an Egyptian aristocrat, loyal maidservant to Princess Basya, is a traitor to the throne. And she is not the only one. But secrets cannot be kept forever, and in a world filled with lies and hate, treachery comes at a terrifying cost.
This gripping historical novel is a searing tale of survival and courage in the darkest of times. Based entirely on Torah sources, The Last Slave takes the reader on an epic journey from Pharaoh’s palace to the pit of Ramses to the ultimate redemption from Egypt. Endure the heartache of slavery. Live through the awe-inspiring miracles. Feel as if you left Egypt in this poignant and immersive novel from despair to deliverance.
Intended for a mature audience due to the graphic description of slavery.
—
“This is a gripping novel. Hard to put down . . . Everyone should read it to prepare themselves for a very different reading of the Haggada.”
– Rabbi Dr. Akiva Tatz
Tia
Chapter One
I was born to hate.
Father says I was born for the palace. Born to make him proud. But we both know the truth. First comes hate, the black canvas onto which we paint our lives. Then comes everything else. It is us against them, and to be us is to despise.
Hate hangs heavy in the air like a shroud over Egypt. Rushing through the reeds on the riverbank. Sweeping like a sandstorm over the glorious Nile. Whistling on the desert breeze. Growing louder and louder until it is all you can hear. For the Hebrews are multiplying. And so is our hate.
Father says it is our sacred duty as faithful Egyptians to abhor them with the burning passion of a thousand gods—a skill he executes flawlessly. My burning gods of rage, however, leave something to be desired. But at fourteen years of age, I have ample time to become a master like Father. I must if I am to consider myself a loyal Egyptian.
Everywhere you go, there are Hebrews.[1] You can spot them straight away. Every one of them is tall and strong; the picture of perfect health, outliving even the most ancient Egyptians.[2] They clothe themselves in princely garments and regal turbans. They do not dress like us or speak like us, and they certainly do not behave like us.[3] They are otherworldly, almost. Father says thousands of them are being born a night, and by the looks of it, he is not exaggerating. The women give birth to six babies at a time. Every nine months! How is it even possible to hold six babies in one womb? Never mind the fact that every one of them is born healthy and whole. [4]
I am mulling this over while we wait for Mother to join us for our evening meal. Father is reviewing today’s scripts from the palace with a pinched face. He plucks his cropped, black wig off his head and rubs a wet cloth over his sweaty brow. The setting sun sweeps its last rays through the tall, high windows, illuminating the droplets on his bald head. He pulls the scroll taut, his mouth set in a thin line.
“Something has got to be done about them,” he mutters under his breath before fixing his wig back in place.
I do not need to ask who them is. There is only one them.
The sheer linens dance at the windows in the warm breeze, brushing the gleaming blue river tiles on the floor, infusing the room with the sweet scent of date palms from the courtyard outside. Servant girls move about soundlessly, lighting the oil lamps affixed to the wall. Their long shadows stretch across the room, casting an eerie, reddish glow upon the painted Nile scenes adorning the walls.
Father is still muttering angrily at his scroll when Mother sweeps into the room, late, as usual, eyes and eyebrows freshly painted, her massive wig generously perfumed with her favorite jasmine fragrance. The rich, floral scent fills the room. Smoothing out the pleats in her immaculate white gown, she takes a seat. The gold beads in her wig chime like little bells. She smiles at Father, dips her henna-painted fingers into the silver bowl of rose water, and arcs an eyebrow at the nearest servant. A platter of bread is hurriedly placed in the center of the table, and we begin our meal. Father talks palace politics while Mother clucks and sympathizes, interrupting only a handful of times to bemoan the neighbor’s new hibiscus trees.
A servant girl clears away the bread, another pours rose water over our hands, while another silently slips a dish of honey-basted gazelle on the table. Father is still talking about the Hebrews when the dessert arrives. It is all anybody talks about these days.
“There are more Hebrews than Egyptians!”[5] he says. “It’s a national crisis.”
“It’s outrageous,” says Mother. “I can hardly walk two feet without bumping into one of them.”
“It seems to me,” I say, popping a slice of sweet, moist cake into my mouth, “that the Hebrews are not bound by the laws of nature.”
The servants freeze. Mother’s mouth hangs open. I plunge ahead undeterred, intent on enlightening them with my profound revelation. “They multiply like fish. They’re a marvel! They’re—”
“Disgusting!”[6] Father spears me a look that could fell a hawk. “They strut through the streets as if they own them. Flaunt their wealth in our faces.[7] They are thieves who suck the lifeblood out of Egyptian soil.”
“But Father, was it not Yosef who saved us from famine and brought prosperity to our land?[8] Should we not be grateful?”
Father lurches across the table and yanks me up by my side lock. “His name was Tzaphnas-Paneach![9] And he was a dreamer. An impostor! His name will be erased from the Egyptian annuls. Mark my word, Tia, by the time Pharaoh is through with them, the Hebrews will be nothing but an empty blot in history! No one will even remember their existence.” He releases my braid and stares me back down to my place.
I fix my eyes on the half-eaten cake before me, determined to stay quiet. Father drains his wine and bangs the goblet on the table with an angry thunk. A servant girl hastens to refill it, scurrying away the moment his cup is full.
My mind is reeling from Father’s words. What does he mean, blot them from history? How far will we go to quench our hate? And before I can stop myself, the words are tumbling out, “But you cannot just erase an entire nation from the records.” I slap my hand over my mouth, but it is too late. Father is on his feet, his face twisted in fury, hands clutching the edge of the table. “Is this what you have been groomed for since birth? Is this what your tutor has been teaching you? Heresy? In two days, you will be inducted into the palace. If you wish to keep your head, you will do well to hold your tongue.”
Father sinks back into his chair and takes a long draft of wine as if dealing with me saps him of all strength. Like I am nothing but one disappointment after the next. He turns to Mother. “She’ll send me to an early grave,” he says, speaking about me as if I’m not here. “Why must she talk so much?”
I don’t mean to talk so much. He makes it sound like I do it on purpose. It’s not my fault words just kind of fall out of my mouth.
“I know, Haker,” says Mother. She always takes his side. She gives a loud sigh like the whole world is bearing down on her delicate shoulders. “She was talking like a grown woman before she could walk.”
“Well, now it has to stop. In the palace, one slip of the tongue could cost her throat!”
“I’m just curious!” I blurt out.
“Why must you always speak out of turn?” shouts Father. “Curiosity is dangerous. Curiosity kills!”
“I’m only saying.”
“SILENCE!” Father roars, pounding his fist on the table. He rises to his feet, and his long shadow creeps across the table. He strides across the room and takes his wooden staff off the hook on the wall. I breathe in with relief, glad that he is leaving and this conversation is over at last. Fresh air usually calms him down. But then he turns. His dark eyes bore into mine, and a panicked shiver scuttles up my spine. He stands there glaring at me, turning the staff in hand, and begins to walk toward me.
With each slow step, he smacks the staff in the palm of his hand.
Smack.
Step.
Smack.
Step.
My heart pulses frantically inside of me. His eyes are so hard and so angry, I know he’s going to hit me. Teach me a lesson before I enter the palace. Beat the disobedience out of me, once and for all. Blood rushes in my ears. He stops at the edge of the table.Slams the staff into his palm. I desperately clutch onto the amulet hanging from my neck, expecting the worst, when abruptly, he tears his smoldering gaze away from me and looks down at the staff nestled in his hands. He gently runs his palms up and down the rich wood as though he’s caressing a newborn babe, and—
Slam.
He smashes the staff on the table, right on top of the honey cake. I scream. The bowl shatters. Clay shards and honey cake go flying. Mother lets out a shriek, scrambling among the debris in a futile attempt to put the pieces back together while screeching at the servants to do something.
Father shoots me a look like I was the one who made him break the dish. Then he fixes his scalding gaze on his precious staff and starts mumbling under his breath. Strange, guttural words roll of his tongue, sharp and fast like the plummeting rapids. His chanting gets louder and louder. Stronger and stronger. And to my horror, the staff begins to rattle.
It judders violently, bending in on itself like it’s made of thick rope. Writhing and twisting and flicking the goblets off the table. The wood starts to ripple with black and yellow scales, transforming into my worst nightmare.
A snake.
Panic gurgles at the back of my throat. Father knows I am petrified of snakes. He knows. I am gulping back the scream that is mauling my throat raw. The cobra slithers along the table, heading straight for me. Hissing and hissing. Flicking its black forked tongue in and out. It’s only magic, I tell myself.[10] It’s not real. But the fear is so real it’s choking me. The snake raises its hooded head. Pins me to my chair with its beady, black eyes. My heart smashes against my ribs. And my mind is taken over by harrowing scraps of a long-suppressed memory. The Snake lunging at me. The little girl crying. The fire in my leg. The crying and screaming and begging Father to stop.
I can’t breathe. I’m gasping and gasping and gasping for breath. Desperately sucking in air that’s too thin. I’m suffocating. The snake on the table hisses and spits.It bares its massive jaw. Black mouth. Huge fangs. A terrified scream shreds my throat to pieces. But the louder I scream, the louder the little girl screams inside my head. Father reaches down, grabs the serpent by the tail, and yanks it up. At once, it snaps back into the wooden staff it always was.
I am trembling all over, still struggling to catch my breath, gasping great mouthfuls of air. The servants stand as far away as possible, eyes averted, trying to dissolve into the walls. Father glowers at me, an angry tick pulsing at his temple.
Mother shakes her head in great disapproval. “Such drama over an enchanted snake.” I clamp my mouth shut to conceal my chattering teeth. Force myself to suck in thick breaths through my nose. “It’s high time she got over it, Haker. She can’t go making a spectacle of herself every time she sees one. The Snake Incident happened years ago.”
