What is going on? Who are they screaming at?

In describing the final strike against Pharaoh — the Plague of the Firstborn, the Torah states: There shall be a צעקה גדולה — a great outcry in the entire land of Egypt, such as there has never been and such that will never be again. (שמות יא ו)

What is so significant about their screaming like never before or after? Isn’t the main thrust of this plague that throughout the entire land of Egypt “there was not a house that where there was no corpse”? Wasn’t that enough trauma for them to seal the deal and gain their release?

The Midrash HaGadol describes a fascinating encounter between an old Egyptian woman and Moshe on the night of the Plague of the Firstborn.

At the moment Moshe prophesied that there would be a ‘great outcry’ that night, an elderly woman confronted him saying, “You are a false prophet! Can a woman who has no father, mother, brother nor sister, daughter nor son, possibly cry out to anyone? Who is left for me to cry to?” Moshe responded by swearing to her, “Your cries will indeed precede all the others!”

It was reported that this woman had an image of her son sculpted out of dough, that after she finished eating and drinking each day she would stand up and dance in front of it. That night dogs came by and snatched the statue, leaving her screaming and crying hysterically. This woman’s cry was the fulfillment of Moshe’s prophecy that there never was such a cry as on that fatal night, neither before nor after.

One of the most basic elements of human nature — one that is critical to enduring life and all its challenges, remaining intact emotionally — is the need for connection.

Loneliness can kill. It is not just about the lack of social connection — that is so indispensable to the fueling of our personal hopes and ambitions — that in the absence of it we lose our will to live and thrive. More profoundly it is the inability to be in touch with ourselves, appreciative of who we are and the qualities and goodness we possess, that pushes us off the cliff, screaming for connection.

In order to fully understand this plague, we must appreciate the hierarchy within Egyptian civilization.

Egyptian society was ruled by primogeniture. The firstborn had absolute authority and power within the family unit. Pharaoh was the ‘first’ amongst firstborns. It was from his birthright that he exercised his might.

The attack against the firstborn was therefore a powerful polemic against the entire culture of Egypt. The eldest ruled the roost. Slavery was part of the pyramid and so important to the Egyptians. This gave the lower classes someone else to control and dominate.

It wasn’t just a system of governing and maintaining control that was at stake. The Egyptians believed their self-worth came by being subservient and dependent on those above them, and thus valued by their ‘connection’ to them.

The family unit looked towards the firstborn not only as their provider but as the one who would give them a sense of purpose in the world in viewing them as their connection towards preserving their own worthiness.

When we face trauma, our instinct is to scream out to others for help. But when no one has anyone to scream out to, like the old Egyptian woman, who was left with no connection in the world other than a soothing memory that artificially numbed her pain, she challenged Moshe about the veracity of his prophecy.

She soon discovered that the moment her drug of nostalgia disappeared, she screamed out instinctively in an unparalleled cry, out of the new reality of her painful loneliness.

The entire Egyptian people discovered their delusion of connection was just that, a house of cards collapsing in a sad game of ‘solitaire’.

The true source that motivates us for connection, whether we realize it or not, is a search for connection to the Creator of the world who beckons us to a world where no one is ever alone.

The firstborn in Jewish tradition is not a role of privilege but of responsibility, to represent that exquisite connection to eternity that awaits each one of us if we only seek G-d out. As G-d crowns us with the inspiring appellation — My Firstborn is Israel.

The uniqueness in their screaming was the discovery that even in the absence of anyone to heed our cries, we shout out instinctively for the ultimate connection. For those who refuse to accept that notion, must live with that unmatched pain of trauma.

One can find oneself if one is willing to seek out a G-d who never forsakes us and is always there.

There is a tradition that the Ten Plagues correspond to the Ten Commandments at Mount Sinai.

The final Plague of the Firstborn is paired to the first of the commandments — I am Hashem, your G-d, Who has taken you out of the land of Egypt.

It is also paired with the first of the Ten Utterances the world was created with — In the beginning of G-d’s creating the heavens and the earth.

That is where it all begins and continues for eternity. We all seek ‘connection’.

When it is put into proper perspective then each one of us can hope, strive, and live happily.

The world is in turmoil. All the cards they hoped would give them a winning hand, have fallen. But people are screaming because all the addictions that promised them happiness have been found to be merely painkillers. But they are doomed to crying over the trauma of painful loneliness, that will never be cured without connecting to the source of all life.

May we each take the lead in crying out earnestly to Hashem, begging Him to permit us to feel His constant embrace, elevating us out of the painful loneliness we often sense.

באהבה,

צבי יהודה טייכמאן