We all know the big picture: plagues, Moses, Pharaoh, the Red Sea. But what about the details, the little-known corners of the narrative? Let’s dive into one of the most dramatic moments: the slaying of the firstborn.
Imagine the tension. Moses, having warned Pharaoh of the impending doom, announces the death of the firstborn. Ginzberg, in his Legends of the Jews, tells us that these designated victims, realizing the gravity of the situation, pleaded with their fathers, "Let the Hebrews go, or we shall all die!" But Pharaoh, stubborn as ever, and his advisors, underestimated the power of the coming plague. They figured sacrificing a small percentage of the population was a reasonable price to pay to keep the Israelites enslaved. A grave miscalculation, indeed.
The firstborn, desperate, even turned on Pharaoh, demanding he release the Israelites. In response? Pharaoh, in his fury, ordered his servants to beat them for their audacity! Talk about adding insult to injury. Seeing that gentle persuasion was getting them nowhere, they tried to force the issue. A truly chaotic scene.
But here’s where it gets even more intense. The Divine decree, as we find in the tradition, wasn't just limited to the firstborn sons. It included firstborn daughters, and not just from current marriages, but from all previous unions. Given the, shall we say, "dissolute" lifestyles of some Egyptians, as the text delicately puts it, this meant that in some families, nearly every child could be considered a firstborn! Talk about a demographic nightmare.
And then, the hammer truly fell. According to the narrative, God decreed that death would smite the oldest member of every household, regardless of whether they were actually the firstborn. The Zohar tells us of the precise timing – the exact middle of the night, a moment so precise only God could discern it. Imagine the terror as God Himself, attended by legions of terrifying angels of destruction, descended upon Egypt. These weren't your fluffy cherubs, mind you. These were beings fashioned from hail and flames, their very gaze inducing terror.
The text tells us these angels were ready to unleash their full power, but God, in His wrath, held them back. He declared that He Himself would execute vengeance upon the enemies of Israel. A powerful statement about divine justice.
Some Egyptians, perhaps swayed by Moses' earlier warnings, tried to protect their firstborn by sending them to stay with their Hebrew neighbors, hoping the plague would bypass those homes. But in the morning, a horrifying discovery: the corpses of these Egyptian children lay beside the Israelites. A grim testament to the inescapable nature of the Divine decree.
It's said that that night, the Israelites prayed a specific prayer: "Cause us, O Lord our God, to lie down in peace, remove Satan from before us and from behind us, and guard our going out and our coming in unto life and unto peace." Because, according to the text, it was Satan who caused the frightful bloodshed among the Egyptians.
But the plague wasn't limited to Egyptian firstborn within Egypt. It struck Egyptian firstborn living abroad, and even the firstborn of other nationalities residing in Egypt. And, in a truly gruesome detail, even the long-dead firstborn weren't spared. The dogs dragged their corpses from their graves, a common Egyptian practice to bury the dead within their homes. Imagine that scene.
The Egyptians, understandably, mourned as if these deaths had just occurred. Even monuments and statues erected to honor the dead firstborn crumbled to dust.
And it didn't stop there. Slaves, even those imprisoned, weren't exempt. The text tells us that even the most downtrodden held animosity towards the Hebrews, and rejoiced in their persecution. So, they too, were punished. Female slaves grinding corn, who wished for the Israelites to be silenced, shared in the fate.
The text emphasizes that in punishing these aliens, God demonstrated his dominion over both the land and the false gods of the Egyptians. Had the slaves and captives been spared, they might have attributed their survival to their own deities. Therefore, all the Egyptian idols were destroyed that night – stone idols ground to dust, wooden idols rotting, metal idols melting away. This prevented the Egyptians from attributing their suffering to the wrath of their own gods.
Even the firstborn of the cattle were not spared, because the Egyptians worshipped animals. God wanted to make it absolutely clear that their gods were nothing but vanity.
So, what are we to make of this intense, almost unbelievable story? It's a reminder of the immense power attributed to the Divine in these ancient texts. It’s also a powerful, albeit brutal, statement about justice, both for the oppressed and against those who perpetuate oppression. It forces us to confront uncomfortable questions about divine retribution and the consequences of unchecked power. It's a story that continues to resonate, challenging us to consider the complexities of faith, justice, and the enduring struggle for freedom.