It's a cold winter night in the Gush, but the house is warm and bright, kids are happily engrossed in drawing or reading or hunkering over the computer, Shoshana is mired in a good book, I've got my guitar in my hand for the first time in who knows how long. Suddenly - - - it's black!! One of our not occassional enough Gush-wide electrical outages. It may be back on shortly, or it may be out for a few hours. In the meantime, it is indeed pitch-black in our three-floor house (not nearly as impressive as that might sound), and as we're groping for the candles and flashlights, suddenly a voice peels out filled with consternation, "It's Chosech Mitzrayim!!"
Choshech Mitzrayim - the standard term in Modern Israeli Hebrew for what we call in English "pitch black darkness". I try to allay the kid's fears as the cries of "Ima" grow more desperate. "Don't worry, kids, the electricity just blew, it'll be back on soon", I reassure, with absolutely no knowledge that this is the case. Because they're frightened, they know that it is dark not just inside but also outside as far as they might go. They can't read, can see their way to the bathroom, they are afraid of stubbing toes and bashing into things, and what else? Who else?
Choshech Mitzrayim. Darkness was the ninth plague visited upon the Egyptians, the one before the killing of the first-born. The plagues were actually referred to as signs and indicators, and intended to teach profound lessons to Am Yisrael and Egypt, no less than they were intended to exact just punishment on the Egyptians for their afflictions of the Jews. There are, therefore, messages embedded in the plagues taken as a set and viewed from an encompassing perspective. One way to look at the plagues is as a reversal of creation - darkness reverses light of the first day (and, as my son, Yinon, helped me see, the killing of the first born is the denial of the possibility of beginning, of creation itself - the womb is retroactively sealed, never opened by a "peter rechem" ("opener of the the womb", term for a first born). But the plague of darkness must satisfy another requirement. For Hashem has said to Par'oh (at the end of last week's parashah before the plague of the hail): Until now I have spared your person (and the lives of the Egyptians as well - the Midrash understands otherwise, but the pshat of the verses substantiates this), but now I will send My plagues against you and the Egyptians yourselves. Hail and locust, fine. All foodstocks are decimated, and anyone caught outside was killed. But - - - how is darkness an intensification of the plagues? How is it a plague which is just one remove from the killing of the firstborn?
Even before the commentators weigh in, the verses themselves tell us that this is an unearthly: "...vayhi choshech bchol eretz Mitzrayim vayamesh choshech" (And there was darkness in all of the land of Egypt, vayamesh darkness.).
The word "vayamesh" is the subject of some discussion amongst the commentators, some saying it means: it "lastnighted" darkness - i.e., the cycle of day and night ceased. Others say it means: the darkness moved (out the light). In other words, the darkness pushed out the light. However, neither of these approaches are entirely satisfactory, grammatically, and they don't address the gravity of the plague. The explanation, brought by the midrash as well as some commentators, that I prefer is: The darkness was palpable. This explains why the Egyptians not only couldn't see, but also couldn't move (The midrash: if an Egyptian was sitting, he couldn't stand; if he was standing, he couldn't sit).
But there remains a problem: We are told that the Jews had light during this time. Not just in Goshen, where they lived, but even in the Egyptian homes, which they entered freely and examined for valuables (but did tough a thing). If indeed the darkness is some kind of thick, paralyzing fog, how were the Jews able to move freely?
The Midrash asks: Whence such an unearthly darkness? Rabbi Yehudah and Rabbi Nechemiah mix it up, as they do dozens of time throughout Midrash Rabbah. Rabbi Yehudah says it comes from "the darkness of Above", and brings a verse showing how Hashem cloaks himself in darkness. Rabbi Nechemiah says it comes from "the darkness of Gehenna", and substantiates this claim with a verse.
What's the difference between this two sorts of transcendent darkness? The darkness of Gehenna is the darkness of ultimate, howling aloneness. Even deeper in Dante's Hell than the infernos is a Hell of freezing cold darkness and aloneness. Imagine if there was only you, ONLY YOU!! NOTHING ELSE!! Par'oh says, "This Nile is mine, I have created me!" The darkness of Gehenna, the terror of absolute aloneness, no sensation whatsoever will drive one around the bend. It's intolerable.
The darkness of Above is the direct opposite of this. The closer we draw to Hashem the more overwhelming His Presence and the more we must be shielded in order to continue to exist. When we are ever so close, it is oh so dark, but it is so, so much a darkness before the dawn.
And here's the deepest secret: it's the same darkness. The rasha, the evildoer who ultimately can only conceive of himself, enters the darkness of Gehenna and his person is shredded into fragment of being and reabsorbed into the cosmos; the tzaddik, the righteous one, who knows that there is ultimately, only One, whose Being he has the undeserved pleasure and privilege to channel through his life, his deeds, his being, is so unbearably close to that all-loving Giver that he understands the need for the darkness, and in that moment converts it to light: Ulechol Yisrael hayah or b'moshvotam - And for all Israel, there was light in their dwellings - - -
The candles are lit. The guitar plays quietly and we wait until the electricity returns. The youngest are curled up with their Ima in front of a gas fire. It's not light of the candles that banish "Choshech Mitzrayim" on this cold Gush winter night. It's the hugs. It's the patient waiting . It's the knowing Hashem. is. there.