That’s what she calls it—The Snake Incident. Like the Kohl Incident when I was seven and accidentally dropped her pot of eye powder on her chamber room floor. Or the Geese Incident when I mistakenly left the courtyard door open, and two geese got into the house and pecked a hole in her new linens. Every mishap goes into the annals of Tia-related Incidents for Mother to bring out as reproof when the need arises, which is fairly often. The only difference with The Snake Incident is that I have no idea what happened. Mother speaks of it as if the entire world knows. Yet any time I dare to broach the subject with her, instead of answers, all I have ever been given is a scathing look of reproach.
Father glares at me, typical displeasure radiating from his eyes. “The Hebrews are vermin,”[11] he says, picking up exactly where he left off. Unlike Mother, Father won’t even acknowledge The Snake Incident, even though I am certain he was there. “Do you hear me?” he says. “Vermin. They breed like rats. They are filthy, disgusting rodents that need to be stamped out.”
I nod my head. Heart still racing like a speeding chariot, tightly clasped hands quivering beneath the table.
“They invade our cities, infest our streets, bring chaos into our land. They are like weeds, spreading their poison, taking over our soil. They will plunge Egypt into destruction if we do not pull them out by the roots.” He points his finger at me. “They may look different, yet we all know they want to be like us. [12]But they will never be like us, do you hear me? Never. We will make sure of that.” He forcefully pushes his chair aside. It clatters to the floor, and he storms off.
Mother looks around at the disaster of the room with a horrified expression. Then she lets out a wail. “That was my favorite dish!” She scoops up a brightly painted piece of pottery and waves it at me, shrieking. “Why do you always have to be so disobedient? Why do you always have to upset your father? After all we’ve done for you. Is this how you repay us?” She hurls the shard to the floor and runs out, sobbing hysterically.
The servants quietly tidy up the chaos around me.
With trembling hands, I lift my protective amulet and press it close to my heart. Feel the comforting wings of the goddess beneath my fingers, knowing that she will always guard me. The only thing she cannot save me from is myself. I wish I could control myself. Rid myself from the humiliating clutches of some half-remembered memory. But it is useless. The little girl in my head is still crying. I want to comfort her, but I cannot reach her. She is already leaving. Burying herself in the darkest corners of my mind. Her cry is just a whimper now, melting away into the shadowy depths of a secret chamber. Folding into some hidden chest with a lid and a lock and layers of dust. The place where The Snake lives.
She is gone now. But if I close my eyes, I can see her. She is young, about four or five, with a sweet little face, two long, brown braids dangling over her narrow shoulders, and dressed in a long-sleeved tunic. And that is how I know how bad I really am. Because this little girl does not belong inside of me, no matter how well she hides. For Egyptian children wear the sidelock of youth on their shaven heads, and they run bare until they are six. I cannot understand it. Cannot explain it. But I know she is there. Somewhere deep inside my head lives a Hebrew child.
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Chapter Two
Today is the day I have been waiting for my whole life. My induction day has arrived at last. The honor is so great I can hardly contain myself. Every nerve in my body is tingling with excitement. Eirene, my nursemaid, has been admonishing me for my restlessness all morning. But if anything, her reprimands are only making me more fidgety. Telling me to be still is as good as telling the Nile not to flow.
“Keep still, Tia,” she says for the thousandth time, giving my side braid a firm tug.
“Ouch!”
“If you would only keep still, I wouldn’t have to be so firm with you.”
“You’re just jealous because I’m going to the palace and not you,” I say playfully.
Eirene looks like she has just swallowed a bowlful of curdled milk. “The princess is expecting a young lady to join her at court, not a child,” she says, swiftly snipping off my sidebraid and expertly running a copper razor over my now bare head.
“Have no worry, dear nurse,” I say. “I shall be on my very best behavior.” I give a dainty little curtsey and twirl, bald-headed, across the room.
Eirene seizes the scarab beetle amulet hanging from her neck and begs him to save us all. The beetle’s claim to glory is rolling dung balls, so I am not sure what kind of salvation she is anticipating, but I try to keep a straight face. I do not want to anger the gods.
She marches me back to my dresser and presses me into the chair to apply my makeup. The little jars of kohl remind me of Mother. I don’t think I have ever seen Mother without her wig and a full face of makeup. When she is finally done, Eirene places a heavy wig over my freshly shorn head. She stretches a thin gold band across the top, tying it in place with a tight knot at my neck. Then she steps back to admire her work and breaks out into a wide smile. She pulls me to my feet, smooths down the intricate pleats of my fine linen, white dress, and directs me toward the gilded mirror leaning against the wall.
A stranger stares back at me. My eyes are lined with thick, black kohl. My sidelock has beenreplaced by a striking, black, weaved wig. The ends of each braid are threaded with golden beads, which tinkle gently when I turn my head. My arms are adorned with thick gold bangles, and large gold spheres hang down from my ears. I am a child no more. The time has come for me to take my place in the palace as one of the princess’s maidens.
Eirene bustles me down the winding ramp and into the main room, where Mother and Father are anxiously waiting to receive me. Mother takes one look at me and lets out a cry of delight. Flinging her arms around me, she locks me in an embrace that is so tight I can almost hear my bones crack. She clings on, rocking me back and forth. “Oh, my baby! My baby!” she says over and over as if she will never see me again.
“She’s going to the palace, not the afterworld,” says Father, breaking us apart.
“But I shall miss her dreadfully,” she says, dabbing her eyes which are leaking scary black streaks down her face.
“I know, dear. But she’s headed for greatness,” he says in a firm voice. “If she knows what’s good for her, she will make the gods happy indeed.” He shoots me a hard look. “Won’t you, Tia?”
I nod fervently. “Positively jubilant!” I say, determined to make him proud of me at last. “You’ll see, Mother. The gods are going to love me.”
My parents share a withering glance. Father takes me by the shoulders and steers me out of the house, away from Mother, who is now weeping loudly.
Our servant boys run ahead to our bright blue barge at the Nile’s edge. They swiftly undock the boat and are already seated and holding the oars when we approach. We set off. The sun is not yet high, but it is already sweeping its glittering arms across the glorious Nile, making it shimmer as if it were made of molten gold. I trail my hand through the sparkling river, letting the cool waters slip through my fingers, and watch the silver fish swirl underneath.
“How many times must I tell you?” snaps Father. “Hands in the boat. Do you want to be some crocodile’s breakfast?”
I jerk my wet hand out. Thankfully, Father is too preoccupied with a stack of papyrus scrolls to say any more on the subject, and the boat glides on. Keeping my hands firmly planted on my lap, I look out, past the water lilies and tall papyrus reeds lining the Nile, to the bountiful green fields beyond. We glide past magnificent temples and palatial homes. Past lush groves of palm trees, farmers threshing sheaves of wheat and barley, oxen plowing, and donkeys bearing bundles of flax along the river bank. How I love Egypt, this beautiful land.[13]
Cruising along the Nile are sailboats and fishermen and a massive trade boat carrying heavy stones. Further on, I spot a long reed boat coming toward us. It is bustling with Hebrew merchants trading incense. I can smell the strong scents of cumin and coriander wafting on the breeze. Father spits over the edge. He proceeds to spend the remainder of the journey (when he is not spitting his revulsion into the river at the scores of Hebrews that pass) coaching me on everything I already know.
“Pharaoh is a god among mortals,”[14] he says at least three times. “His palace is sacred. His word is sacred. All the wealth of Egypt, in the whole world, belongs to Pharaoh. Every brick, every stone, every egg found along the Nile, everything belongs to him.”
I bob my head obediently, struggling to focus on my father’s well-worn words. Behind him, I see a family of Hebrews gathered on the bank. A mother and father, and what looks like twenty children, are smiling and laughing as they plunge their nets into the river to catch fish. The littlest of them splash about among the reeds while floating lotus blossoms. Father’s Hebrew-hungry eye notices them too. He hawks loudly and spits his offering into Mother Nile.
“The health and happiness of all of us rests in his hands,” he says, glaring at me for allowing my attention to wander. “If we did not obey Pharaoh, the Nile would not rise. The waters would not overflow their banks each year and flood our soil. We would all starve to death!”[15]
I arrange my face into one of great wonderment even though every child is taught all this before they can toddle. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a Hebrew woman, surrounded by a flock of youths, washing laundry by the edge of the river. I wonder how many children she has?
The closer we get to the palace, the more my belly churns with worry. Will the princess like me? Will the ladies like me? What if my tongue runs away with me? What if I’m lonely and I want to go home?I am so consumed with all these thoughts that I am startled when the servants steer the boat into the harbor. Father helps me out onto the wooden walkway, and I gape, awestruck.
The massive palace looms before me, sparkling white in the sunlight. It seems as if it is floating upon the Nile itself.[16] Every inch of the palace shines so brightly it looks like it has been dipped in moonlight. Huge white pillars shimmer to attention at the large entrance. There are throngs of people everywhere I turn. Foreigners dressed in unfamiliar garb. Great dignitaries bearing exotic gifts raised high in the air and transported by slaves on elegant couches. Men with skin in shades of colors I have only ever seen on murals. One yellow-skinned visitor in a trailing cloak trimmed with brown fur holds a gift of a fluted silver jug. Another large ebony-skinned man carries a golden vase with two handles and a long, twisted horn used for anointing. I stare in wide-eyed wonder at the streams of royal visitors, sorcerers, and foreign diplomats surging like waves through the great entrance.[17]
We walk up the grand entrance steps, and my breath catches in my throat. Sitting serenely at the feet of heavily armed guards are two enormous lions.[18] Instinctively, my fingers reach for the golden amulet around my neck. A flutter of butterflies erupt inside my stomach. They look tame now, but what if I make a mistake? Will they set the beasts on me if speak out of turn? The guards nod in recognition of my father and let us through.
“Remember what I said,” Father says in a low voice. He eyes me sternly and presses a finger to his lips. “Do not disappoint me . . .” The rest of the sentence hovers unspoken in the air between us—like usual.
