Parshas Vaeira 5781
Ask any child who brought the Ten Plagues upon the Egyptians, and you will receive the straightforward answer: G-d. Yet when it comes to the Second Plague, we find a strange twist. The Midrash explains that it was not G-d Who unleashed a massive swarm of frogs upon the Egyptian citizenry. G-d brought but one frog; it was the people themselves who brought on the rest.
וַיֵּ֤ט אַהֲרֹן֙ אֶת־יָד֔וֹ עַ֖ל מֵימֵ֣י מִצְרָ֑יִם וַתַּ֙עַל֙ הַצְּפַרְדֵּ֔עַ וַתְּכַ֖ס אֶת־אֶ֥רֶץ מִצְרָֽיִם׃
שמות ח:ב
And Aharon stretched his hand upon the waters of Egypt. And the frog rose up and it covered the Land of Egypt.
Shemos 8:2
The Midrash notes that the word “tzfardeia”—the singular for “frog”—is used, rather than the plural “tzfarde’im”. And though the singular may be used to refer to a collective swarm of frogs, the Midrash seizes upon the fact that in the surrounding pesukim, the plural term is used. The Midrash explains that, at least initially, the plague was comprised of a singular frog, but that this initial frog multiplied, spewing forth additional frogs every time an Egyptian struck it.
This, of course, begs the obvious question: Why keep hitting the frog? Realizing that this miraculous amphibian could not be destroyed and that any attempt to do so would only be digging a deeper collective grave for Egyptian society, why did they continue to strike it?
The simple answer is that to reign themselves in—to stop themselves from succumbing to self-destructive impulses—the Egyptians would need to change. They would need to suddenly pivot from their prior mode of behavior and adopt a brand new one. Egyptian society had been built on the currency of violence and oppression: the enslavement of millions of Jews through inhumane means built them a mighty empire. Abuse of the weak had brought them success, but, if perpetuated, would now lead to their demise. Could they change?
As the Plague of Frogs unfolded, the Egyptians showed that the force and cruelty that had become so embedded in their national personality was not easily uprooted. Striking the “Source Frog” was an exercise in utter futility, and yet they could not help themselves. The traits that had been compounded for centuries could not be “unlearned” in just a few days. It would have been obvious to any bystander that the only way out of this fix would be for the Egyptians to stay their own hands and not strike. And yet they couldn’t, for they knew no other way.
That the plague was brought on through these means can be no mere coincidence. Quite obviously, it was precisely this behavioral phenomenon that Hashem was attempting to test. Could the Egyptians extricate themselves from their own habits, or would they become trapped by them?
The drama of the Ten Plagues sets the stage for the freedom of the Jewish People. And it is the issue of freedom, and how we define it, that stands at the core of the second plague. The Egyptians had physically subjugated the Jews through external force and tyranny. And yet when one considers the actions of the Egyptian masses as the frogs slowly spread throughout the country, the question of who was truly enslaved becomes difficult to answer. Yes, the Egyptians were free to move about, explore opportunities, and engage in fun and recreation in a way the Jews could not. And yet it would be difficult to say that a people so thoroughly bound by their impulses, incapable of breaking from habit even at their own peril, were truly free. On the most primal level, the Egyptians were slaves to themselves.
What a critical lesson this must have been for the Jews who looked on as the Egyptians, in effect, brought the Plague of Frogs upon themselves. Hashem was instructing His people to take stock of the pitfalls of physical freedom. In just a few months, the Jewish People would have that their freedom and would need to consider what they would do with it. Gone unchecked, without a rigorous code of law and behavior that makes constant demands of its adherents to change and further develop, the free man becomes imprisoned within his own compulsions that subvert all the subvert his physical freedom.
We must never become so accustomed to freedom that we lose sight of why it is meaningful to possess. If we begin to define freedom as the opportunity to eat, watch, and do what we like, we inch ever closer to the sorry state of the Egyptians, developing the corrosive habits born of freedom itself that ultimately serve to shackle us in ways perhaps even more dangerous and damaging than physical servitude ever could.
Freedom is the gift of growth, of development, and of transcendence. It is the opportunity to become better than who we are now and to consciously leave old habits behind to attain greater personal heights. Free bodies are worthwhile only when we maintain free will. When used in tandem, these truly are the greatest gifts of all.