"A Night of Watching"
Israelis stood vigil in safe rooms, as Iran's 300 Angels of Death passed over. It was a remake of Exodus 12, with drones.
Exodus 12:42
Last Saturday night, Israelis, diaspora Jews and indeed, the entire world, came as close as one could come to duplicating that scene described in Exodus 12:42, a "night of watching for all the generations," when the Destroyer passed over the houses of Israelites, who were saved from the devastation of the tenth plague.
In Exodus 12, the night of the tenth plague is also called "Layl Shimurim hu l'Adonai" "A night of watching for God." The commentator Rashi sees "Shimurim" as connoting "anticipation," implying that God had been looking forward to this night for centuries, the chance finally to fulfill the Covenant of Redemption made with Abraham. Or it can mean "protection," for on this night God protected Israel from the most terrible of plagues.
This "Night of Watching" was God's most anxious moment since that Night of Resting following the sixth day of creation, when God looked around and saw that it was very good. Only then could God sit back and rest from Creation.
God has yet to rest from the Exodus.
On this original Night of Watching, the sacred mix of centuries of slavery and a dizzying, sudden freedom, seasoned by a dash of lamb's blood on the door and matzah in the oven, was either going to turn out to be the most delicious concoction imaginable or a rancid, unholy mess.
Was Israel ready for freedom? Would they make it through the Wilderness? Could they ever get beyond their petty complaints or would their fear ultimately engulf them? Which enemy would pose the greatest threat, Amalek or self-doubt? That's what was keeping God awake on that long Night of Watching.
And at each Seder we ask similar questions: Is this family ready to go out and bring Torah into the world? Have they internalized the lessons we've been feeding them since infancy? Do they love Israel? Are they willing to stand up for themselves as Jews? Has our people risen to this generation's unprecedented opportunities to bring holiness to the world? These are questions that not even the wise child could answer.
Last Saturday night was also a Night of Watching...watching and waiting for the Iranian Destroyer to arrive. Would the missiles and drones pass-over the homes of Israelis, or would they kill all the first born - and second born too? Would the forces of peace and order from the US, Europe, Jordan, and the Gulf coalesce to save the innocent lives of millions and the fragile strands of hope? Could this portend athe possibility of a regional peace? Would Israel's friendly neighbors prove themselves worthy of sharing a future together? Will there even be a future?
Without being overly dramatic, Israel teetered on the edge of devastation last weekend. Had there been no Iron Dome, David’s Sling or the Arrow, Dayenu! But they developed all three, and instead of being devastated, Israel emerged strategically strengthened. If even one of those Iranian Arrows of Death had made it through in a place like Jerusalem - and several were shot down over Jerusalem - the devastation would have been incalculable, for Jews, Muslims and Christians alike.
At first the IDF estimated that about a hundred projectiles were headed their way. Then it became 200. And then, when the smoke cleared, it was 300. The rabbis loved to use mathematics to amplify the number of plagues inflicted upon Egypt. The Haggadah says that each of the ten plagues was actually valued at four plagues, making a total of 60. Rabbi Akiva said that each of those 60 plagues was worth five. Do the math and you get 300. Rabbi Eliezer, staying on the conservative side, said 240.
By the time the Night of Watching had turned to dawn, 300 missiles or drones were fired, and somehow, 99 percent were intercepted. Even the blood on the doorposts of Goshen could not have been more protective than Israel’s anti-missile defenses.
On this 2024 Night of Watching, the tenth plague was defeated resoundingly.
Many have speculated over the centuries as to how it must have felt for our ancestors to be sitting in their bloody-doorpost smeared "safe rooms" while the screams of their former tormentors could be heard nearby. There's a midrash describing how some Egyptians mothers begged the Israelites for sanctuary for their children in the Israelites’ protected homes, and the kindhearted Israelites granted sanctuary to those who had enslaved them for 400 years, but the Egyptian firstborn died anyway.
Which brings up all kinds of difficult questions for us, such as why did Bedouin child - a seven year old, who was the only one to be injured in the Iranian attack - not have a shelter to run to?
For those of us here in America, it is really impossible to understand what Israelis went through over the past week and past six months, even if the Iranian attack was not nearly as destructive as it could have been. It was still emotionally devastating. What was most devastating, just as in the Exodus, was the waiting. The watching and waiting. While the attack was going on, no one knew how things would turn out, only that hundreds of drones and missiles were due to arrive. All people could do was brace for impact - and draw from the unlimited Jewish capacity for gallows humor.
The meme below was culled from Facebook by Times of Israel.
The whole situation was so absurd, waiting for the missiles to arrive and not wondering what surprises the drones would be bringing. This meme, below, which I saw on X (Twitter), speculated that the drones would be bringing not death and destruction, but a light show bearing the message, "Rak Bibi," "Only Bibi," an old campaign refrain now turned into a finger of blame by protesters,
It reminds me of a similar ironic twist imagined by cartoonist Paul Szep after John Dean's Watergate testimony in 1974:
Some of the differences felt among Jews right now are deep, but most are superficial and reactive. Everyone is acting out of a unique form of PTSD catalyzed from last Saturday's Night of Watching, and previously synthesized from October 7, the Holocaust, centuries of antisemitism and three years of Covid - a mixture far more combustible than anything Iran could stuff into their warheads.
What Jews share is far more significant than what divides us: Everyone wants peace, everyone wants a secure Jewish state, most (except for the extremists) want a dignified, peaceful life for the Palestinians and a high degree of coexistence.
And everyone, left, right and center, understands that Bibi must go. He may not be totally to blame for October 7 and the attack by Iran, but he is a big part of it, and the only one who refuses to take responsibility. His departure wouldn't solve all the problems overnight - far from it - but it would go a long way toward rebuilding trust: between Israel and the US, Israeli Jews and the diaspora, Israel and her neighbors (who proved their loyalty last Saturday night;Â who would have imagined Jordan shooting down missiles headed for Israel?!) and among Israelis themselves.
Rak Bibi is the answer to so many questions that we might want to insert it into the Seder right after "Mah Nishtanah."
Why is this night different from all other nights?
Because the entire Jewish people, minus a few extremists, are united behind their disdain for the guy who drove Israel off a cliff, then blamed the people sitting in the passenger seat.
JFK said famously after the Bay of Pigs, "Victory has a thousand fathers, but defeat is an orphan." Bibi says simply of October 7, "No one woke me up."
Still, Rak Bibi is not the quick fix answer that it's cracked up to be. if you want to forge some unity at your Seder next week "Rak Bibi" is too facile, too glib, a sugar high. It's become too easy for Israel's critics to say, "It's not the Israeli people I hate, it's Bibi." For in fact, while the majority of the Israeli people also despise their leader, by and large, they still approve policies that many in the diaspora oppose.
No doubt, Israel will be much better off when elections are planned and presumably a new P.M. emerges with a more moderate government.
Meanwhile, we prepare for another Night of Watching. And another. And another after that. We prepare to leave Egypt once again, but we have no idea what awaits us in the Promised Land or on the way.
But to this point we’ve now survived two Nights of Watching, many centuries apart, and each could have been cataclysmic.
And for that we say, Dayenu!