Inside, myriads of passages and hallways lead off in every possible direction. Each one is patrolled by scores of guards holding great bronze-tipped spears.[19] Towering along every single hallway are huge golden statues of countless animal-headed gods. The walls are adorned with exquisite paintings of Pharaoh in vivid blues, bright yellows, deep reds, and luscious greens. Pharaoh sitting enthroned with his fan-bearer behind him while he receives tributes from foreign ambassadors. Pharaoh standing over the divine Nile, driving a spear into the eye of a large catfish.[20] Pharaoh being anointed by the gods, his immense figure looming large as the gods pour sacred oil over his head.
Vast stone columns soar up to the high ceiling. Each one is intricately carved and painted with hieroglyphs, banquet scenes, battlefields, beheadings. Sculpted into the heart of one pillar is an old priest in an ancient tomb binding the rags of a mummy. On the next, a lion hunt shows huntsmen bearing down on the beast with javelins and a large net. Further along, a trio of flute players sit on their knees with cones of perfume melting over their wigs. The skill and beauty of these masterful engravings takes my breath away, but the most striking of all are the images of the gods.
Chiseled into the massive pillars are image upon image of painted gods. The Soul-Eater sits beneath the scales of justice with her crocodile head, leopard torso, and hippo tail end, swallowing the hearts of those judged unworthy of entrance into the afterlife. The bow-legged, bearded dwarf god of childbirth watches over the women and children while shaking his rattle. The ram-headed Great Potter sits at his potter’s wheel forming humans with clay from the banks of the Nile. My eyes greedily drink everything in as we walk down the seemingly endless passageways, stomach churning with nervousness all the while. By the time we reach our destination, my insides are practically bursting with butterflies.
A plump woman wearing a short, chin-length black wig with golden tubes running the length of each braid stands outside an intricately carved wooden door flanked by two armed guards. Her eyes are kind and smiling. “You must be Tia,” she says as we approach. “I’m Lady Berenice.”
Father bows to her and swiftly takes his leave without a word of goodbye. With a stab of dejection, I watch him walk briskly away before I am guided through the door and across the threshold of my new life.
We enter a long, wide vestibule, brightly lit with flaming wall sconces. Along the length of the expansive hall are many doors on either side. “These are the women’s chambers,” Lady Berenice says. “The queen’s compartments are through there.” She gestures to a magnificent golden door fashioned into the shape of a vulture with outspread wings. Two enormous guards stand at the entrance with their spears crossed. They do not acknowledge us as we walk past them, only stare straight ahead, hands gripped on their spears. “Pharaoh’s other wives live across the courtyard,” she continues in a low voice before pointing to a gilded door bordered with a large, white marble arch. “The women’s harem is through the archway,” she says. “And here.” We come to a stop in front of a towering set of double doors framed by a colossal pair of cat-headed statues. Lady Berenice smiles at me and pushes one of the huge, wooden doors open. “The idol room,” she says, somewhat breathlessly. The overwhelming fragrance of myrrh incense wafts over me. I blink in amazement at the cavernous room swirling with the smoke of incense and filled with what looks like every god imaginable. “Naturally, Pharaoh’s idol room is much larger,” Lady Berenice says proudly. “But I am sure you will find this suitable enough.” She chuckles at the sight of my awestruck face. “You are welcome to offer sacrifices whenever you desire.”
I nod and try to work my lips into the semblance of a smile, but the butterflies seem to have invaded my mouth.
“The first day is always nerve-wracking,” says Lady Berenice. “Just take slow breaths. You’re going to do just fine. I remember when I walked my first steps in the palace. I was so nervous I was quaking in my sandals!” She pats my hand, and I feel myself relax a little. “You’ll catch on soon enough. Believe me, it is not hard to be a loyal companion to the princess. She is all goodness and then some. All you have to be is yourself.” She gives my arm a squeeze and leads me toward a polished wooden door flanked by tall, white lotus pillars. “Here we are,” she says, opening the door.
I am taken to what is to be my private bedchamber. It is a beautifully elegant room that reminds me of my mother’s chamber, only without the ever-present scent of jasmine oil. In the center is a sculpted wooden bed with legs carved in the shape of lions’ feet and a soft mattress of woven reeds. Above the headrest, an engraved idol of a large falcon observes my delighted discovery at the treasures draped over the bed. Three sets of bright white dresses that are so silky and luxurious, the cotton seems to slip right through my fingers, sparkling gold bangles, and huge, disk-shaped earrings inlaid with precious gemstones.
“Your welcoming gift,” says Lady Berenice. “Put them on. They’re yours.”
I try to insert my new earrings, but I am so nervous my fumbling fingers do not seem to know how.
“Here,” she says, slipping them in with ease. They are so heavy I can feel my earlobes being dragged down. Lady Berenice smiles at me, and her eyes catch sight of my necklace. “What a beautiful amulet,” she says, beholding the miniature golden goddess dangling from my neck. “I have never seen such an exquisite piece.”
“Thank you,” I say in a small voice. “My grandmother gave it to me,”
“It is a rarity, I am sure.”
I feel my cheeks warm up in embarrassed delight.
She moves closer, hesitantly, and gently raises the goddess, Iset, on the palm of her hand. She gazes at the intricately crafted pure gold statuette. The turquoise gemstones feathering Iset’s outspread wings sparkle in Berenice’s hand. “I can almost feel the magic emanating from her,” she says, her voice overflowing with admiration.
I cannot help but smile. My grandmother was a renowned witch. She sold amulets and was frequently absent from our home, journeying across Egypt in search of distinctive pieces to add to her considerable collection. People traveled far and wide to buy them. Grandmother did not mind if they were rich or poor. She catered to everyone. As far as she was concerned, money was money. Although, I think perhaps, it was power she craved more than gold. She grew up the youngest of eight children, and when she married, she became one of four wives. It was only when my grandfather died that she began to relentlessly sharpen her witchcraft skills. She was consumed with perfecting her powers. It was like an obsession. “When you learn to manipulate the forces of nature,” she told me one night, with a fiery gleam in her eye. “You become like a god.” At times, I was a little scared of my grandmother, especially when she practiced sorcery, and a black fire seemed to blaze in her eyes. But I loved her. I loved her because she loved me. It was as simple as that.
Grandmother reveled in the extraordinary reports she received from her ecstatic customers. The miraculous stories of salvation abounded. Some had been inexplicably saved from the forces of evil. Others had been blessed with miraculous fertility, while others had been endowed with an abundance of good fortune and wonderous healing. And it was all thanks to her.
Grandmother was an expert enchantress, and my amulet is indeed one of a kind, imbued with potent magic, but I do not say this to Lady Berenice. Mother has always made it perfectly clear that she was not a regular kind of grandmother. Mother thought she was unrefined and uncivilized, and said so whenever my grandmother was out of earshot. Most women decorated their wigs with golden tubes, colorful glass beads, and even flowers. My grandmother’s bulky braids were woven with bright red strips of linen. Grandmother said it made her more powerful. Mother said it made her more peculiar. Most grandmothers belonging to noble families stayed home weaving tapestries, relaxing in the shade of their favorite tree, and entertaining whatever friends had not yet passed over to the Field of Reeds. My grandmother sold amulets and practiced witchcraft. Mother hated commoners traipsing through her home at all hours of the day and night so that my grandmother could peddle “trinkets” from her chamber room. She would be mortified if I were to speak about my grandmother in the palace.
And so I remain silent. Lady Berenice tenderly releases my treasured necklace and goes to lay my new dresses in the large, wooden trunk at the foot of the bed before shepherding me out to meet the princess.
My heart is racing like a runaway goose. We enter a vast room with high windows awned by sheer, white drapes. Women lounge on silk floor cushions and colorful couches, chattering and laughing while sipping from golden goblets. The soaring ceiling is held up by slender lotus pillars. The sweet odor of orange blossoms perfumes the air. Servant girls bearing trays of small cakes and jars of spiced wine weave through the room. And there, at the far end of the room, on an exquisitely decorated chair of gold, sits Princess Basya.[21]
I am stunned by her elegance, her unassuming grace, and the majestic dignity that sheathes her. The breathtaking glow that emanates from her sucks the air out of my lungs. Breathless, I soak in her magnificent golden headdress, the rare, glittering jewels winking out at me, completely spellbound by the aura that surrounds her. Berenice nudges me. I lower my eyes and drop to my knees.
“Welcome,” says the princess in a voice that flows like honey. She rises from her chair and glides toward me. Reaching out her hand, she gestures for me to rise. Then, laying her hands on my shoulders, she kisses me affectionately on both cheeks. “We have been awaiting your arrival with much anticipation,” she says, breaking out in a dazzling smile. “Are you hungry?”
I stare dumbstruck as if the wind god has blown all the words right out of me.
“Does the girl have a tongue?” calls one of the ladies.
“My father has commanded me to hold it,” I blurt out. Heat rushes to my face.
“Pay no heed to Zahra,” says Berenice. “There’s no need to hold it here.”
“That’s right,” says Zahra, grinning at me. “The princess has a heart of gold. She almost never beats us.”
There is a tinkle of laughter. The princess smiles and leads me to the empty chair beside hers. “Indeed, you are among friends,” she says. Then she leans in and adds in a soft voice. “Though it is prudent to act with caution. The palace walls have many ears.”
Chapter Three
Hate howls through the palace, weaseling its way under my skin, chiseling away at my heart. I swallow my words, bite down on my tongue, but the niggling questions that peck at my mind grow like the Hebrews.
Not a day goes by that we do not talk about them. Slander them. Curse them. Though the princess herself says very little on the subject, I feel compelled to talk for fear of ostracizing myself from the others. I try to fuel my words with the fiery hatred that all the other ladies seem to possess, but it is embarrassingly forced. Why does their hate come so effortlessly while mine always feels like I am pushing a camel through my throat?
The princess has thirty ladies-in-waiting.[22] I am the youngest by six months, followed by Zahra and Ebony, though you would not know it with Zahra because she talks as if she is older and wiser than any of us. Ebony, on the other hand, trails her like a shadow and zealously echoes every word she spouts.
Princess Basya has taken a great liking to me. She calls me her little lotus. I am often chosen to sit by her side and read poetry or sing for her while playing the harp. When I play for her, she closes her eyes, swaying her body slightly as if she is being transported into another world entirely.
