The Classic Division (Detzakh, Adash, Be'achav): 3 + 3 + 3 + 1 = 10
The most familiar way of dividing the ten plagues is also the least mathematical. R. Yehuda organizes the plagues into three groups using acronyms formed from the first letters of the Hebrew names of the plagues: detza"kh (dam – blood, tzefardeya – frogs, kinim – lice), ada"sh (arov – mixed multitudes, dever – pestilence, shechin – boils), be'achav (barad – hail, arbeh – locusts, choshekh – darkness, and bekhorot – death of the firstborn).[1] As it primarily categorizes the plagues as three groups of three plagues each, this division likely views the final plague – death of the firstborn – as a separate climactic blow, not actually included in the third group (despite the acronym, which appears to include it).[2]
Rashbam (7:26) points out that these groups share an internal pattern: Moses warns Pharaoh in advance during the first two plagues of each group, while the third plague of each group (lice, boils, and darkness) strikes without warning. The absence of a warning is curious and lends itself to some measure of theological discomfort.[3] How could God send a plague against the Egyptians without first giving them the option to surrender to God's demands? Perhaps this is God's way of telling Pharaoh (who repeatedly promises to send Israel, and then immediately rescinds his promise when God withdraws the plague) that he will only get a certain number of chances; eventually, God will punish the Egyptians without giving them recourse to repentance.[4] Nachmanides posits that God issues warnings only for life-threatening plagues; since lice, boils, and darkness are not fatal, they are delivered without prior warning.
To reinforce Rashbam's observation that each group of three follows a 2+1 pattern, I would note that the first two plagues in each set are closely linked both linguistically and thematically, perhaps in a unique way. For example, blood and frogs share the theme of the Nile and both reference the unique word ba'ash, meaning to rot or stink. Mixed multitudes (arov) and pestilence center on animals and contain the rare biblical word peleh, meaning to separate.[5] Hail and locusts specifically target the crops and also share several unique linguistic features, such as the phrase lema'an saper ("so that it will be told").
This three-plague pattern is further developed by Rabbeinu Bechaye's observation regarding the location for Moses' warnings during the first and second plagues of each group:
In the first plague [of each group], He said [to Moses], "Stand before Pharaoh," and in the second He said, "Come unto Pharaoh"…. Therefore, it seems to me that when Moses informed [Pharaoh] of the plagues, he would first warn him on the Nile and then a second time in his palace, because when it says, "Come unto Pharaoh," it means that [Moses] should enter [Pharaoh's] palace. (Rabbeinu Bechaye, Shemot 10:1)
The first blow of each series (blood, arov, and hail) opens with God instructing Moses to get up in the morning (7:15; 8:16; 9:13) and confront Pharaoh next to the Nile.[6] God launches the second plague of each group (frogs, pestilence, and locusts) by commanding Moses to "come in" to Pharaoh (7:26, 9:1, 10:1); according to Rabbeinu Bechaye, this calls for Moses to enter Pharaoh's palace, his inner sanctum. Thus, Moses' initial warning occurs outside, while the second takes place within the confines of the palace.[7] God's message rings clear: Pharaoh can retreat into his palace, but he cannot hide from God.[8] Moreover, as Rabbeinu Bechaye notes, this pattern illustrates how God strikes Pharaoh in symbolic locations, the very places that embody the core of Pharaoh's power and pride:
One warning [would be given] at his [Pharaoh's] Nile and another warning in his palace, to illustrate… his haughtiness, and his prideful splendor. For he was prideful about his Nile, as it says, "This is my Nile, and I have created it!" (Yechezkel 29:3); and he was prideful about his palace, as it says, "And he came unto his house," (Rabbeinu Bechaye, ibid.)
One can only imagine Pharaoh's outrage as Moses boldly admonishes him at the bank of the Nile, the source of Egypt's rich bounty. And then, to make matters worse, Moses brushes off any pretense of respect for the king's space, impudently entering the royal palace with his threats.[9] The palace is not simply Pharaoh's haven; it reflects his splendor and his unassailable might.[10] Moses' bold choice of locations for delivering his warnings to Pharaoh undermines and exposes the fragility of Pharaoh's sources of security.
Abravanel observes that each of the three groups opens with a purpose clause, explaining the objective of that group. To launch the first set of plagues, God instructs Moses to go to Pharaoh and say, "So says God, 'With this you will know that I am the Lord!'" (7:17). Although the verse goes on to describe the impending plague of blood, Abravanel suggests that this sentence introduces the entire first group of plagues, which is intended to teach the existence of God to a king and nation unaware of Him. At the beginning of the second group of plagues (arov), God sends Moses to Pharaoh with a slightly modified message: "So you will know that I am the Lord in the midst of the earth!" (8:18). Here God directs a group of plagues to teach Pharaoh that the God of Israel cares about and has control over what happens on earth. Finally, the plague of hail launches the third set, as God hurls the following words to Pharaoh: "So that you should know that there is none like Me in the entire earth" (9:14). This group of plagues, in Abravanel's view, is meant to demonstrate to Pharaoh that God has absolute control over nature and can alter it at His will.
