Why we still tell this story

When we think about the Ten Plagues, it’s easy to file them away as ancient history; dramatic, supernatural events that happened to Pharaoh and the Egyptians thousands of years ago. Powerful stories, but far removed from modern life. Yet the Torah insists that these plagues were not only about Egypt. They were, in a very real way, about us.

Most classic explanations say the plagues had two goals. One was to force Pharaoh to acknowledge G-d and let the Jewish people go free. The other was to fulfill an earlier promise G-d made to Abraham: that the nation who enslaved his descendants would ultimately be judged. That already sounds complete. Egypt oppressed, Egypt paid the price.

But there’s more. There’s the angle that G-d brings consequences upon oppressive nations so that the Jewish people will hear and take it to heart. In other words, the plagues weren’t only a message to Egypt, they were a message to the Jews watching from the sidelines.

The Torah makes this even clearer. G-d tells Moses that all of this is happening so that “you will tell it to your children and grandchildren… and you will know that I am G-d.” The goal wasn’t just freedom. It was memory and awareness, passed from generation to generation.

That raises an obvious question. If Egypt deserved the plagues anyway, why add this extra purpose? Why emphasize that the events were also for the Jewish people?

The answer touches something fundamental about Jewish identity.

Judaism teaches that the Jewish people are not just another group moving through history while the world does its thing. The world itself was created with a purpose, and that purpose is tied to Jewish life and the moral vision the Torah brings into the world. That doesn’t mean Jews are “better” than others. It means we carry responsibility. We are meant to be conscious participants in history, not passive observers.

Seen this way, world events are never random background noise. Even when the Torah explains why something happens on a political or moral level in the world, it still has meaning for the Jewish people. It’s meant to wake us up, strengthen us, and remind us who we are.

This idea feels surprisingly modern. We live in an age of constant news alerts. It’s easy to feel small, anxious, or overwhelmed, like history is happening to us and there’s nothing we can do about it. The Torah offers a very different perspective: nothing that happens in the world is disconnected from the Jewish story.

The Midrash puts it bluntly: G-d says to the Jewish people, “My children, do not be afraid. Everything I do, I do for you.” That’s not a call to ignore reality or stop caring about the world. It’s a call to replace fear with confidence and paralysis with purpose.

This can translate into something very practical. When the world feels unstable, it’s a reminder to lean more deeply into Jewish identity, through learning, community, and traditions. Lighting Shabbat candles, showing up at a Jewish event, having meaningful Jewish conversations with our kids; these are not escapes from reality, they are ways of engaging with it more strongly.

The plagues teach us that Jewish history is not just something we remember once a year at the Seder. It’s an ongoing story, and we are active characters in it. When we tell these stories to our children, we’re not just sharing miracles from the past. We’re giving them confidence in who they are and pride in what they carry forward.

And that may be the most enduring message of the plagues. No matter what’s happening in the world, the Jewish people are not here by accident. Our presence matters. Our values matter. And our story is still unfolding.