Choshech Mitzrayim - the standard term in Modern Israeli Hebrew for what we call in English "pitch black darkness". I try to allay the kid's fears as the cries of "Ima" grow more desperate. "Don't worry, kids, the electricity just blew, it'll be back on soon", I reassure, with absolutely no knowledge that this is the case. Because they're frightened, they know that it is dark not just inside but also outside as far as they might go. They can't read, can see their way to the bathroom, they are afraid of stubbing toes and bashing into things, and what else? Who else?
Choshech Mitzrayim. Darkness was the ninth plague visited upon the Egyptians, the one before the killing of the first-born. The plagues were actually referred to as signs and indicators, and intended to teach profound lessons to Am Yisrael and Egypt, no less than they were intended to exact just punishment on the Egyptians for their afflictions of the Jews. There are, therefore, messages embedded in the plagues taken as a set and viewed from an encompassing perspective. One way to look at the plagues is as a reversal of creation - darkness reverses light of the first day (and, as my son, Yinon, helped me see, the killing of the first born is the denial of the possibility of beginning, of creation itself - the womb is retroactively sealed, never opened by a "peter rechem" ("opener of the the womb", term for a first born). But the plague of darkness must satisfy another requirement. For Hashem has said to Par'oh (at the end of last week's parashah before the plague of the hail): Until now I have spared your person (and the lives of the Egyptians as well - the Midrash understands otherwise, but the pshat of the verses substantiates this), but now I will send My plagues against you and the Egyptians yourselves. Hail and locust, fine. All foodstocks are decimated, and anyone caught outside was killed. But - - - how is darkness an intensification of the plagues? How is it a plague which is just one remove from the killing of the firstborn?
Even before the commentators weigh in, the verses themselves tell us that this is an unearthly: "...vayhi choshech bchol eretz Mitzrayim vayamesh choshech" (And there was darkness in all of the land of Egypt, vayamesh darkness.).
The word "vayamesh" is the subject of some discussion amongst the commentators, some saying it means: it "lastnighted" darkness - i.e., the cycle of day and night ceased. Others say it means: the darkness moved (out the light). In other words, the darkness pushed out the light. However, neither of these approaches are entirely satisfactory, grammatically, and they don't address the gravity of the plague. The explanation, brought by the midrash as well as some commentators, that I prefer is: The darkness was palpable. This explains why the Egyptians not only couldn't see, but also couldn't move (The midrash: if an Egyptian was sitting, he couldn't stand; if he was standing, he couldn't sit).
But there remains a problem: We are told that the Jews had light during this time. Not just in Goshen, where they lived, but even in the Egyptian homes, which they entered freely and examined for valuables (but did tough a thing). If indeed the darkness is some kind of thick, paralyzing fog, how were the Jews able to move freely?
The Midrash asks: Whence such an unearthly darkness? Rabbi Yehudah and Rabbi Nechemiah mix it up, as they do dozens of time throughout Midrash Rabbah. Rabbi Yehudah says it comes from "the darkness of Above", and brings a verse showing how Hashem cloaks himself in darkness. Rabbi Nechemiah says it comes from "the darkness of Gehenna", and substantiates this claim with a verse.
What's the difference between this two sorts of transcendent darkness? The darkness of Gehenna is the darkness of ultimate, howling aloneness. Even deeper in Dante's Hell than the infernos is a Hell of freezing cold darkness and aloneness. Imagine if there was only you, ONLY YOU!! NOTHING ELSE!! Par'oh says, "This Nile is mine, I have created me!" The darkness of Gehenna, the terror of absolute aloneness, no sensation whatsoever will drive one around the bend. It's intolerable.
The darkness of Above is the direct opposite of this. The closer we draw to Hashem the more overwhelming His Presence and the more we must be shielded in order to continue to exist. When we are ever so close, it is oh so dark, but it is so, so much a darkness before the dawn.
And here's the deepest secret: it's the same darkness. The rasha, the evildoer who ultimately can only conceive of himself, enters the darkness of Gehenna and his person is shredded into fragment of being and reabsorbed into the cosmos; the tzaddik, the righteous one, who knows that there is ultimately, only One, whose Being he has the undeserved pleasure and privilege to channel through his life, his deeds, his being, is so unbearably close to that all-loving Giver that he understands the need for the darkness, and in that moment converts it to light: Ulechol Yisrael hayah or b'moshvotam - And for all Israel, there was light in their dwellings - - -
The candles are lit. The guitar plays quietly and we wait until the electricity returns. The youngest are curled up with their Ima in front of a gas fire. It's not light of the candles that banish "Choshech Mitzrayim" on this cold Gush winter night. It's the hugs. It's the patient waiting . It's the knowing Hashem. is. there.
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