The Third Plague
If the first two plagues of each set constitute a pair (as noted above), then the third plague of each set stands alone, intriguing in its solitary, climactic position. The three final plagues – lice, boils, and darkness – strike without warning. A distinctive phrase describes the plagues of lice and boils: they strike "upon the human and upon the beast (ba-adam u-va'beheima)" (8:13-14, 9:10). This phrase underscores the personal nature of these plagues, which afflict the body and isolate their victims. Darkness also seems to settle upon their bodies, enveloping the Egyptians in a tangible gloom "that can be touched" (10:21). Moreover, the text vividly portrays the isolation the plague imposed, as "people could not see their fellow humans, and no one could get up from their seat" (Shemot 10:23). Each of these climactic plagues forces the Egyptians to suffer alone, trapped in helpless paralysis.
Several Rabbinic sources suggest that these three plagues were actually intertwined each time, afflicting the Egyptians as a combined trio of torments.[11] When God strikes Egypt with the plague of lice, it is accompanied by traces of boils and darkness, while lice and darkness intensify the plague of boils. As darkness descends over Egypt, the plagues of lice and boils linger alongside, mingling together to afflict the Egyptians. This idea likely developed as a result of an intriguing linguistic phenomenon, based on the orthography of the Hebrew names of the three plagues. When written in their basic (defective) form, these words – כנם (lice), שחן (boils), and חשך (darkness) – each consist of three letters. Arranged in a square grid, they form a word square, allowing them to be read both horizontally (right to left) and vertically (down to up).[12]
Arriving suddenly and without warning – and striking the body directly – these plagues evoke a profound sense of powerlessness and vulnerability. They may be intended to replicate the human experience after death – lice and boils corrode the flesh, and a midrash suggests that lice on living bodies mimic the maggots and worms that consume a corpse.[13] Darkness engulfs humans in a terrifying sense of oblivion and confusion, often likened in biblical texts to the experience of the dead: "He has placed me in darkness, like the dead of the world" (Eikha 3:6).[14] This deathlike state is compounded by immobility; the Egyptians could not move for three days.
Thus, as these plagues unfold, the hapless Egyptians are confronted with intimations of mortality. The lice, boils, and darkness create a mounting, ominous sense of impending doom. Perhaps even more significantly, God's message aims to reshape the Egyptians' understanding of what follows after death.
Ancient Egyptians invested great energy and resources in combatting the finality of death. While Egyptian texts vary in their portrayal of the afterlife, many suggest a vision of a corporeal existence, where, if proper measures have been taken, individuals will be able to resume life much as they knew it.[15] To this end, they developed an elaborate system to ensure successful passage to the next world, preserved bodies through mummification,[16] constructed grand pyramids, and crammed their tombs with every imaginable item they might need in the afterlife.[17] All this amounts to an Egyptian belief that they could control their fate after death, a form of hubris that allowed them to dismiss the need for obedience to a commanding God.[18]
Striking swiftly and without warning, the plagues of lice, boils, and darkness offer the Egyptians a chilling glimpse of death. These glimpses, arriving with ominous regularity every third plague, are meant to shatter the Egyptians' hubristic confidence in an afterlife they believe they can control. The human desire to dictate what happens after death is ultimately futile; these plagues illustrate that only God holds the knowledge of what awaits beyond this life.[19]
The Snake
Gliding between the lines of these third plagues hides a slightly obscured snake. A symbol of Egypt,[20] the snake surfaces at the center of the word square formed by this grouping of plagues: note that the word for snake – נחש – appears both horizontally (left to right) and vertically (top to bottom) in the middle row of the square:
As death swirls around the Egyptians in the form of this plague set, the snake's presence in the linguistic weave contains profound significance. The snake first appeared in the Garden of Eden as the primordial symbol of a creature arrogant enough to defy God. The snake's words to the woman, dismissing her fear of death if she eats from the forbidden tree, echo with Egyptian-like hubris: "You shall certainly not die! For God knows that the day that you eat from it, your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and bad!" (Bereishit 3:3-4). Several elements here connect to our narrative. First, the snake is apparently unafraid of death himself, which emboldens him to confidently urge the woman to defy God's command. Second, the snake seems to think that humans have the capacity to outwit God, or at the very least, to become God's equal. For the snake, the notion that humans could acquire knowledge poses a threat to God, which is, he claims, why God forbids eating from the tree. Without delving too deeply into the complexities of this exchange, it seems clear that the snake of Eden, situated in a garden of rivers and plentiful fertility, foreshadows the Egyptians, who are blessed with the bounty of the Nile. Like the primordial snake, the Egyptians do not fear death and believe that human pursuit of knowledge can grant godlike powers. This notion is reflected in their deification of Pharaoh, illustrating their conviction that humans can attain divine status.
