Midrash Tehillim, a collection of homiletic interpretations on the Book of Psalms, dives right into that question when it grapples with the plagues visited upon Egypt. Specifically, Psalm 78.
The big question isn't whether the Egyptians deserved punishment, but how that punishment was meted out. Was it random? A cosmic tantrum? Not according to Rabbi Huna, quoting Rabbi Ivon. They suggest something far more precise. Every single blow, every single plague, was "measured and weighed." It wasn't just chaos unleashed. Each affliction was carefully calibrated to fit the crime.
Think about that for a moment. A carefully calibrated plague. We tend to imagine these things as vast, sweeping events, but the Midrash suggests a level of divine accounting that's almost…surgical. And even with this “surgical” approach, their souls were not spared from death. It was a serious moment.
But why did the Egyptians survive at all? Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi offers another layer to this, suggesting that each plague was a "specific punishment for a specific sin." They only survived because of God's protection, a buffer against total annihilation. It’s a fascinating idea: punishment tailored to the offense, but tempered by divine restraint.
Now, let's talk about the makkot b’khorot, the striking of the firstborn. Exodus 12:30 vividly describes the scene: "For there was no house where there was not someone dead." Chilling, right?
But who exactly were these firstborn? Rabbi Abba bar Acha expands the definition beyond just the firstborn son. He includes the firstborn daughter, the firstborn animal, the firstborn of everything. This paints a picture of comprehensive devastation. It wasn’t just about the male lineage; it was a blow to the very foundation of Egyptian society, their livestock, their families, everything.
And what about those families who didn't have a firstborn? Did they escape unscathed? Not quite. The Midrash suggests that the death of someone else in their household served as atonement. The verse "For there was no house where there was not someone dead" (Exodus 12:30) underscores this point. The plague of the firstborn was so complete that if a household lacked a literal firstborn, another life was taken to fulfill the decree.
This idea of collective suffering is tough to swallow. It raises uncomfortable questions about fairness and divine justice. But perhaps the Midrash is trying to tell us that the sins of a society have far-reaching consequences, affecting everyone, directly or indirectly.
So, what does all of this mean for us? Maybe it's a reminder that our actions, both individual and collective, have weight. They are measured. They have consequences. And while we may not face plagues of frogs or locusts, the choices we make ripple outwards, affecting the world around us in ways we may not even realize. And maybe, just maybe, there's a divine accounting at play, a cosmic balancing act that, while often mysterious, strives for a deeper, more nuanced form of justice.