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Exodus 10:1-13:16

Jeremiah 46:13-28

by Rabbi Stephen Pearce

"I have walked with people whose eyes are full of light but who see nothing in sea or sky, nothing in city streets, nothing in books. It were far better to sail forever in the night of blindness with sense and feeling and mind, than to be content with the mere act of seeing. The only lightless dark is the night of darkness in ignorance and insensibility."

Though she lived in a dark, silent world, Helen Keller, author of these lines, lived in a world full of light. Keller understood the difference between physical and psychological blindness and deafness, a paradox that suggests that some people with intact senses inhabit in a world of perpetual darkness and unending silence while others whose senses are lacking reside in a world of brilliant color and dazzling music. Those self-absorbed individuals afflicted with midnight in their souls who, seeing only themselves, cannot find a way out of their isolation and solitude.

In "Darkness Visible," author William Styron discusses his difficulty in shaking off the darkness that enveloped his life — a darkness he describes as so bleak that it could be seen, a palpable darkness of "immense and aching solitude."

Like Styron and others who have struggled with isolation and gloom, the Egyptians, central protagonists in Bo, this week's Torah portion, were plagued by a darkness so thick that "they saw not one another (Exodus 10:33)." It was a darkness that prevented them from seeing their own humanity and that of others, a "darkness of ignorance and insensibility" that empowered them to be taskmasters who could beat slaves, kill male Israelite children and feel no remorse. The Egyptians suffered from a plague of darkness, a blackness of heart and a gloominess of mind. It forced them to retreat into themselves where they could not see the pain of others; they saw only themselves.

The darkness that prevented the ancient Egyptians from seeing their own self-absorbed state of heartlessness and brutality afflicts people in every age. But there is a way out, as this well-known folktale demonstrates:

"A grief-stricken mother went to a holy man to ask for prayers and incantations to bring her dead son back to life. He told her to fetch a mustard seed from a home that has never known sorrow. He said, 'We will use it to drive the sorrow out of your life.'

"She came to a beautiful mansion, knocked on the door and asked the woman who answered the door if this were a home that had never known sorrow. The resident of the home told her that she had come to the wrong house and began to describe the series of tragedies that had befallen her.

"The mourner said to herself, 'Who is better able to help this poor, bereft woman than I who have had a misfortune of my own?' She stayed to comfort her and then went on to other places, only to find that each home had its own sadness and misfortune. The woman became so involved in helping others deal with their grief that she would forget about her own grief for long periods of time. So much so, that she forgot about her own quest for the magical mustard seed that had, indeed, driven sorrow out of her life."

In contrast to the Egyptians trapped in darkness, the biblical text reminds the reader that at the same time that they were unable to see the light of day, "all the people Israel had light in all their dwellings" (Exodus 10:22-23). How could the Israelites bask in brilliant light when Egypt was pitch black? The Israelites refused to be surrounded by darkness. They did not allow darkness to overcome them; they followed the command to establish a ner tamid, an eternal light (Exodus 27:20), which enabled them to be a source of light to themselves and to others. Unlike the Egyptians, they were not focused only on themselves. They could see the faces of their neighbors; they looked beyond themselves and they could see the light of God's message of freedom.

They believed that their faith could penetrate the darkness of even the darkest night because, for them, no place was without their God. They understood that when darkness strikes, they need not sit helplessly by, absorbed by their plight. They knew how to look beyond their own personal midnights. It is a valuable lesson, teaching that when darkness strikes, the words of the psalmist offer a healing balm: "Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy cometh in the morning" (Psalm 30:5).