At a glance, the departure of Makas Tzfardeya seems standard and uneventful. Paroh summons Mohe and Aharon to his palace, begs for the frogs’ riddance on condition that he let the Bnei Yisrael leave, and fails to fulfill his end of the deal. Just like every other Makah. Rashi punctiliously draws our attention to a very specific aspect of the account:
And Moshe said to Paroh, “Glorify [yourself over] me, for when shall I pray for you and your servants and your nation to remove the frogs from you…”
Shemos, 8:5
Had [the pasuk] said “when shall I pray,” if would have implied [that Moshe asked] what time [he] should pray. Now that it says “for when shall I pray,” it implies [Moshe] prayed today for the frogs to disappear on the day [Paroh] specified.
And [Paroh] said, “Pray today that they should be removed tomorrow.”
And Moshe went… and he yelled immediately that [the frogs should] disappear tomorrow.
Rashi, Shemos 8:5-8
By Rashi’s assessment, what separates this dialogue from the rest (and warrants it as one of only three dialogues between Moshe and Paroh recorded in this week’s parasha) is the fact that Moshe prayed a day early for the ending of the Makah. Rashi’s diligence to delineate this point seems a bit excessive. Once Moshe offers to pray on one day for something to happen the next, and Paroh obliges this offer, it should be readily obvious that Moshe screamed that day, and that he requested the frogs disappear the next.
Excessive nonetheless, the Chizkuni argues, the subtle point Rashi elucidates is key to our understanding of Moshe and Paroh’s relationship, or lack of one. Paroh suspected that each plague was a predictable – albeit supernatural – phenomenon that Moshe had carefully calculated. Moshe would therefore cleverly ask him “when would you like me to remove this plague” right at the end of each Makah, surely expecting him to reply, “right away!” Paroh requested that the Makah end “tomorrow” in hopes of proving Moshe to be a liar and Hashem to be a façade.
The Chizkuni’s analysis lends a beautiful quality of vindication to our story. Hashem is upheld as the all-powerful entity behind Paroh’s suffering, and Moshe is upheld as the heavenly messenger he truly is. But the Chizkuni’s pshat does not explain everything. For starters, one would expect such a challenge to originate from Paroh, yet it is Moshe’s idea to pray on one day for another.
There is another slightly more technical difficulty with these pasukim. Moshe unduly emphasizes the role of his prayer. If Paroh doubts that this Makah can end any day other than that day, why wouldn’t Moshe phrase his offer “when should the frogs disappear.” Granted, Moshe’s response is tailored after Paroh’s initial appeal (in pasuk 4, where Paroh himself says “pray to Hashem to remove the frogs”), but the Chizkuni does little to assess why Paroh himself would focus on Moshe’s prayers and Hashem’s omnipotence. With all due reverence to the Chizkuni, it seems likely that Paroh did somewhat believe in Moshe’s powers.
Rashi interrupts his commentary on these pasukim to elaborate on the nature of Atira, prayer. Rashi points out that the words Ha’tiru (pasuk 4) and A’tir (pasuk 5) are both hifil because all “Atira” is ongoing and not immediate. The term means to “increase” ones prayers, to pile and pile requests until Hashem has but no choice to listen. This is a fascinating point, but what does it have to do with our narrative?
Perhaps Rashi is pinpointing a different quality of our story’s dialogue. Paroh asks Moshe to pray on his behalf, but he expects Moshe’s prayers to take a while. Moshe will have to pour prayer on top of prayer before Hashem acquiesces. Insulted, Moshe replies “until when shall I pray for you,” to which Paroh responds, “you should spend the whole day praying, so that the plague will cease tomorrow.” However, Moshe leaves the city and “yells” his prayer. He dos not perform Atira; rather, with a short plea, he completes what is necessary for the plague to end. Paroh first insulted Moshe’s ability to communicate with G-d; ultimately, the insult of an unnecessary and extra day of frogs was Paroh’s just desserts.
With this understanding, we can make sense of Rashi’s seemingly superfluous comments. When Paroh says “tomorrow,” Rashi explains that Moshe should pray today for the plague to end tomorrow. But when Moshe yells to Hashem, Rashi says he yells immediately for the plague to end. The respective choice of these two contrasting words outlines the aforementioned discrepancy between Paroh’s orders and Moshe’s actions.
Most importantly, we discover how personally Moshe Rabbienu took Paroh’s challenge. Moshe harps on a seemingly harmless word, Ha’tiru, and turns it into his own personal triumph, making his own authority – and not just G-d’s – known to Paroh. As Hashem declares at the opening of our parasha, “Re’aih Nisaticha Elohim LiParoh,” Moshe is granted godly powers over Paroh, and when the acknowledgement of these powers is put into jeopardy, Moshe’s role is jeopardized as well.
Moshe Rabbeinu is not only an emissary of HaKadosh Baruch Hu’s. He is a leader of a nation too. The Torah we have today is narrated by G-d, but authored by Moshe, and it is through his eyes that we develop our understanding of this world and beyond. Moshe’s godly powers serve not only as a sheer exertion of will, but more significantly an earthly reflection of a greater Will. As Moshe develops into what the Rambam terms the Bechir Adam, the prototypical man, the Torah gives us a small glimpse into the qualities Moshe attains and the crucibles he must withstand.
And Rashi would be remiss not to draw our attention to it.
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