Rabbi José, in Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, paints a vivid picture – a stark contrast, really – of that momentous night. On one side, you have the Israelites. Picture them: finally free, celebrating with feasting, drinking wine, their voices raised in joyous praise to God. They were exuberant.
But the narrative doesn't shy away from the other side of the coin. The Egyptians. Imagine the scene in their homes. According to the text, there was "a great cry in Egypt; for there was not a house where there was not one dead" (Exodus 12:30). A plague had swept through, bringing unimaginable grief. It’s a somber reminder of the cost of freedom, isn't it? It's not just about the joy of liberation, but also the pain and suffering that accompanied it. A truly bitter soul.
The text then shifts to a fascinating insight into the mind of God. Why, you might ask, did the Exodus happen during the day? Why not sneak the Israelites out under the cover of darkness?
Here's the reasoning: The Holy One, blessed be He, thought, "If I bring forth the Israelites by night, they will say, He has done His deeds like a thief."
Think about that for a moment. It’s not just about freeing a people; it's about demonstrating power, and justice, openly and without shame. God didn't want anyone to think this was a covert operation, a sneaky escape. This was a divine act, meant to be witnessed. Therefore, the text tells us, God decided to bring them out "when the sun is in his zenith at midday." The most visible, undeniable moment.
So, the next time you're celebrating Passover, remember this detail. Remember the contrasting scenes of jubilation and mourning, and the deliberate choice to make the Exodus a public, undeniable event. It adds a whole new layer of meaning to the story, doesn’t it? It makes you consider the why behind the what. And maybe, just maybe, it makes you appreciate the freedom we celebrate even more.