The angel moves through Egypt at midnight.

Every firstborn in Egypt dies. From the firstborn of Pharaoh on his throne to the firstborn of the prisoner in the dungeon. From the firstborn of the cattle in the fields. A cry rises across Egypt so total, so unanimous, that the text says there was not a house where there was not one dead.

And Israel, blood on their doorposts, eats the Passover meal inside their houses, sandals on their feet, staff in hand, ready to move, while the world outside comes apart.

This is the hardest moment in Exodus to read without flinching. It deserves full engagement, with nothing softened for comfort.