Emerging from the Stoic Desert Wind

A Passover Exodus

The air hung heavy with the oppressive silence of a people yearning for freedom. In the ramshackle dwellings of Goshen, shadows danced on mud-brick walls cast by flickering oil lamps. Miriam, her voice laced with defiance, hummed an ancient Hebrew melody, a song of resilience passed down through generations. Her brother, Aaron, a flicker of worry in his eyes, watched their younger sibling, Moses, pace restlessly.

Tonight was different. Tonight, the whispers carried on the desert wind spoke of a coming change, a divinely ordained act of liberation. The tenth plague, a whispered prophecy from the enigmatic Moses, loomed large. Pharaoh’s heart, hardened by arrogance, had remained unmoved by the previous nine demonstrations of God’s power.

But Moses, imbued with an unshakeable faith, had instructed each Israelite family to prepare a spotless lamb — a symbol of life. The lamb was to be sacrificed, its blood smeared on the doorposts — a desperate plea for recognition, a plea for God to “pass over” their dwellings.

As the desert moon climbed higher, casting an ethereal glow on the dusty landscape, a bloodcurdling wail pierced the night. Death descended upon Egypt, a silent reaper leaving a trail of devastation in its wake. In every Egyptian household, the eldest son, the firstborn…