It turns out, however, that the snake cannot outwit God, nor can he so easily dismiss death. God curses him for his audacity and hubris: the snake's existence will be a constant struggle for survival; he is condemned to slither upon the earth under the perpetual threat of his head being crushed:
And the Lord God said to the snake: "Because you have done this, you are cursed more than all the animals and all the beasts of the field. You shall move on your belly and eat dust for all the days of your life…[humans] will crush your head…" (Bereishit 3:14-15)
The snake's downfall emerges as a cautionary tale. A creature that once spoke and walked with brazen confidence now slithers in disgrace upon its belly, face-down upon the earth, doomed to constantly see, and even consume, the very dust that symbolizes the inevitable fate of all living beings: "For you are dust and to dust you shall return" (Bereishit 3:19).
A midrash indicates that the snake's miserable fate portends Egypt's eventual downfall:
On your belly you shall move… The snake comes to teach of the downfall of Egypt. (Bereishit Rabba 20:5)
Egypt, who boastfully prepares for the afterlife under the illusion that they have outsmarted death and have acquired knowledge that belongs to God, will face a swift and devastating fall. This is the inevitable fate of all whose hubris leads them to defy God.
I will conclude with a final reflection on the human pursuit of immortality. The fear of oblivion has long haunted human societies, driving countless efforts to transcend the finality of death. A midrash seems to acknowledge this need, offering an alternate path to immortality:
R. Pinchas said: That entire generation who heard God's voice merited to be like angels. They were not overcome by any form of lice, and in their death, no maggots infested them. They are content in this world and in the afterlife, and Scripture alludes to them when it says: "Content is the nation that this is his way" (Tehillim 144:15). (Yalkut Shimoni, Vaetchanan, 831)
There is only one certain path to achieving eternality: dedicating one's life to something eternal – namely, God. Through serving God, one comes to realize that one's existence is bound up with the eternal, thus transcending death by becoming part of something with enduring value and infinite existence. As Devarim 4:4 proclaims, "You, who cleave to the Lord your God, you all remain alive today!"
[1] Sifrei Devarim 26, cited also in the haggada and elsewhere. This division is commonly adopted by Chazal in various contexts (for example, Shemot Rabba 8:3 maintains that this mnemonic was engraved on Moses' staff). Here I have used conventional translations of the plagues, though we will later explore the debates surrounding their precise identities as we examine each one in detail.
[2]. "See Seforno on Shemot 8:12, who classifies the tenth plague as belonging to a category of its own. Accordingly, in this analysis of the three triads of plagues, I will not address the tenth plague, which stands apart."
[3] TanchumaVaera 14:1 highlights God's practice of warning His enemies before striking as a defining difference between Him and human beings, who attack enemies without warning so they will have no chance to escape.
[4] Rabbeinu Bechaye (Shemot 10:1) attributes this to a legal principle (based on Mishna Sanhedrin 9:5): "One who is struck and commits the prohibition again, does not receive a warning." See similarly Lekach Tov Shemot 8:15.
[5] This word (which appears only five times in the Bible) reappears in 11:7 as part of the preparation for the final plague. Aside from that, it is used solely in these two plagues to highlight the explicit distinction God makes between Israel and Egypt during these events.
[6] The Nile is not mentioned as the setting for the warning for the plague of hail (9:13), an omission that does not appear to disturb Rabbeinu Bechaye, who still includes the plague of hail in the overall pattern.
[7] Abravanel (7:26, 9:13) presents an alternative explanation for this pattern, suggesting that the first warning is delivered publicly to Pharaoh in the presence of his servants and advisors, while the second is given to Pharaoh in private, with the hope that he might be more receptive to rebuke when addressed personally.
[8] Rabbein Bechaye points out that this becomes clear after the first plague, when Pharaoh retreats into his house, deliberately ignoring the plague's impact (7:23). In response, God next instructs Moses to follow Pharaoh into his house (7:26), showing him that he cannot escape God's blows. Later prophets often castigate those who think they can hide from divine punishments (see, e.g., Amos 9:2-3; Ovadia 3-4).