Many of the ladies are married and live on the palace grounds with their husbands, who also serve Pharaoh. All of us are of noble birth, trained in the etiquette, languages, and dances of the court. Berenice is generally chosen to read the princess’s correspondences and write on her behalf. She writes a fine script. The days are filled with music, dining, sailing, attending rowing and archery tournaments, and other such things.
After a lively breakfast over sweet bread and fruit, the princess announces that we are going to the throne room. I nearly choke on my fig. I have not yet seen the great Pharaoh. Once, when I was eight years old, I saw him riding through the streets on his chariot, followed by a legion of soldiers. He whizzed by like a flash of gold, and I waved and cheered along with the manic crowd. Everyone was screaming and clapping, half-mad with excitement. Many women fainted. But to be in the same room as him? To breathe the same air that he breathes? To see his face?
Heart thudding frantically against my ribs, I am swept along with the throng of ladies through the endlessly winding hallways. My feet move in rhythm with the others. The brightly painted walls, blazing lanterns, and spear-wielding guards pass me in a blur. All I see is the princess gliding through the haze of color like she is floating.
We enter the audience chamber through a side door exclusive to the princess and her maidens and take our seats near the front of the chamber, which is set further back along the periphery. I am instantly hit by a fog of frankincense which infuses the air. The throne room jostles with loud talking ministers and government officials. Each one draped in bright white linens, their finest wigs, and their arms and necks glinting with gold. I scan the crowds searching for Father, but there are so many men it is impossible to see. Before me stands a large group of bald-headed priests and sorcerers gesticulating wildly, nearly trampling the royal scribe sitting cross-legged on the floor and clutching onto the wooden board on his lap.
The princess sits beside me in regal silence. The other ladies talk quietly among themselves, making observations on the heat of the day, the length of the wait, the Chief Vizier’s new wig, while I behold the splendor surrounding me. Massive gold statues of the gods line the path to the throne. Huge stone columns stretch up to the high ceiling which is gleaming in a mosaic of breathtaking color. The columns are engraved with flowers and intricate patterns, all painted in brilliant blues, greens, and gold, and illuminated by stands of flaming torches. Flanking the walkway to the throne stand stone-faced guards with huge spiked spears, and fastened with iron chains to the entryway gates are two terrifying lions. My heart shudders at the sight of them lazily flapping their tails, just waiting to rip someone’s treacherous head off.
Zahra leans over my shoulder. “My father is looking for a husband for me,” she says. “I rather like the look of that man over there.” She points somewhere to my left. “Such a fashionable wig,” she says. “I wonder why all the men do not wear it longer like that.”
“He’s dreamy,” says Ebony. “Is he not dreamy, Tia?”
“Positively,” I say, without the foggiest idea of who we are talking about.
“I’m sure I could persuade Father to take him into consideration,” says Zahra. “He must be some kind of minister, after all. Hardly something to turn up one’s nose at. I wonder what they call him?”
“I bet it’s Ramses,” says Ebony. “He definitely looks like a Ramses.”
“How right you are! With that strong jaw, it cannot be anything else. Except maybe Wajmose. He could be a Wajmose. Though a well-cut wig would be quite pointless if he’s not exceptionally wealthy.”
“Oh, indeed!” says Ebony. “Positively pointless.”
By now, I admit, I am rather curious to see this perfectly jawed man of fashion, who may or may not be rich enough to tempt Zahra’s father, but before I can attempt to locate him, a hush descends upon the room.
All who are sitting rise to their feet, and Pharaoh enters. My heart is in my mouth. He looks like a golden god. I have never seen anything so awesome in my life. Pharaoh takes a seat on his solid gold throne, and everybody sits. I sort of crumple into my chair. My knees are like water. Head spinning with dizziness. I think I might faint. But then a warm hand rests on my shoulder, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Berenice place a goblet of warm wine in my hand before heading back to her seat.
“Drink,” says the princess in my ear. “You will feel better after you take a sip.”
Staring awestruck at the mighty Pharaoh, I force the goblet to my lips and try not to hyperventilate. Spellbound, I ogle the broad gold breastplate encrusted with rows of deep blue lapis lazuli gemstones draped across his shoulders. The long golden beard jutting from his chin. The majestic blue and gold striped headdress with the sacred vulture and hooded cobra emblazed at its center. And behind him, in all its terrifying glory, is a colossal stone statue of Pharaoh himself. His stone head nearly scrapes the ceiling, huge, lion-shaped legs extend from the sides of his throne, and gigantic, stone wings are spread in formidable flight. After a few more moments of drawn-out silence, Pharaoh speaks.
“Things cannot go on,” he calls out in a loud, harsh voice. Terrified, I grip the goblet in my hands with trembling fingers. I know at once what things he speaks of. “We, in our abundant kindness, invited the Hebrews to live in Goshen.[23] Goshen. Not Tzoan.[24] Not Nubia. Not Sais. Goshen. We permitted them to be shepherds. Not merchants or traders or practitioners of medicine. Shepherds!Out of the goodness of our hearts, we gave them the finest land, ideal for raising livestock. An abomination to us but most suited to them.[25]
“When a man invites a guest into his home, does he expect to find him wandering through his private chambers, helping himself to bread from his kitchen, wine from his cellar, making himself comfortable in his own chair? Of course not! Such a guest is a depraved ingrate! Such a guest will uproot his master.
“These guests,” he says, in a tone dripping with revulsion, “have violated our kindness. They have breached our trust. Overstepped their borders. Encroached on a land that was never meant to be theirs.[26] They have infiltrated our home. And my godly spirit stirs within me, guiding me on the divine path. We must stop them now before it is too late.”
The royal scribe scribbles frantically onto his papyrus scroll as Pharaoh turns to the Chief Vizier and says, “Have you found a rat yet?”
His second in command, a little reed-like man, steps forward, shaking his head solemnly, “Unfortunately not, Your Majesty.”
Pharaoh glares at the vizier. “When I make a request, Vizier Sneferu, I expect it to be executed. How hard can it be to find an informer in all their millions? There must be hundreds of squealers creeping in their midst, and you, incompetent fool, cannot find one scrawny weasel?”[27]
My heart hammers uncontrollably inside me as if it is me that Pharaoh is castigating. Vizier Sneferu flushes. “It is unheard of, I know. . .” He shifts uncomfortably. “My men have been excessively thorough, I assure you, Your Majesty. However, it appears that there is not one informer among them.”[28]
Pharaoh spears the vizier with a look that would make the mummies shudder in their tombs. “I am afraid,” he says in a cold, low voice, “that is not good enough.”
Vizier Sneferu visibly shrivels. “We will continue our search,” he says, and I can hear the tremor in his voice. “We will sniff out the rat. We will—”
“And until then?” snaps Pharaoh. The vizier falls silent, as though Pharaoh’s fury has scalded his tongue. “They are cunning, those rats,” Pharaoh says, turning his attention to the audience. “Dangerously cunning. But mark my word, they are plotting against us. They are sneaking through our streets, our cities, our Nile. Stuffing their purses with Egypt’s wealth, swarming into places they do not belong, spreading their venom throughout our land. For the sake of the gods. For the sake of all that is just. We must protect ourselves against them and their evil influences.
“They are the not the same Hebrews who first settled in our land. Oh no. They were simple Hebrews. They were satisfied with their cattle and their sacred scrolls. They had no desire for anything outside of their secluded existence. But now they are spreading out. Settling in our towns. Flooding our entertainment centers. They are no longer satisfied with their God, so they worship ours.[29] But what business have they with our gods? What right have they to meddle with our idols? Is it not enough that they take our grain, our fish, our spices; they must take our gods too? They are trying to turn our own gods against us.
“They may not look like us now. They may wear the garments of their ancestors, but for how long? Soon their beards will be shorn, and their heads will be bare. They will dress like us, eat like us, speak like us, and we will not be able to tell the difference! Then the threat will be tenfold, for no matter how they appear, inside, they will always be rotten, poisonous Hebrews.
“Look how much wealth they have already pilfered. Look how shamelessly they parade their prosperity in our faces. Look how they prance through our theaters and temples as if they belong to them. They are arrogant thieves. Their cattle have grown plump off our land. Their purses are heavy with our gold. Their fields are bursting with our grain. They are growing by the day in multitudes. And they will not stop until they have stripped us, swindled us, out of our abundance.”[30] Furiously, Pharaoh turns back to the Chief Vizier. “Well. What are your thoughts?”
Vizier Sneferu blinks rapidly. “Thoughts, Your Majesty?”
“Yes. Thoughts. Ideas. Solutions. You must have some knocking about in that skull of yours. I do not pay you for nothing.”
“Yes, of course,” sputters the vizier, evidently trying to conceal his abject terror. He takes a step forward, puffs out his spindly chest, and says in a loud voice, “Let us expel them instantly!”
Pharaoh lunges forward and seizes the vizier by the throat. “So they can seek shelter in the lands of our enemies and turn them against us? So they can wage war on us? Drive us out of our land and destroy us?[31] Imbecile!” he roars, flinging the vizier to the ground with brute force. “They are far too dangerous to expel. We must find a way to destroy them because I tell you now, I will never let them go.”
A cold shiver steals through my veins. I grip onto my goblet so tightly I fear it will smash in my hands. How can we destroy a nation of millions?
Pharaoh glares down at the vizier, who is clutching onto his neck, eyes round with fear, silently demanding an answer.
Vizier Sneferu staggers to his feet. “Then let us not waste a moment,” he croaks. “We must kill them all at once.”
There is a sharp gasp to my right, muffled by the outbreak of voices among the ministers. It was the princess—gasping with excitement, no doubt. I glance to my right. Princess Basya stares straight ahead, as regal as ever. My stomach roils with sickly bubbles. I turn away from her, ashamed of the fact that I want to shake the vizier by his golden breastplate and scream that you cannot just kill people you do not like. What is their crime? What did they do wrong? I know what Father would say—they are guilty just because they exist, or something like that. How I wish I could hate like Father.
