We all know the story of the Exodus, the Israelites' escape from slavery in Egypt. But the tenth plague, the slaying of the firstborn, wasn't just a targeted strike, a surgical removal of Egypt's future. It was, according to some traditions, a far more sweeping and unsettling event.

Imagine the scene. It’s not just Egyptian firstborn who are struck down. The Legends of the Jews, as retold by Ginzberg, paints a picture of utter devastation that goes beyond the borders of Egypt itself. Firstborn sons of other nationalities residing in Egypt? Gone. Even those Egyptian firstborn who happened to be traveling abroad? Not spared.

But here's where it gets truly chilling. According to this telling, the plague even reached into the realm of the dead. The long-deceased firstborn weren't safe either. It’s said that dogs unearthed their corpses from their graves – because, you see, the Egyptians often buried their dead within their homes. Can you imagine the horror, the fresh grief erupting anew at this appalling sight?

The monuments, the statues erected to honor the deceased firstborn, were reduced to dust. Dust! Scattered and lost to the wind. It's a powerful image of complete and utter obliteration.

And it didn’t stop there. The slaves of Egypt, even "the first-born of the captive that was in the dungeon," were made to share the Egyptians' fate. Why? Because, as the tradition explains, no one was so downtrodden that they didn't harbor hatred for the Hebrews.

The female slaves, grinding corn between millstones, would say, "We do not regret our servitude, if only the Israelites are gagged, too." Their hatred, born of their own suffering, made them complicit. And in this telling, no one who rejoiced in the Israelites' persecution was spared the consequences. It seems the net of justice was cast wide and deep.

So, what are we to make of this expanded version of the tenth plague? Is it a literal account? Probably not. But as we see so often in Jewish tradition, the stories layer meaning upon meaning. This account underscores the universality of justice. It's a reminder that hatred and complicity, even in the hearts of the seemingly powerless, have consequences. It's a sobering thought, isn't it? That even those on the lowest rungs of the ladder can be held accountable for the suffering they inflict or condone.