The Plague of the Firstborn: Wonders, Chaos, and a Midnight Turning Point

Korban Pesach: The Turning Point

The Plague of the Firstborn was the final blow, and immediately after it, the Israelites were to leave Egypt. The time had come to fulfill the oath that Hashem had sworn to Abraham, to redeem his children. But the Israelites were not yet worthy; they had no single mitzvah in their merit. So before the Plague of the Firstborn, Hashem gave them two: the mitzvah of the Korban Pesach and the mitzvah of brit milah.

For the Korban Pesach, the lamb was chosen—an animal the Egyptians considered a deity. They worshiped the constellation Aries, and therefore would not slaughter small livestock or eat their meat. The Israelites, steeped in Egyptian society, had also clung to this idolatry. Even after witnessing great wonders in recent months, and seeing the emptiness of idol-worship firsthand, they still needed a powerful act of their own: to take Egypt’s “god” and slaughter it themselves, openly and fearlessly, before everyone.

A Bold Break From Idolatry

On the 10th of Nisan, four days before slaughter, the Israelites took a lamb and tied it to their bed, so the Egyptians would see their deity bound and humiliated in a Jewish home, bleating helplessly—while no one could save it. This would strengthen Israel’s faith even more. By Hashem’s command, they selected specifically an “elohim chazak,” meaning a flawless lamb—healthy, a one-year-old male, whole and strong—so the Egyptians couldn’t claim that Israel overcame their deity only because it was blemished, sick, broken, weak, old, or female.

Egyptian belief held that the lamb’s power peaked during Aries—i.e., in Nisan. So the Israelites took the lamb specifically in Nisan, and specifically in the middle of the month—on the 14th of Nisan—when Aries was at the height of its brilliance, completeness, and might. In the afternoon, at a busy hour with many people in the streets, the Israelites prepared the lamb for slaughter in full view. The Egyptians wanted to stone them, but Hashem did not allow even a peep of protest. And so that everyone would clearly know a lamb had been slaughtered here, Hashem commanded the Israelites to smear the lamb’s blood on the outside of their doorways—on the lintel and the two doorposts.

Roasting the Lamb and Eating It

Then they roasted the lamb over fire. They did not boil it or even roast it in a vessel, to draw out the strongest possible aroma. The scent spread throughout the entire land of Egypt—to a distance of 1,600 km! The Egyptians saw Israel roasting their deity, smelled the delicious aroma, and their hearts melted. Their bellies had been rumbling with hunger since the Locust Plague, and now the scent of roasted meat filled their noses! Saliva ran from their mouths with desire to taste it too, and some Egyptians even dared to ask the Jews for a piece of meat (this was a grave offense in Egypt!). But Hashem said: "Any foreigner shall not eat of it." You invited the Israelites to your feasts to serve you, and you wouldn’t let them taste a thing even when they were hungry—now feel the "pleasure" of watching and smelling without tasting!

To make it unmistakable that it was a lamb, the Israelites roasted it whole, with its head and legs. During the meal they took care not to break a bone, and when they were done, they discarded the bones intact so the Egyptians would see they were the very bones of their deity. Again and again, the Israelites proved the absolute emptiness of idolatry.

The Mitzvah of Brit Milah

In the days leading up to the Korban Pesach, the Israelites circumcised themselves. Many, however, were afraid to do it. What did Hashem do? He told Moses to prepare the Korban Pesach, and Hashem attached to it the fragrances of Gan Eden, and the scent spread throughout all Egypt. All Israel gathered around Moses and begged: Please, let us eat from your Pesach. He told them: If you are not circumcised, you do not eat—because the uncircumcised are forbidden to eat from the Korban Pesach. Immediately, everyone agreed to be circumcised. Moses circumcised, Aharon performed the priah, and Joshua bin Nun performed the suction. In just a few hours, the entire nation was circumcised, and they placed the two bloods on their doorframes. And Hashem passed by, kissed each one, and blessed him.