[9] Some midrashim contend with the question of how Moses was able to enter the well-guarded palace if the king did not wish him to enter, positing that this is an indication of God's great might. Alternatively, I would suggest that the palace may have been open to petitioners, and it is testimony to Moses' fearlessness and faith in God that he takes advantage of this policy, entering the palace to berate and threaten the king.
[10] As noted earlier, the Egyptian word Pharaoh is a compound word: Par, meaning house and Oh, meaning great. "The Great House" references both the palace and the king; the glory of the Pharaoh and of his palace blend into a unified entity.
[11] See, for example, the Yalkut Reuveni Vaera 77, a medieval midrashic collection. See also Da'at Zekeinim, Shemot 7:25.
[12] This is noted by the Da'at Zekeinim on Shemot 7:25.
[13] Avot De-Rabbi Natan, Nuscha A, 19. The context of this midrash is not a discussion of the plagues in Egypt, but rather a commentary on the mishna in Avot 3:1 that discusses death.
[14] See also Tehillim 49:20; 88:11-13; Kohelet 6:4; Iyov 10:19-22.
[15] For example, Spell 110 of The Book of the Dead (a collection of funerary texts used in ancient Egypt) is meant to be spoken by the deceased to the goddess in a bid to enter an afterlife that mirrors life on earth: "I acquire this field of yours which you love... I eat and carouse in it, I drink and plough in it, I reap in it, I copulate in it… I do not perish in it, for my magic is powerful in it." A wall painting from the tomb of the craftsman Sennedjem (1292-1186 BCE) depicts Sennedjem with his wife, Iyneferti, harvesting wheat, plowing their field, and harvesting fruit from their trees.
[16] Possibly, the bodies were initially preserved so that they would reawaken in the afterlife as corporeal beings. The Book of the Dead has a section that suggests the soul is restored to its corporeal body: "I unite your limbs, I hold your discharges together, I surround your flesh, I drive away the fluids of your decay... I wipe away your tears, I heal all your limbs, each being united with the other; I surround you with the work of the weaving goddess, I complete you and form you as Ra." Later texts indicate that the mummified bodies were there to preserve the ka spirit and enable the incorporeal parts of the spirit (the ba and the akh) to exist after death.
[17] Egyptians placed in the tombs assorted objects necessary for daily life: tools, pots, jewelry, perfume, combs, chests, chairs, couches, thrones, baskets, food, scrolls, games, fans, art, chariot, weapons, clothes, servants. Through a magical process, these models and pictures would materialize when needed in the afterlife. For example, shabtis were small statuettes placed in the tomb that were designed as servants. Spell 472 of the Coffin Texts and Spell 6 of The Book of the Dead contain instructions for the soul to call the shabti to life in the afterlife so that the deceased would not have to perform labor on his own.
[18] Like many ancient cultures, the Egyptians worshipped an elaborate pantheon of gods. This religious framework was largely of their own making, designed to give humans the illusion of control over forces beyond their grasp – such as rain, fertility, natural disasters, and the afterlife. This system was tailored to serve the needs and interests of the Egyptian elite, with the Pharaoh himself granted godlike status, further entrenching corruption within the religious structure. In contrast, serving one supreme God introduces the concept of absolute morality, encouraging faith and trust in events that lie beyond human understanding. This is not to suggest that monotheistic religions are immune to corruption for human gain, but rather that the system itself is intended to cultivate faith in a higher moral order.
[19] These three plagues emphasize human failure by placing it at the heart of the narrative. For example, the text explicitly states that the Egyptian magicians were unable to replicate the plague of lice (8:14). Later, during the plague of boils, the magicians are rendered utterly powerless – they couldn't even stand before Moses because they themselves were afflicted with boils (9:11). The repeated phrase "and they could not" (ve-lo yachlu) highlights the magicians' inadequacy, especially when confronting plagues that mirror the experience of death. While the plague of darkness does not use the specific term lo yachlu, Mishnat Rabbi Eliezer 19:11, extends the theme of failure seen in the plagues of lice and boils to darkness, asserting that it too reflects the impotence of Pharaoh's magicians. Furthermore, the negative lo appears twice in quick succession in the description of the darkness (lo ra'u, lo kamu) and serves the same purpose as lo yachlu, drawing attention to human helplessness: "No one saw his brother, and no one could rise" (10:23). Unlike the earlier plagues, this verse does not explicitly mention the magicians, suggesting an increasingly universal sense of paralysis and despair during the plague of darkness.
[20] Famously, the crown of the Pharaoh who ruled over a united Egypt featured an uraeus, a cobra rearing its head. See also Yirmiyahu 46:22, where the snake is used as a symbol of Egypt, and Shemot 4:3-4 (and shiur #14 in this series).
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