I scan my eyes through the delegates until, at last, I spot Father conversing with some minister, looking more than a little pleased. I discreetly flick my eyes back to the princess. Princess Basya stares ahead, not with the face of delight but rather that of perfect indifference. Whoever heard of someone gasping from indifference? I tap my sandals on the polished tiles, confused. I wish I knew what she was thinking.
She senses me looking at her and turns her head toward me. “I suppose it had to come to this.”
“Did it?” I bite down on my lip, eyes bulging in fright. Was that heresy? Oh, dear gods, why did I speak?
She looks at me thoughtfully for a moment, inclining her head, and all I see is her large, dark eyes, like deep wells of sadness. But of course, it cannot be actual sadness because that makes even less sense than the gasp of indifference. Unless it is sadness with me. Does she know that I am one traitorous word away from decapitation? She must. She sees it in my eyes. She hears it in my thoughts. Maybe she will order my beheading as soon as we return to our chambers.
But she does not look angry, only sad.
Princess Basya takes my hand in her own and holds it on her lap, turning her head back to Pharaoh, whose arm is raised for silence. And now I am even more confused because her soft, warm hands do not make me feel so very traitorous. They make me feel loved.
Pharaoh glares at Vizier Sneferu. “And how do you suggest we accomplish that?” he says, staring at him so fearsomely it looks like he is mummifying the vizier with his eyes. Without waiting for a response, Pharaoh calls out to the audience, “Egypt is the most esteemed nation in the world.[32] All other nations stand in awe of our greatness. In droves, they flock to see the wonders of our land? We cannot openly obliterate an entire population. We will bury ourselves for such reckless haste. The nations will turn on us. They will condemn us as murderers.[33] As it stands, there are already far too many influential Hebrews infesting Egypt. They will prevail upon our enemies, incite uproar from the surrounding nations and even among our own people. Then we will have a civil war on our hands.”
The ministers nod to one another, accepting the wisdom of our divine ruler, and the Chief Vizier gives a deep bow and discreetly takes several steps backward, still clutching onto his neck.
“The Israelites must be annihilated,” says Pharaoh vehemently. “There is no question of that. But we need a plan. A cunning plan that will outsmart them all.”[34]
There are several moments of silence. You can practically hear the desperation inside every minister’s head scrabbling for The Plan that will please Pharaoh.
A distinguished-looking man steps forward. “Your Majesty,” he says, bowing gracefully to the ground.
“Iyov,” says Pharaoh, nodding for him to stand.
Iyov rises elegantly to his feet. “Let us not act in haste,” he says. “What do we gain by killing them? We can destroy their spirits without laying a hand on their bodies.” Iyov speaks in a dignified manner that seems to set him apart from the other men. “Why shed blood,” he says, “when it would be sufficient to make them destitute through taxes?”[35]
Pharaoh taps his bejeweled fingers on his golden armrest. “Very well, Iyov,” says Pharaoh. “We shall start with taxes, but it will not end there.”
Iyov remains silent.[36]
“Let us burden them with heavy tolls,” Pharaoh calls out. They will not have the means to visit our theaters and revel in our entertainment. They will not be able to put our bread into their children’s mouths! We will tax every last drop out of them.[37] Then we shall see how well they procreate.”
An excited buzz ripples through the room while the royal scribe scribbles madly away.
“But it is not enough!” says Pharaoh fiercely. “How can we oppress them more?”
The room falls instantly quiet.
Pharaoh rubs his golden chin beard thoughtfully, and after several moments, his face breaks out into a menacing smile. “I know,” he says. “I know just where it will hurt. We shall outlaw circumcision.” [38] His formidable gaze sweeps the throne room. “Bilam!” [39] he calls out.
A man draped in a leopard skin robe glides forward and bows so low that his nose practically kisses the floor. “Your Majesty,” he says.
“Does the plan meet your approval?” asks Pharaoh.
“It does,” says Bilam, and his cold, merciless voice sends shivers up my spine. “We have been far too good to those Hebrews for far too long. It is time they realized that Egypt is not their home. How can we stand by while they mutilate their children in the name of their faith? It is inhumane!” he says savagely. “It is monstrous!”
The men murmur in agreement.
“I have always thought it to be a vile practice,” says Zahra behind me.
“As have I!” chimes Ebony.
It does seem to be a bizarre custom. Father always says so. “Why can’t they sacrifice their children to the gods like normal people,” he says. “They have plenty to spare.”
Zahra clucks her tongue. “Savage. That’s what it is.”
“Beastly,” says Ebony.
Pharaoh’s eyes gleam with righteous fervor. “We shall stamp out this barbaric ritual,” he declares. “And any Hebrew who dares defy me will see how it feels to have his own limbs severed.”
***
The hateful months pass. But Pharaoh’s decrees have apparently done nothing to curb their explosive growth. They are completely and utterly destitute.[40] The ministers have declared there is nothing left to tax. Yet somehow, they are multiplying more than ever before.
It is as if our hate is the very fodder for their growth. But how can that be? Destitution leads to death. Disease. Not astronomic fertility![41] But they are not like us. Have never been like us, no matter how hard they try. It is like they are made from a different mold.
We have been spending more and more time in the throne room. The princess does not offer explanations, but I think she does not trust the palace ears and likes to hear the new decrees (of which there are many) from her father’s own mouth. It is maddeningly frustrating, though, because she never says anything. She never joins in our heated discussions. Never shows the slightest glimmer of emotion one way or the other. Not once has she made a disparaging comment about the Hebrews, though the opportunities abound. Why is she silent? Father says it is our duty to speak out against them. “Hate them loud, Tia,” he would reprimand whenever he noticed my watery venom. “Let the gods hear your animosity.”
Though perhaps quiet rage is also powerful. I suppose when you are the princess of Egypt, you do not have to shout so loud for the gods to hear you. Though sometimes I wonder if Princess Basya hates them at all. But that is absurd, I know. Just because I have improper thoughts does not mean that she has. There is no question she hates the Hebrews with the fire of a thousand gods. And probably much more. She’s so good at everything she does. She’s probably the most expert hater in all of Egypt. Even more than Father.
I wish I could hate like her.
But why does she not show it? Why does she sit there, stone-faced, while her own father announces the next stage in their destruction? Why does she stare blankly when the ladies talk about their wretchedness? It cannot be that she does not hate. So what is it?
It has to be that she is too regal to express such base emotions, especially ugly ones like hate. That would definitely mar her beauty. She is simply too refined to engage in such talk. That’s it.
I wish that was it for me.
The princess has just announced another morning in the throne room.
“Why must we always sit in on the delegation meetings?” whines Zahra, plucking a purple grape from a large bunch and popping it into her mouth. “None of Pharaoh’s wives care to come. Not even the queen. It is so tiresome. Why can’t we leave the politics to the men?”
The ladies bob their heads eagerly.
“Because,” says the princess, “history is in the making, and I do not want to miss it.”
“I’d much rather go sailing,” Zahra says, wholly oblivious to the princess’s displeasure. “It is far more pleasurable than listening to them rant on about those rotten Hebrews. Just kill them already and be done with it.”
“You are perfectly welcome to go sailing by yourself,” says Princess Basya with perfect civility, but you’d have to be a fool not to hear the glint of metal behind her words.
Zahra looks as if she has just been slapped across the face.
“Tia?”
My heart skitters up my throat. “Yes, Princess?”
“Please escort me to the throne room. Whoever wishes to join me is more than welcome. Those who prefer to go sailing have my consent.”
I swiftly slip my arm through hers, though truth be told, I would much rather go sailing. How many times must we listen to the men argue back and forth about the most diplomatic way to crush a nation? A peaceful nation whose only crime appears to be supernatural reproduction? But of course, I do not say that. And of course, nobody goes sailing. To be a lady-in-waiting is to be one with the princess. Where she goes, we go. To do otherwise would be unthinkable.
Pharaoh storms into the audience chamber like a raging flash of fire and a flurry of men at his heels. He flings himself into the throne and roars, “How is it possible that their numbers are soaring?” My breakfast flips. And from the terrified looks of his ministers, I am not alone. “They are like thorns in my eyes.[42] They breed like dogs in the gutter. What are they feeding their litter? Sewage! Why are they still here? Why are they not dying? Why do they refuse to diminish?” He stares hard at the Chief Vizier. “Well? ANSWER ME!”
The vizier blanches. “Um, ah, you see,” he says, fumbling for something to say. “It is rather unclear.” He looks wildly about him. “It appears that they are, well, what I mean to say is, they are not like other nations.”
“Not like other nations?” snaps Pharaoh, piercing him with the look of death. “Indeed. I believe we have sufficiently established that fact already.”
“Ah, yes, yes, undeniably. Thoroughly so, Your Majesty. Exceedingly so—”
“Unless you have anything useful to say, I suggest you remain silent. I am in no humor to listen to regurgitated news.”
“Yes, of course. Understandably so,” says the vizier, flushing a deep crimson. “ I have an excessively useful proposition that is sure to relieve us from our present predicament.” The vizier lifts his narrow chin. “Let us enslave them.”
Murmurs of approval spread through the room. The vizier looks inordinately pleased with his idea, and I detest him for it. Why can’t we just leave them? Or better yet, let them leave? Do they not want to leave? Have they tried? They know how much we despise them. Can’t they see the writing on the wall? But where would they go? What other nation would allow this poverty-stricken, mass-multiplying nation to cross its borders?
“An excellent proposal, indeed, Vizier Sneferu,” says Pharaoh. The Chief Vizier looks like he might explode with happiness. “And how do you suggest we achieve this?”
“By the sword, Your Majesty.”
“So quick with the sword, aren’t you?” says Pharaoh scathingly. The vizier’s smug smile slips from his face. “But history speaks for itself. Did their forefather Avraham not defeat four kings where five could not?[43] Did Shimon and Levi not singlehandedly strike down every male in the city of Shechem?[44] If you strike with the sword, I assure you, the gods will not be on your side.” The vizier blanches and visibly gulps.
