One of the most tender details in the Exodus is hidden in Targum Pseudo-Jonathan on Exodus 12:34. As Israel fled Mizraim, the people carried their unleavened dough on their heads. The remnants of the paschal cakes and the bitter herbs were bound up in their clothing and slung over their shoulders.
Heads and shoulders. That is a portrait of people who had to grab whatever they could and run. The dough did not have time to rise. There was no bag to put it in. So they pressed the unbaked loaves against their scalps and trusted their body heat to keep them from spoiling until the sun could finish the baking later in the day.
The rabbis read this verse with real affection. The matzah that became central to Passover for the next three thousand years was first baked on the heads of fleeing slaves. Every generation that eats matzah at the seder is, in a way, carrying something back to that morning — a food that was never supposed to rise, made by a people in the middle of a hurried deliverance.
The bitter herbs went with them, too. That is a poignant image. They did not leave the bitterness behind; they took it along. The bitter herbs of the first Pesach became part of Israel's memory, carried over the shoulder out of slavery. The rabbis saw in that the ethics of a liberated people. You do not forget what slavery tasted like. You pack some of it into your bundle and take it forward.
Takeaway: Israel left Egypt carrying half-baked bread on their heads and bitter herbs on their backs. Nothing about the Exodus was clean. Everything about it was memorable.