Striking Egypt’s Firstborn

Meanwhile among Egypt’s populace: word spread about Moses’ warning after the Plague of Darkness—that very soon every Egyptian firstborn would die. Some Egyptians mocked the warning, but many were terrified and searched for ways to save their firstborns. What could they do? Some decided to send their firstborns to sleep in Israelite homes, hoping that would spare them. Others still trusted their idols and placed their firstborns in the idol’s shrine for protection. Others smuggled their firstborns beyond Egypt’s borders.

Overall, though, the mood in Egypt remained fairly relaxed. Only the firstborns were truly panicked. They went to their fathers and said: Everything Moses warned would happen—did happen. Now he says, "Every firstborn in the land of Egypt will die." Let’s send the Hebrews out, or else we will die. Their fathers replied: We have ten sons; let one die, but we will not release these Hebrews! The firstborns said: Let’s go to Pharaoh—he’s a firstborn too. Maybe he’ll have pity on his own life and finally release the Israelites. They went to Pharaoh and pleaded with him to quickly send the Israelites out. Pharaoh grew furious at their "audacity" and immediately ordered their shins smashed. He said: Even if I die, I will not free Israel! At once, the terrified and enraged firstborns rose up and went to war against their own fathers—and killed 600,000 men!

Every Firstborn Dies!!!

On the night of the 15th of Nisan, while the Israelites joyfully brought their Korban Pesach at home and Egypt’s firstborns stood on the brink of doom, Pharaoh lay down to sleep—calmly. Even though he himself was a firstborn, and even though he had firstborn sons, he managed to drift off. In the streets, fierce battles raged between firstborns and their fathers. At precisely midnight, the war’s clamor ended; the firstborns’ worst fear came true: they died. The battle cries turned into screams of devastation. Hearing the terrible shrieks erupting from every direction, Pharaoh leapt from his bed in panic and cried a great, bitter cry—after all, he too was a firstborn!!! What would become of him??

The firstborns were struck by Hashem Himself, not by an angel—showing Hashem’s great love for Israel. Along with Him came 900,000,000 destructive angels, who also struck the rest of the Egyptians and their animals.

The scale of the plague was beyond anything imagined. Far more died than anyone expected. The Egyptians had assumed there would be at most one death per household, but in reality, it reached much greater proportions—five or even ten dead in a single home. In addition to firstborns by the mother, firstborns by the father also died (Egyptian women often had children out of wedlock, so there were many firstborns). And in any home without a firstborn, the eldest died. Many prominent people perished as well. All the firstborns sleeping in Israelite homes died, and those who had fled Egypt died too, and of course those sleeping in their idol’s shrine. Only two firstborns were spared: Pharaoh—so he could witness Egypt’s end at the splitting of the sea—and his daughter Bitya—saved by Moses’ prayer.

A Night of Joy for Israel, A Night of Screams for Their Enemies!

Picture it: An Egyptian, shocked, finds that more than one person in his home has died—males and females alike. Even his pregnant wife (whose fetus, unbeknownst to him, was a firstborn) miscarried, and since permission had been given to the Destroyer to destroy, the woman herself died too. What is this? he wonders in bitter anguish. Why? This must be a mistake! Not everyone who died was a firstborn (so he thinks)!! In the midst of his sobbing and wailing, he suddenly remembers: his true firstborn is actually sleeping in an Israelite home. He rushes there, clinging to the hope that maybe his son is still alive. As he draws nearer, he hears lively singing. What are they celebrating? Who could be rejoicing while he is in mourning and terror?? Then it hits him: the detested Israelites are finishing their feast on his deity—the lamb they just slaughtered and roasted. Now they’re celebrating in his hour of grief! Rubbing salt in his wounds and rejoicing at his misfortune! He grinds his teeth and bangs on the door. No response—they’re immersed in their joy and song and refuse to stop. He pounds even harder, still no answer. He bursts in without permission. Tense, he demands of the family: "Where is my son??" When no one answers, he hurries into the bedroom. Disaster! His firstborn lies dead on the bed. He’s utterly crushed. Meanwhile, the Israelite firstborn, on the adjacent bed, sleeps peacefully—healthy and whole. Tears streaming down his face, the Egyptian lifts his dead son in trembling arms and staggers home shattered, enraged, and in mourning.