Pharaoh turns to the audience and cries out, “We are not talking about a regular people! A regular people may easily be enslaved by the sword or by debt, but the Children of Israel are an abnormality. They will not succumb to the blade nor to the shackles of bondage, no matter how destitute they may be. Like I have said a thousand times before, they must be dealt with cunningly! We must—”
Pharaoh pauses abruptly. A large smile spreads across his painted face. “Yes,” he says to himself. “I have it.” He leans forward, his eyes burning with victory, and says to the crowd of ministers before him. “We must take advantage of their sickening desire to integrate among us. We must use it against them.” He nods his head as the cunning scheme seemingly unfolds before his eyes. “We shall trick them into slavery. Recruit the Hebrews into our royal labor battalions. Welcome them with open arms and gritted teeth. Lead them to believe they are working for the palace. Lead them to believe they will be paid for their labor. Lead them straight into our open arms until they are thoroughly ensnared.”[45]
The verse relates that “The Children of Israel were fruitful and swarmed and increased, and grew very, very strong; and the land became filled with them” (Shemos 1:7). The Medrash highlights the astronomical birthrate of the Jewish Nation by telling us that Yaakov came to Egypt with a family of only seventy, yet, by the time he left the world, he had 60,000 descendants (Bereishis Rabbah 79:1).
Quoting the Ibn Ezra, the Netziv explains that despite six babies being born from a single womb, which usually leads to weakness or illness in such children growing up, the Jewish Nation were all healthy and robust. Rabbeinu Bachaya notes that despite so many babies being cramped inside their mother’s stomach, each one came out strong and especially tall (Shemos 1:6). In addition, the Rashbam notes that not only did the babies live to old age, but the Jewish People as a whole lived long and healthy lives causing the Nation to be exponentially large (Shemos 1:7).
[3] The Jewish People Stand Out
The Medrash relates that the Jewish People were distinct from the Egyptians. Specifically, their unique Hebrew names and language set them apart from their host country together with the fact that they never spoke lashon hara, and that not a single person was ever promiscuous (Shir HaShirim Rabbah 4:25). For many years, explains a different Medrash, the Jewish Nation was an insular and independent entity in Egypt where even their food was noticeably different (Medrash Lekach Tov, Devarim 26:5).
[4] How Many Babies?
The Medrash (Shemos Rabbah 1:8) cites three opinions regarding how many babies were born at each birth. They base their understandings on the number of words describing their growth in the verse: “The Children of Israel were fruitful (1) and swarmed (2) and increased (3) and grew very, very (4) strong (5); and the land became filled with them” (6) (Shemos 1:7). Thus, by using six descriptive words to describe the incredible birthrate of the Jewish Nation, the Torah is hinting that each birth consisted of six babies. The second opinion notes that, in fact, each of these words are written in the plural — representing two (see Succah 5b with Rashi “tofasta merubah”) — and therefore, the number is doubled; thus, each woman gave birth to twelve babies at a time. The final opinion is that each woman gave birth to sixty babies at a time! Although the Medrash does not explain a reason for this number, it writes that that one should not consider these claims exaggerated because we already see in nature that a scorpion gives birth to sixty offspring at one time (Eitz Yosef).
The Maharal, however, does provide an understanding for this number, as well as a reason why the nation would be blessed specifically with six children. The Maharal explains that God’s blessing of fruitfulness was commensurate to the oppression that the Nation suffered due to the Egyptians’’ desire to stop their growth (see Shemos 1:12). Therefore, because the Jewish People were forced to work six days a week, they were blessed with six children — one for every day they were forced to work. The second opinion splits the days into day and night, therefore, because the Nation were forced to work day and night for six days a week, they were blessed with twelve children. Interestingly, the Maharal adds that kabbalistically, the night represents the female and the day represents the male, therefore, according to this second opinion, the women gave birth to six boys corresponding to the suffering they faced during the day and six girls corresponding to the six nights a week that they were forced to work. Finally, the opinion that holds that sixty babies were born at one time is because the Egyptians caused the Nation to suffer exponentially — on a whole new numeric level — which is representing the next numerical set of digits: plural digits. Accordingly, each day of suffering was worth ten days, and therefore, ten babies were born for each day of the six days week that the Nation was forced to work, thus sixty babies were born (Gevuros Hashem, 12). It should be noted, however, that Rav Aharon Leib Shteinman explained that it was possible that not every woman always gave birth to so many children, rather, it was a common enough occurrence for it to be considered normal among the Jewish women (B’tzilo chimadti, Haggadah, pg. 143).
[5] Pharoah’s Unreasonable Fear
The verse states that Pharaoh was fearful of the Jewish Nation, saying to his people: “Behold! The people, the Children of Israel, are more numerous and stronger than us” (Shemos 1:9). However, the Zohar relates that far from being a threat to Egypt’s power, the Jewish People were the very source of their power. For, it was only once the Jewish People arrived in Egypt that their influence spread throughout the world. Similarly, the Zohar relates that this was true with other nations too, like Bavel and Edom, whose global eminence only came once the Jewish People moved within their borders (Zohar 2:6a).
The Sifsei Chachamim explains that the mere mention of the Jewish People was detestable to the Egyptians (Shemos 1:12). Even in Yosef’s time, the verse states that “the Egyptians could not bear to eat food with the Hebrews, it being loathsome to Egyptians” (Bereishis 43:32). Far from being a terrible thing, the natural disdain that the nations of the world have for the Jewish People serves as a safety barrier protecting us from becoming lost. For, the Medrash explains that if the Jewish People were to become entirely comfortable among the nations, they would eventually assimilate, thus becoming lost forever (Eichah Rabbah 1:29). Another Medrash notes that the entire time that the Jewish People remained distant from the practices of the Egyptians, they remained in very good favor with them. However, once they started to want to be like the Egyptians, for instance, by refusing to circumcise their baby boys, the Egyptian’s favor turned to hatred (Shemos Rabbah 1:8). As difficult as it may be to appreciate, in Hashem’s kindness, and as a last resort to save His Nation; when He sees that His People are becoming lost among the nations, He causes the nations to become antagonized by the Jewish People. This is best demonstrated by Rav Chaim Volozhin’s famous play-on-words, “If a Jew does not make kiddush (sanctify himself), then the nations will make havdallah (a separation between them).”
[7] Crippling Taxes
The Kli Yakar explains that a significant cause of the Egyptians’ resentment was because the Jewish Nation became exceptionally wealthy. For, not only was their physical growth exponential, so too their financial growth. In fact, as a result of the Jewish People’s extravagant wealth, Pharaoh decreed harsh taxes specifically in order to impoverish them (Shemos 1:7). Although the Kli Yakar does not explicitly mention that the Jewish People flaunted their wealth or misused it in some other way, it stands to reason that this would have been the case. For, although Pharaoh physically enacted the decrees against the Jewish People, ultimately, Hashem is in complete control of everything that happens to us (Sefer HaChinuch, Mitzvah 241). As such, everything that befell the Nation was Divinely orchestrated using Hashem’s principle of “measure-for-measure” — acting commensurately according to their actions (Sanhedrin 90a). Since there is certainly nothing wrong with being wealthy, it must therefore be that they misused their wealth and were therefore punished accordingly.
[8] Yosef Brings Wealth to Egypt
After interpreting Pharaoh’s dream that there would be seven years of plenty followed by seven years of famine, Yosef saved up all the surplus grain over the first seven-year period. Once the famine began, the Egyptian people bought the grain Yosef had stored, giving Pharaoh all the proceeds. Once the Egyptians’ had no more money, they traded grain for their cattle, all of which went to Pharaoh. When they had no more cattle to trade, they then gave up their land for grain. When they had no more land to trade and the Egyptians had nothing left to offer, they begged Yosef to feed them in return for becoming slaves to Pharaoh. In addition, adds the Netziv, the people of Canaan also significantly contributed to Egypt’s wealth by purchasing grain from Yosef (Ha’Emek Davar, Bereishis 47:15). Thus, Yosef single-handedly brought wealth to Egypt, and specifically to Pharaoh, who attained legal ownership over the entire land as well as everyone’s personal wealth (Bereishis 47:13-26).
[9] Yosef’s Name and Reign
After successfully interpreting Pharaoh’s dream, Yosef was immediately placed in command over Egypt and given a new name — Tzaphnas-Pane’ach (Bereishis 41:39-45). The Rashbam explains that bestowing a new name was customary for anyone when their status became elevated in society to a position of power. Thus, Yosef’s name was changed to befit his new title (ibid.). An additional reason for his name change, explains the Sifsei Chachamim, was in order for his previous slave status to be quickly forgotten (Bereishis 41:45).
Yosef’s reign over Egypt began the “sweet” years of the Jewish People’s history in Egypt. Those years of tranquility came to an end, however, with the death of Levi — the longest surviving son of Yaakov (Rashi, Shemos 6:16) — at which point the “bitter” years began and grew increasingly worse. In deference to this, the Yerushalmi states that the marror, the “bitter herbs,” eaten on Seder Night may be lettuce even though it does not actually taste bitter; since, if left for some time, it will eventually become bitter. This, explains the Yerushalmi, is therefore sufficient to commemorate the Jewish Nation’s exile to Egypt, which began sweet but became bitter (Pesachim 2:5).
[10] Egypt is Filled with Black Magic
The Gemara explains that Egypt was filled with magicians and witchcraft (Menachos 85a with Rashi). In fact, the Gemara relates that out of the ten measures of magic that descended to the world, nine of them were given to Egypt (Kiddushin 49b).
[11] Breeding like Vermin — Missing the Miracle
The Egyptians were used to seeing such a degree of multiple births only among creatures like spiders or scorpions (Yalkut Shimoni, Shemos 1:162). Objectively, to witness so many healthy births consistently among the entire Jewish Nation should have caused the Egyptians to realize that this Nation was blessed. However, hate does not utilize objectivity, and the Egyptians only looked disparagingly at the Jewish People.
