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Bo

Exodus 10:1 – 13:16

Parashat Bo opens with the last four plagues to befall Egypt as part of the Divine liberation plan. Plague after plague, Pharaoh first reluctantly acquiesces to Moses’ latest plea to let his people go and then changes his mind when God “hardens his heart,” thus triggering the next disastrous plague. Time after time the ante is raised and the destruction becomes more devastating. The plagues culminate with the death of the Egyptians’ firstborn sons, after which God finally lets Pharaoh free the Israelites.

Many aspects of this story are, to say the least, problematic if we read the text exclusively on the literal level. In particular, this hardening of Pharaoh’s heart grabs our attention, as it has done for generations of scholars and rabbis before us. I like a commentary by Nachum Sarna, a modern Jewish Scholar, who writes that in Torah, “The ‘hardening of the heart’ becomes synonymous with the numbing of the soul…” At a non-literal level, therefore, the text seems to be hinting at Pharaoh’s loss of the soul-dimension of his being, and his collapse into the trappings of his ego, of his conditioned mind. He acts out the overwhelming irrational fear—the driving energy of said conditioned mind—which had caused him to enslave the Israelites in the first place. Its power over him—until the death of the firstborn—appears to be greater than the most destructive of plagues.

Without in any way excusing his behavior, I began to feel compassion toward Pharaoh. With Sarna’s interpretative help, I could relate to his experience, I could see myself reflected in him when I, too, collapse into my ego and act out the fear at its center. In many ways, we all are Pharaoh. We, too, try to manipulate our reality and the people in it to comply with our rules when we harden our hearts, numb our souls. Acknowledging this helps us hold ourselves more gently and with greater compassion.

Besides, we all have a Pharaoh or two in our own lives. Understanding that their hurtful behavior—like ours at times—is a hardening of the heart, a collapse into the trappings of their fearful conditioned mind, helps us open our hearts to them in compassion. To be sure, having compassion doesn’t mean that it is safe or desirable to invite into our lives the Pharaohs that have most wounded us. There are, after all, Egypts best left behind, plagues not worth revisiting, and healthy boundaries worth maintaining.

Practicing compassion toward our outer or inner Pharaohs will support our ability to eventually get to a place where we no longer let our soul be numb, and where we are able to fully manifest the radiant Light of our unique Self. By breaking down the barriers of separateness and tearing down the walls of the fortress that we call “self,” we gradually awaken to the Oneness of Being alive in all sentient beings. The question posed to us, therefore, is: how many plagues will it take for us to finally dare walk into that freedom?