Our Gemara on Amud Beis discusses the Jewish perspective on physical aggression:

Reish Lakish states: One who raises his hand to strike another—even if he ultimately does not strike—is called wicked, as it is written: “And two men of the Hebrews were struggling with each other, and he said to the wicked one: Why should you strike your friend?” (Exodus 2:13). The phrase “Why did you strike?” is not stated; rather, “Why should you strike?”—indicating that even the mere act of raising a hand to strike classifies a person as wicked.

This verse appears in the well-known biblical narrative where Moshe, raised as an Egyptian prince, begins to investigate the plight of his true people, the Jews. His first encounter is with an Egyptian man beating a Jew. The following day, he sees two Jews fighting. It is intriguing that the Torah first presents Moshe witnessing violence from an Egyptian against a Jew, and then violence between two Jews. Before analyzing this pattern further, let us examine the relevant verses (Shemos 2:11-15):

Some time after that, when Moses had grown up, he went out to his kinsfolk and witnessed their labors. He saw an Egyptian beating a Hebrew, one of his kinsmen.

He turned this way and that and, seeing no one about, he struck down the Egyptian and hid him in the sand.

When he went out the next day, he found two Hebrews fighting; so he said to the offender, “Why do you strike your fellow?”

He retorted, “Who made you chief and ruler over us? Do you mean to kill me as you killed the Egyptian?” Moses was frightened and thought: Alas, then the matter is known!

When Pharaoh learned of the matter, he sought to kill Moses; but Moses fled from Pharaoh. He arrived in the land of Midian and sat down beside a well.

Be’er Mayim Chaim (Shemos 2:13) makes an insightful observation: When Moshe sees the Egyptian attacking the Jew, he acts immediately—without dialogue—killing the Egyptian in defense of the Jew. However, when he encounters two Jews fighting, he first rebukes the offender instead of resorting to action. Why does Moshe react differently in these two cases?

One simple explanation is that Moshe recognized the first situation as a case of rodef—a pursuer threatening another’s life—where immediate lethal force was justified. In contrast, in the second case, the assailant was only about to strike, and Moshe may have felt that a first blow would not necessarily be lethal, allowing him to intervene through rebuke rather than force.

Be’er Mayim Chaim provides a more lomdishe explanation. As we learned on the previous daf (57b), a gentile is liable for violating the Seven Noachide Laws without prior warning, whereas Jewish law requires that an offender be warned before punishment can be administered. Thus, in the first case, since the assailant was a gentile, Moshe did not need to issue a warning before taking action. However, in the second case, involving Jews, he followed the proper judicial process and issued a warning before taking any punitive measures.

An additional idea emerges from this analysis. Pharaoh reacts only after the second incident, declaring a death sentence on Moshe and forcing him into exile. Why? Because in the first scenario, Moshe was simply acting as a good Samaritan, defending an innocent person under attack. Pharaoh could tolerate this. However, in the second scenario, Moshe took on the role of a moral authority—intervening in a dispute between Jews, as if positioning himself as their leader. This, Pharaoh saw as a challenge to his rule, prompting his harsh response.

A Deeper Layer: Moshe’s Moral Awakening

There is an interesting progression in Moshe’s development. As an Egyptian prince aware of his ancestry, he begins to seek out his brethren and their suffering. His first reaction is righteous indignation—he jumps to the defense of a fellow Jew under attack. The next day, however, when he sees two Jews fighting, his distress deepens. The Torah emphasizes the timeline: “On the second day”—suggesting an evolution in Moshe’s awareness.

When Moshe exclaims, “Alas, the matter is known!” the simple reading suggests that he now realizes his killing of the Egyptian has become public knowledge, forcing him to flee. However, the Midrash (see Rashi 2:14) offers a more profound interpretation. Until now, Moshe wondered how his brethren could have deserved such suffering. But after witnessing their internal strife—symbolized by Dasan and Aviram’s quarrel—he exclaims, “Now I understand why they suffer.”

Moshe’s perspective shifts: Initially, he blames the Egyptians for the suffering of the Jews. But upon deeper observation, he recognizes that the Jewish people's own moral failings also play a role in their plight. And perhaps we can take this idea a step further—after condemning the Egyptians and then condemning his own brethren, Moshe himself is forced into exile. Why? Could it be that he, too, perceive a need for personal refinement? Before he could lead his people, he had to undergo his own transformation—a journey of self-discovery.

This may explain why Moshe’s exile is marked by a series of trials and growth experiences. Midrashim (Yalkut Shimoni 168) recounts his adventures, including his reign as a king in Ethiopia, his own exile, and various personal ordeals. Only after these experiences was he truly prepared to return—not just as a defender of his people, but as their leader and redeemer.

Translations Courtesy of Sefaria, except when, sometimes, I disagree with the translation

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Rabbi Simcha Feuerman, Rabbi Simcha Feuerman, LCSW-R, DHL is a psychotherapist who works with high conflict couples and families as well male sexual health. He can be reached via email at simchafeuerman@gmail.com