[12] Bris Milah Stopped
The Medrash tells us that after Yosef died, the Jewish People stopped giving their sons bris milah so that they would be more like the Egyptians (Medrash Tanchumah, Shemos 5). The Panim Yafos explains that since the Tribe of Levi withstood this test and instead “subjugated” their bodies for the mitzvah of bris milah, Hashem rewarded them measure-for-measure by ensuring that Pharaoh would not be able to subjugate their bodies with slavery. As such, the Tribe of Levi was never enslaved (Shemos 1:14).
For its ability to grow seeds, the Torah refers to Egypt as “like the garden of Hashem” (Bereishis 13:10, with Rashi), such was its land’s astonishing richness. Despite this ardent praise for Egypt, the Gemara reveals that even the rockiest place in Eretz Yisrael, is seven times more fertile than the most fertile place in Egypt (Sotah 34b).
As a self-declared god living among mortals, Pharaoh claimed that he created himself as well as the River Nile (Yechezkal 29.3). As such, declared Pharaoh, water — Egypt’s primary resource —came to the Egyptians directly through his “kindness,” endearing him to the Egyptian people, who loved him and worshipped him (Medrash Tanchumah, Vaeira 14).
[15] No Rain in Egypt
Egypt was a unique, self-sufficient country in that it did not rely on rain to water its crops. In fact, it never rained in Egypt. Instead, the Nile overflowed and irrigated adjoining fields which would supply Egypt with its crops (Rashi, Yeshaya 19:5(. The Ibn Ezra writes that it was still true in his lifetime that rain never fell on Egypt (Shemos 9:18), and today, the reality appears to be that certainly around the Nile, rain is a rarity. In addition to irrigation, the overflowing water brought an immense number of fish to the shores. As such, Egypt contained a wealth of natural resources. (Rashi, Yeshaya 19:8).
Although a seeming blessing, the lack of rain meant that the Egyptians never had a need to turn to Hashem for their sustenance. They were, as the Medrash puts it, provided with the King’s servant who would supply their needs instead of living from the King’s hand (Sifri, Parashas Eikev, 2). In a striking resemblance, one of Hashem’s punishments for the snake (to which Egypt is compared (Yirmiyahu 46:22)) after it caused the first sin, was that its food would be the dust of the earth (Bereishis 3:14) — something which would seemingly ensure that his sustenance was always available everywhere he turned. If so, how was providing the snake with unlimited nourishment be considered a punishment? The answer is that when one cannot connect to Hashem, and when one cannot evaluate his behavior based on the rain he receives or lack thereof, then he is essentially left to fend for himself, away from the watchful and caring eye of Hashem, as it were. Thus, although Egypt was able to boast about its ability to flourish without Hashem’s direct intervention, without any relationship with Him, they were unable to clearly see His signs until it was too late.
It should be noted that in every aspect that we have mentioned above, Eretz Yisrael is the exact opposite: The land’s sustenance relies solely on its rain (Devarim 11:10-11) which, in turn, comes exclusively according to our actions and behavior (as we declare daily in krias Shema, “If you will surely listen to My commands…I will give you rain in your land at its correct time” (Devarim 11:13-14)). As such, those in Eretz Yisrael were blessed with the ability to determine if they were acting in a pleasing way to Hashem or not. In every way, therefore, unlike His relationship with other countries — especially Egypt where no relationship existed — Hashem is keeping a constant watchful and loving eye on His Holy Land (Devarim 11:12) which is primarily reflected in the time, place, and amount of rainfall that Eretz Yisrael receives.
[16] Palace on the Nile
In a magnificent display of wealth, creativity, and self-glorification, Pharaoh made his palace on the Nile so that the rising tide would appear to raise the palace and then carry it heavenwards (Medrash Tanchumah Bereishis 7).
[17] The Capital of the World
The Medrash explains that during this time period, Egypt ruled over the entire world and all of the nations were subservient to it (Yalkut Shimoni, Shemos 7:182).
[18] Ferocious lions
Lions, as well as other ferocious animals, guarded each of the palace’s four-hundred entrances. The only way that someone could possibly pass these vicious animals was if their guards fed them enough meat to distract them from harming the visitor passing them (Yalkut Shimoni 7:181).
[19] The Enormous Palace
The Medrash describes the heavy protection that the palace received. There were four entrances into the palace; 100 from each direction, and in total, each side of the palace was protected by 60,000 guards (Yalkut Shimoni, Shemos 4:175).
[20] The Nile god
The Egyptians worshipped the Nile as a god. It was for this reason, explains the Medrash, that Hashem struck the Nile first, essentially smiting their god, leaving the people with no one to turn to (Shemos Rabbah 9:9).
[21] Hashem’s Daughter, Basya
Although the verse in Divrei Hayamim refers to Pharaoh’s daughter as being called Bisya (4:18), in Jewish tradition, she is often referred to as Basya. One can assume that this tradition is based on the Medrash which says that Hashem said to Basya, daughter of Pharaoh, “Moshe was not your son, yet you called him your son, so even though you are not My daughter I will call you My daughter.” Thus, the name Bisya was changed to Basya; made up from the two words— bas (daughter of) Y-a (Hashem) (Vayikra Rabbah 1:3).
[22] Basya’s Ladies-in-Waiting
The Sifsei Kohen relates that Pharaoh’s daughter had thirty ladies-in-waiting (Shemos 2:2). The Ohr HaChaim writes that it was customary for every noblewoman to have such women who would constantly stay by their side to tend to their needs (Shemos 2:5). Specifically, notes the Malbim, Basya’s ladies-in-waiting were all from noble families and daughters of ministers (Shemos 2:5).
[23] Why Goshen?
The Netziv explains that when the sons of Yaakov accepted Pharaoh’s offer to reside in Goshen (see Bereishis 45:17-18), Yosef used his authority to relocate the current population of Goshen so that his brothers and their families would live in complete isolation in accordance with Yaakov’s will (Ha’Emek Davar, Bereishis 45:9). An additional reason for settling in Goshen is provided by the Medrash, which says that when Sarah — Avraham’s wife — was abducted by Pharaoh many years earlier, and subsequently returned to him after one night, Pharaoh gave her the land of Goshen as a gift. (Interestingly, the Medrash relates that the night Sarah was abducted was Pesach night.) Therefore, when Yaakov and his children settled in Goshen, they were actually coming to live in a land which rightfully belonged to them (Pirkei D’Rebbe Eliezer, 26).
[24] Tzoan or Goshen?
The two prominent Egyptian cities featured in the Torah are Tzoan and Goshen. Tzoan was the most respected city in Egypt, and where Pharaoh’s seat of power was based (Rashi, Sotah 34b). Pharaoh’s ministers and advisers also lived in the capital city (Yeshayahu 30:4, with the Abarbanel, Yeshayahu, ch.19). In fact, Tzoan was such a prominent place in Egypt, that the Baal HaTurim notes that whenever a verse mentions “Egypt”, it is referring to Tzoan, as opposed to when the Torah says “the land of Egypt” which refers to the entire land (Devarim 9:12).
Goshen, however, was the most fertile part of Egypt. Both, in terms of the air and the pasture (Bereishis 47:6 with Chizkuni). In fact, the numerical gematria of the Torah’s description of Goshen: “בְּמֵיטַב הָאָרֶץ, the best part of the land,” is the same as the name Goshen “גּשֶׁן” — both adding up to 359 — suggesting that it was not only considered the best part of Egypt, but it really was the best part of Egypt (Baal HaTurim, ibid.). Goshen was thus ideal for raising cattle, and indeed, it was for this reason that Pharaoh granted Yaakov and his sons permission to live there after they informed him that they were shepherds (Bereishis 47:4). However, due to the fact that the Jewish Nation was oppressed and enslaved and had no time to work their land or tend to their flocks, we can presume that their livestock was no longer in the same robust condition that it had been in when the Jewish People initially arrived in Goshen.
In fact, this approach answers a glaring contradiction; for when Pharaoh describes Goshen, he calls it “the best part of the land” (Bereishis 47:6), yet, when the Gemara praises Eretz Yisrael through comparing its least fertile area to Egypt’s most fertile area, Tzoan is considered “the greatest of the land”, not Goshen (Sotah 34b). To answer this contradiction, the Maskil Le’Dovid says that initially, Goshen was the most fertile part of Egypt, however, once the Jewish People began to stray from the path of their forefathers and began to be subjugated, Hashem did not bless their land in the same way. Alternatively, the Maskil Le’Dovid suggests that Goshen was the best of the land for grazing sheep, whereas Tzoan’s pastures were more fertile for growing trees. Accordingly, when comparing the land of Egypt to Eretz Yisrael, the message is that even the most exquisite terrain in the finest areas of Egypt did not compare to the least fertile land in Eretz Yisrael (Devarim 11:11).
[25] The Jewish Shepherds
Since one of the deities in Egypt was the sheep, shepherds were abhorrent to Egyptians. Indeed, when Yosef brought his family down to Egypt, he feared that Pharaoh and the people would welcome them and want to place them in high governmental positions. Apprehensive that such a scenario would lead to assimilation, he brought his five weakest-looking brothers before Pharaoh and told him that all of this brothers were shepherds. As a result, Pharaoh made sure that they were sent far away in Goshen, ostensibly where the pasture was best suited for their livelihood, but also, to keep them away from the Egyptians who loathed such an occupation (Bereishis 46:34 with Rashi and Ha’Emek Davar).
[26] The Danger of Assimilation
The Netziv notes that contrary to the direction of their forefather Yaakov, many of his descendants moved out of Goshen and spread throughout the entire land of Egypt (Yalkut Shimoni, Shemos 1:162). In time, they started to hide their illustrious lineage, even abandoning the mitzvah of bris milah in order to mix in with their Egyptian neighbors. For this reason — and only this reason — the Egyptian’s hatred was ignited against the Jewish People, and the decrees started. The Netziv ends with a chilling statement that this dire consequence was not limited to Egypt, rather, the pervasive mindset of wanting to be like every other nation is precisely the reason why the Jewish People face such persecution in every generation (Ha’emek Davar, Shemos 1:7).
