שמות, פרק י״א, פסוק ו׳

The Plague of the Firstborn brings an unprecedented tragedy that shakes all of Egypt, shattering a century of silence. For a hundred years, the Egyptians ignored the murder of the Hebrew children, but now a massive cry erupts from every single home [רש ר הירש, ביאור שטיינזלץ, בכור שור]. The uniqueness of this outcry stems from how it pierces the quiet of a peaceful night. Unlike the screams that naturally arise during a military siege or an enemy invasion, this is a sudden disaster striking a completely tranquil city [ספורנו, הכתב והקבלה]. Beyond the sheer agony of loss, this great wailing also carries the sound of an uprising, expressing a sudden rebellion by the Egyptian people against Pharaoh [מלבי״ם].

Beneath the surface of this massive outcry, the disaster carries profound layers of devastation. The ruin sweeping through the land is all-encompassing, driven by unseen forces of destruction and death [אבן עזרא], with the sheer volume of the wailing echoing endlessly [צרור המור]. The primary approach among commentators, however, shifts the focus from the cry itself to the specific night of the plague. The historical weight of the tragedy is tied directly to this darkness. While history has certainly seen other nights filled with plagues and screaming, a night quite like this one had never occurred before and will never happen again [שד״ל, הכתב והקבלה, ביאור יש״ר, חזקוני, בעלי ברית אברם, קיצור בעל הטורים]. Another perspective suggests that the disaster strikes with a dual nature. The Egyptians do not merely suffer a sudden death; they are hit by a terrifying combination of a standard plague and a strange, disfiguring disease that ruins their physical appearance [העמק דבר].

Set against the backdrop of this deafening Egyptian agony is a sharp, miraculous contrast within the Israelite camp. The late hours of the night, particularly when the angel of death is roaming, are typically a time when dogs howl and cry out in fear. Yet, the dogs in Egypt completely alter their natural instincts and remain entirely silent, ensuring that no anxiety or dread is stirred among the Israelites. Because they suppress their natural urges, these animals earn a unique reward from God, which is why the Torah later commands that torn meat be thrown to the dogs [שפתי כהן, צרור המור].