At the very onset of these reported journeys, the Torah diverts from the mere reference to the locations we traveled to and depicts a historical detail.  

They journeyed from Rameses in the first month, on the fifteenth day of the first month — on the day following the pesach-offering — the children of Israel went forth ביד רמה — with an upraised hand, before the eyes of all Egypt.

And the Egyptians were busy burying because the Lord had struck down their firstborn and had wrought vengeance against their deities. (במדבר לג ג-ד)

Why is this incident so significant among the many events that transpired at each of these places, that it is specifically mentioned?

A simple reading of these two verses seem to imply that we were only able to leave defiantly with this victorious display of our independence only because the Egyptians were preoccupied with grief and mourning over the death of the firstborn and the defeat of their idols.

Rashi seems to indicate this by his adding a comment on the words in the verse that depicts 'the Egyptians were busy burying': טרוד באבלם — they were occupied with their mourning.

This would diminish the import of their 'raised hand' by intimating that if not for their distraction the Egyptians would have stopped them.

Additionally, the verse explicitly states, 'So the Egyptians took hold of the people to hasten to send them out of the land, for they said, "We are all dying."'  (שמות יב לג)

Rav S.R. Hirsch, however, sees in this a moment in time that must be branded into our psyche as the image we must live and breathe in all our expeditions in Galus and its associated challenges.

This contrast belongs essentially to the thought which the redemption from Egypt is to be kept for all time as a fundamental idea for us. The rays of the morning sun showed the hordes of the slaves raised to freedom and the master race downcast and bewailing the loss of their most precious and dearest treasured firstborn, showed the one and same hand of G-d punishing and delivering at the same time. Both together, the fear of deserved judgment and the confidence of deserved help filling the human breast is to be forever the fundamental trait of Jewish consciousness of G-d…

I believe it goes even deeper than that.

Rav Shlomo Esulin, who passed away a year and a half ago, and had endured a long and painful illness succumbing to it at the age of fifty-seven, was a giant in Torah — both revealed and hidden; taught Torah quietly to thousands; was alleged to have been one of the thirty-six hidden righteous in every generation, draws a fascinating historical parallel to the contrast described here at the Exodus.

In the beginning of the Book of Shmuel it tells of a war the Jews waged against the פלשתים — Philistines. The Jews having lost the first battle suggested bringing out the ארון א-להים — Ark of the Lord to the battlefield, hoping it would bring them victory. In this battle not only were they defeated but the two sons of Eli the Kohen Gadol died, thirty-thousand soldiers fell, and the Ark was captured. 

When a member of the tribe of Binyamin — some suggest Shaul — came to inform Eli of the calamity, he first broke the news to him softly, first telling Eli of our troops fleeing, then informing Eli of the loss of thirty-thousand fighters, only after did he reveal the more difficult loss of his own two sons, and lastly the most grievous tragedy of the capturing of the Ark. Despite his sitting on a chair while bearing this terrible news, he didn't fall off his chair upon hearing of the deaths of his children, it was only when he heard about the capture of the Ark of the Lord, that he fell in shock, breaking his neck and dying.

Similarly, when his pregnant daughter-in-law was confronted with all this terrible news, she went into labor, gave birth to a son and named him אי כבוד — 'there is no more honor', due to the terrible misfortunes that had befallen the nation due to the sins.

She reiterates in her last breath before expiring, "Glory has been exiled from Israel, for the Ark of God has been taken", emphasizing it was not the tragic loss of her husband that she was bemoaning, but more significantly the glory of G-d that has been diminished, with the capture of the Ark.

For a Jew the greatest tragedy is when the honor of G-d is diminished. It is never about our personal losses, painful though they are, because in the greater picture everything has a plan and a purpose, directed from upon high for our benefit. What we can't absorb is the minimization of G-d's glory in the world.

In stark contrast with this awareness, is the portrayal of the Egyptians who place their faith in their gods, ostensibly clinging to their beliefs even in the face of the onslaught of plagues. Yet in the moment they lose their cherished 'firstborns', they become so wrapped up in their grief — despite their metal idols melting and the wooden ones rotting, as the Torah reports how G-d 'wrought vengeance against their deities'— they abandon their coveted divinities, neglecting their 'honor'. (קונטרס מעין גנים מסעי)

The Jewish nation, despite their having lost four-fifths of the male population shortly before their exodus from Egypt during the plague of Darkness, raise their hands triumphantly in regaling in the restoration of G-d's honor in this world, which eclipses all loss.

May I suggest that Rashi's assertion that they were טרוד באבלם — preoccupied by their grief, is not merely a portrayal of the exacting measure of Divine judgment, but rather a presentation of their shallowness, for all they are interested in is their pursuit of their personal desires and needs, and the moment it is taken away they can't perceive a higher reality that prods one to improve.

Their entire existence consists of wanting, and mourning when their expectations and needs are not met. Deities are just powers utilized to provide one's desires. When they falter, down the drain they go.

The hallmark of our greatness is to forge on despite the losses, rising above of our needs in committing to the mission to raise our hands with pride, always and in all circumstances restoring the Honor of Heaven.

באהבה,

צבי יהודה טייכמאן