[27] Pharaoh Seeks an Informer
Pharaoh incorrectly assumed that there would be many traitors among the Jewish People, since he knew that their ancestors — Yosef’s brothers—turned against their own brother and sold him as a slave (Tzror Hamor, Shemos 1:8).
[28] No Traitors Among the People
The Medrash tells us that the Jewish People never slandered one another or informed against one another (Vayikra Rabbah 32:5). Additionally, they kept each other’s secrets (Medrash Tanchumah, Bamidbar 25:1).
[29] Rising Assimilation
The Medrash relates that the Jewish People filled the Egyptian theaters and circuses (Yalkut Shimoni, Shemos 1:162). As assimilation continued, many Jewish People even started to worship the gods and idols of Egypt (Yechezkel 20:7-8. See also Rashi, Shemos 12:6).
The Beis HaLevi explains that Pharaoh engaged in what has essentially been seen in every subsequent generation: antisemitic trope (Shemos 1:9). Although Pharaoh hated the Jewish People, it would appear inappropriate to the Egyptians to subjugate them for no reason; thus he needed the Egyptian people to arrive at his way of thinking. Therefore, in order to stir up hatred for them, he told his ministers and national leaders that the Jewish people were cheating them out of their wealth, stealing their money, and enriching themselves by taking interest on Egyptian loans. The Beis HaLevi bases his words on an alternative reading of the verse: “The Children of Israel, are more numerous and stronger than us” (Shemos 1:9). For it can, in fact, be read as follows: “The Children of Israel are greater and wealthier from us” — meaning that their greatness and wealth is “from us”. For this reason, explains the Beis HaLevi, the first method of subjugation was to impose upon the Jewish People taxes in order to reclaim what the Egyptians believed rightfully belonged to them (Shemos 1:11).
[31] They are Dangerous
The official reason for the Egyptians’ fear of the Jewish People was their rapid population growth. Pharaoh says, “Come, let us act wisely against it (the Jewish Nation) lest it becomes [more] numerous and when a war will take place, they will also join our enemies and attack us, and go up from the land” (Shemos 1:10). However, as we have stated above, the real reason for Pharaoh’s animosity was the Jewish People’s divergence from the path of their forefathers. In all likelihood, Pharaoh himself did not realize that this was the root of his illogical hatred. However, as the verse says: “The heart of a king is in Hashem’s hand” (Mishlei 21:1). Thus, Pharaoh was simply a pawn in Hashem’s plan to bring the Jewish People closer to Him. Pharaoh was nevertheless still punished for his part in the Jewish Nation’s suffering, because, although Hashem determined that a nation would subjugate the Jewish People, He did not select which nation it would be. Pharoah’s terrible iniquity secured that he would lead the nation in question. Essentially, Pharaoh used his freewill to choose himself to fulfill this ugly task and was therefore punished accordingly (Rambam, Hilchos Teshuvah 6:5).
[32] Egypt: The Most Powerful and the Most Wicked
Since Egypt was the world’s leading power, kings from near and far would pay homage and bring gifts to Pharaoh. Specifically, his birthday and the anniversary of his rule would be times when all would gather in Pharaoh’s palace with their idols in order to show respect to Pharaoh and pray for his continued success (Shemos Rabbah, 5:14 with Eitz Yosef). Another Medrash explains that not only was Egypt the world’s leading power, essentially ruling over the entire world, but they were also the leading nation in sin, immorality, and depravity. They were the most base nation, spreading iniquity throughout the world. For this reason, explains the Medrash, Hashem decided that Egypt would be the tormentors of the Jewish People in order that it and all of its wickedness would be wiped out. For, this would come to serve as the greatest possible sanctification of Hashem’s name (Yalkut Shimoni, Shemos 7:182).
[33] Mass Murder is not Socially Acceptable
The Ramban explains that at the early stage of the Jewish People’s oppression, it would not have been acceptable even among the people of Egypt to openly annihilate a nation who were invited to be there in the first place (Shemos 1:10).
[34] Let Us Act Cunningly
By acting cunningly against the Jewish People instead of openly attacking them, Pharaoh solved several of the challenges he faced. First, he would not face criticism from his advisers or the general populace. Second, the Jewish People would not realize that they were being targeted out of hatred, and would be willing to comply with the instructions given to them (Ramban, Shemos 1:10). The Be’er Mayim Chaim writes that Pharaoh had an ulterior motive to trick the Jewish People, for he knew that their strength is found in prayer, and so, if he would have openly decreed to annihilate the Jewish Nation or to force them into slavery, they would have immediately prayed to Hashem to save them, and He would have. Therefore, by acting cunningly, and tricking the the Jewish People into slavery, they would not know that they were in trouble, and would not use their most powerful weapon — their voice (Shemos 1:13). In fact, it was only once the Nation was able to realize how bad their situation was that they finally cried out to Hashem. At that moment, they were instantly answered, forming the start of the redemption process (Shemos 2:23-24).
[35] Iyov Advises Taxes
The Me’am Lo’ez cites an opinion that whereas Pharaoh was seeking ways to kill the Jewish People as a whole, Iyov attempted to save them by placating Pharaoh, telling him it would be sufficient to cause them to be destitute. This, one can assume, is in accordance with the Gemara which says that someone in extreme poverty is considered “dead” in many respects (Nedarim 64b). Rav Chaim Shmuelevits explains that the reason for this comparison is because someone who lacks minimal resources and is incapable of contributing to society cannot participate in the primary purpose of being alive — to give (Sichos Mussar, 5732:31).
[36] Iyov’s Bad Advice
Despite Iyov’s good intentions of saving the Jewish People from being killed, he was nevertheless punished by Hashem measure-for-measure for advising that Pharaoh harm the Jewish People financially (Zohar 2:33a). His punishment, explains Me’am Lo’ez, was that all of his possessions would be taken from him, and he would suffer terribly. Why was Iyov punished if he was trying to save the Jewish People’s lives? Because he should have protested Pharaoh’s intention to harm the Jewish People in the first place just like his fellow adviser Yisro did (Me’am Lo’ez, Shemos 1:10).
[37] Strip Them of Their Wealth
As we stated previously, the Kli Yakar explains that the decree placed upon the Jewish People came due to the vast amount of wealth they had accrued, catching the attention of Pharaoh who decided to reduce them to poverty (Shemos 1:7). As such, heavy taxes were introduced on the Nation to strip them of their wealth (Shemos 1:11). The Ibn Ezra, however, says that Pharaoh sought to tax them as a means of curbing their vast levels of procreation (Shemos 1:11).
For all those who had not already abandoned the practice, Pharaoh banned bris milah as part of his cruel decrees (Pirkei D’Rebbe Eliezer, 29).
[39] Bilam the Sorcerer
Bilam, the great magician and enemy of the Jewish People was one of the most respected advisers of Pharaoh and was complicit in the plan to rid Egypt of the Jewish Nation (Sotah 11a). Medrash Sefer HaYashar describes Bilam’s beginnings as a servant to an African king named Augias. At fifteen years old he was already renowned for his extraordinary ability in magic and divination. Initially working with the king’s army against Egypt, Bilam eventually fled to Egypt where he was welcomed with great honor due to the scores of Egyptians who desired to learn his skills (Shemos 4:19).
Although the Gemara relates that Bilam was blind in one eye (and, according to one understanding of Rashi, his eyeball was actually missing, leaving a gaping hole (Rashi, Bamidbar 24:3)) this happened many years later when he attempted to curse the Jewish Nation as they camped in the desert (Nidda 31a, with Maharsha Chiddushei Aggados “V’al Davar Zeh”). Interestingly, the Medrash reveals that one possible reason why Bilam continuously sought the Nation’s destruction was because he was a reincarnation of Lavan who sought to destroy the entire Nation for no rational reason (Yalkut Shimoni 2:168). Because of this, notes the Maharal, Lavan, who seemingly has nothing to do with Pesach, is specifically mentioned in the Haggadah for being the archetype anti-Semite who hates the Jewish Nation without cause (Gevuros Hashem, 54).
The Ksav v’Hakabalah explains that Pharaoh initially levied a tax on the Jewish People, and if a person was unable to pay, in lieu of payment, he would be required to work at one of the building sites. Through this method, Pharaoh was able to impoverish the Jewish People while slowly delivering them into slavery (Shemos 1:11).
[41] The More They Oppress, the More They Grow
Miraculously, despite Pharaoh’s attempts to limit the Jewish Nation, the more he subjugated them, the more they grew (Shemos 1:12). This would have greatly encouraged the Jewish People who understood through Divine revelation that Hashem was frustrating Pharaoh’s plans to destroy the Jewish People and would never let that happen (Rashi, Sotah 11a).
[42] Thorns in the Egyptians’ Eyes
The Gemara describes how seeing the prolific birth rate of the Jewish Nation physically pained the Egyptians. So much so, that they felt as if their eyes and bodies were full of thorns (Sotah 11a with Rashi).
[43] Avraham Defeats Four Kings
In miraculous fashion, Avraham defeated four mighty nations in battle (see Bereishis 14:1-16 with Bereishis Rabbah 43:3)
[44] Shimon and Levi Attack Shechem
In response to the heinous abduction of their sister Dinah, Shimon and Levi attacked Shechem and captured the city (Bereishis 34:2-29).
[45] Thoroughly Ensnared
The Medrash relates that the warm welcoming of Yaakov’s family into Egypt and Pharoah’s subsequent refusal to allow them to leave is hinted to in the fact that Hashem revealed Himself to Moshe in a burning bush. For, just as the bush has thorns which face downward, allowing someone to place their hand inside easily, but not be able to remove it, so too, the Egyptians welcomed Yaakov’s family into Egypt but made it impossible for them to leave. Hashem’s message at the burning bush was that despite this, He would be taking the Jewish People out of Egypt (Yalkut Shimoni, Shemos 3:169).
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