The Death of the Idols

The Egyptian mourns his firstborn, his other children, his wife, and his father—who was also a firstborn. But his grief is doubled. It’s not only the son’s death; it’s also the death of the idol. The firstborn was one of Egypt’s idols. When a firstborn died, they buried him inside the home so his "influence" would remain. Some Egyptians carved their firstborn’s likeness into the house walls. During the Plague of the Firstborn, those images cracked and wore away, crumbling before their eyes. It was as painful to them as burying those firstborns anew. Hashem sent dogs to dig even into the graves of the long-dead firstborns and pull out their bones. The dogs paraded the bones in disgrace before all Egypt, reigniting the sorrow. That night, the Egyptians wept for generations of firstborns!!

Broken and crushed, the Egyptian wants to turn to his gods—but to whom can he turn? The firstborns lie dead before him. The Nile had failed him long ago. The ram had proven weak—roasted and eaten by Israelites just hours before. In his desperation he turns to his gold and silver idols—alas, they had melted. The stone idols had eroded. The wooden ones rotted and were worm-eaten. These are gods!! Thus, that very night, all of Egypt’s idols perished—except for one, named Baal Tzafon, left standing to mislead them.

Pharaoh in Pajamas, in the Middle of the Night

Meanwhile, Pharaoh was in his palace, sunk in heavy mourning for his firstborn—the heir apparent—and for the other members of his family who had died. He was seized with mortal fear, knowing that he himself was a firstborn. Only now did he realize the terrible mistake of not sending the Israelites away a year earlier, before the plagues began. The dread that he might die at any moment forced him to go in person to find Moses. That night his voice was heard all the way to the land of Goshen, in the heart of Egypt. Pharaoh pleaded, in a sorrowful voice for his life: "Rise up, go out from among my people." Once you were Pharaoh’s slaves; from now on, you are servants of Hashem.

While he still had breath, he pushed on to Goshen. The joyful atmosphere there didn’t touch him at all. Where did Moses even live? He had no idea; he’d never visited his home. Terrified, he knocked on the first door he came to, but the loud celebration inside drowned out his knocking. Even after he identified himself as Pharaoh—King of Egypt—still no one came out to honor him! (For the King of Kings had commanded them not to step outside until morning.) When he finally got a response, they laughed at him and sent him from address to address, misleading him.

Live and See

After a grueling search, he found Moses and fell at his feet. Moses said to him: What do you want? Who comes to whom—do you come to me, or I to you?! Pharaoh answered: Please, rise up and go out from among my people—men and children—go serve Hashem as you said. Everything as you said, not as I said. Take your flocks too, and I will also give offerings and burnt-offerings, as you spoke. Pharaoh didn’t just beg; he issued a royal decree: Leave immediately. I do not permit you to remain among my people. Do not delay here under any circumstance. Moses replied: Are we thieves, that we should sneak off at night?! Hashem commanded us not to go out tonight, for He wants to take us out openly, by day! But Pharaoh—do not worry. You will not die tonight. Hashem has not finished punishing Egypt; you will live to see Egypt’s downfall, completely.

Pharaoh returned to his palace as he came—somewhat calmer because of Moses’ assurance that he would not die that night, yet tense about what the future would bring. That night after midnight, no one in Egypt slept. All night long the Israelites ate, drank wine, rejoiced, and praised Hashem in a mighty voice—while the Egyptians cried out in bitter agony over the catastrophe that had struck them.