Pharaoh to Ayatollah: Hard Hearts, Tough Lessons

One of the reasons I wanted to make aliyah was the tremendous feeling of closeness to the Jewish people and G-d I felt whenever I visited. I had no idea that living here would also give me such a richer understanding of the journey our people have endured and the way we have somehow forged a path through it.

The Exodus isn’t just a story—it’s a prototype. It signals the challenges of survival in a region where enemies don’t retreat, even when logic, morality, and reality demand it. The events of October 7 and the current war are teaching me, and many others, that strength isn’t optional—it’s essential.

Coming from the UK, I arrived in Israel with a Western European ideal of the world—one shaped by diplomacy, dialogue, and the belief that reason prevails. Of course, everyone is logical, and of course, everyone wants peace, economic development, and a good future for their children. In many ways, I was the opposite of the “sabra” (cactus fruit), the famous symbol of the Israeli: tough on the outside, tender within. But the sad truth is, in this part of the world, strength is fundamental. Without it, survival is not guaranteed.

It was that way all those years ago in Egypt and this current war is showing me something I always wondered.

I’ve long wrestled with the Torah’s description of Pharaoh. When Moshe stood before him, demanding “Let My People Go,” the Torah tells us that God “hardened Pharaoh’s heart.” What does that mean? Was Pharaoh denied free will? Or was something deeper unfolding?

The answer, I’ve come to realize, is chillingly relevant. Pharaoh wasn’t forced to resist—he chose it. Again and again. He saw the devastation of the plagues, the suffering of his people, the power of God—and still, he refused. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks explained that Pharaoh’s freedom wasn’t taken from him; he gave it away. “Freedom,” he wrote, “is not the ability to do what we want, but the ability to do what is right.” Pharaoh surrendered that freedom, one act of defiance at a time.

Rav Joseph B. Soloveitchik saw Pharaoh’s downfall not as divine punishment, but as a kind of moral paralysis—a man so consumed by his own myth that he could no longer change course. And the Lubavitcher Rebbe taught that repeated sin desensitizes the soul. Pharaoh’s heart hardened because he had already chosen to ignore the divine. God simply let him walk the path he insisted on.

In our words today—he doubled down.

And now, we see this same pattern playing out in real time.

Iran’s Supreme Leader stands defiant. His air force has been shattered, his defenses breached, and the United States weighs its next move. Logic would suggest a pause, a retreat, a moment of humility. But instead, he escalates—launching missiles, targeting civilians, striking a hospital. Why?

Because, like Pharaoh, he is not responding to reality—he is defending a myth. A vision of himself as divinely ordained, unyielding, eternal. To back down would be to unravel the story he’s built around himself. So he doubles down, not because he doesn’t see the truth, but because he refuses to accept it.

This is the nature of hardened hearts. They don’t bend. They break others.

And this is why we, as a people, must be strong. Not cruel. Not reckless. But clear-eyed and resolute. The Torah doesn’t just teach compassion—it teaches courage. Moshe didn’t plead endlessly with Pharaoh. He stood firm. He delivered warnings. And when Pharaoh refused, Moshe led the people out with strength and faith.

We are not Pharaohs or ayatollahs. But we live in a world where their kind still rules. And the lesson of the Exodus is not just about liberation—it’s about the moral clarity to confront evil, the strength to endure, and the courage to act when others refuse to change.

I have had to come to my senses. I remain resolute in my commitment to ethical and moral behavior and I treat each person equally as one of God’s creations, but we must be in a position of strength because any sign of weakness in this part of the world means you are finished. Just as Pharaoh hardened his heart, so too has the Ayatollah. We must stand strong.

In these uncertain times, may we find the resolve to stand firm, the wisdom to see clearly, and the faith to walk forward—just as our ancestors did, with courage and conviction.