Those who read this column regularly will recall that last summer I wrote about my experience of visiting the Abayudaya community in Uganda. What I didn't write about at that time was my two experiences with darkness during our visit. The first - on Erev Shabbat in the village on Nabugoye Hill - when the electricity went out (as it does regularly in their community) in the middle of Shabbat evening services, and stayed out until Shabbat morning. Walking down the little hill from the synagogue, I watched my feet carefully stepping around the rocks to ensure that I wouldn't fall, knowing that once I made it to the guest house, there would be small electrically charged lights by which we would be able to eat our Shabbat meal and celebrate. The second, however, was a very different experience.
Having decided that our trip would not be complete without participating in an African safari, we set out from the Abayudaya village to Murchison Falls where we would spend two days and nights on safari, lodging in what, at least according to the internet images, appeared to be an African oasis with running water, full electricity, and the amenities we would need to be comfortable. As it turned out, there was indeed electricity, and therefore light, at certain times of the day: 5-7 am and 7-10 pm. The first night, immediately after the lights went out, I fell asleep - for about ten minutes, only to be awakened to the sound of something shuffling through the room. And, then I heard something flying through the room. There I am, lying in the pitch dark unable to see a thing - without even starlight to illumine the room. It's just me and this thing or things about which I have no clue, except that it/they are shuffling and flying through the room - all night long. Never have I been so petrified - in the light or darkness -as I was in those moments.
As I think about my two encounters with darkness, I am struck by the midrashic explanation of Adam's first experience of nightfall. According to Breisheet Rabba, the first Shabbat of creation lasted a full day and a half - 36 hours. Experiencing so many hours of darkness, Adam was overcome with dread, spending the whole time worrying that under the cover of darkness the snake would do him harm. Luckily for Adam, God provided him with two flints from which he could produce fire during those hours of darkness. Oh, how I would have liked to have those flints in my hours in the Ugandan lodge - never mind that I have no idea how to use them!
This week, as I re-read Parashat Bo, I am struck by plague of darkness and of the many other references to darkness. We read of the last three plagues brought on the Egyptians, each of which has elements and connections to darkness. The eighth plague - locusts descend over the land and the Torah tells us they "invaded all the land of Egypt and settled within all the territory of Egypt in a thick mass; never before had there been so many, nor will there ever be so many again. They hid all the land from view and the land was darkened... " (Exodus 10:14-15).
Next, the ninth plague: the plague of darkness which the Torah describes God telling Moses to "Hold out your arm toward the sky that there may be darkness upon the land of Egypt, a darkness that can be touched." Moses held out his arm toward the sky and thick darkness descended upon all the land of Egypt for three days (Exodus 10:21-22). The final plague, the death of the firstborn sons, also occurs in the dark. Moses said, "Thus says the Lord: Toward midnight I will go forth among the Egyptians..." (Exodus 11:4).
Darkness by itself is natural - a normal event, especially at night. Why would the Egyptians need to be afraid of it? But Rashi says, what makes this darkness a plague is that the darkness that descends upon Egypt is no ordinary darkness. It is not simply the absence of light. It is, he explains, a darkness during which the dark of the day is even darker than the darkness of the night. And the dark of the night is even darker than the darkness of the day! This darkness was so thick that "Each person did not see their sibling, and no one rose from under it for three days, but as the Torah records, for the Children of Israel there was light in their dwellings".
The Hassidic teachers taught an incredible lesson based on this verse. Whoever does not see their friends with a "good eye" cannot rise up from the darkness. In a time of distress, working together may be the only way out. In discussing this plague and its impact, the Slonimer Rebbe, Netivot Shalom, quotes the Zohar that "from within the darkness there is light"!!!
Another work of the time, Barukh HaLevi Epstein's Torah Temimah offers a slightly different insight: If Noah and his children were promised that "day and night will not cease", how could it be that there was actually complete darkness in a way that changed the rules of creation? Darkness, he says, was not in the air, but in the eyes.
The Egyptians failed to see their responsibilities towards others. They were swelling in darkness in contrast, it seems, to the Israelites, who had "light in their dwellings" - who recognized, in those moments, the needs and concerns of each other. When we lose our group cohesion and mutual concern, we too are afflicted with darkness in the eyes. I hope and pray that I never have to live through a night of darkness as I did in the African lodge. But more than that, I hope and pray that I, and we, continue to find ways to be concerned about each other, about our community, and about our world so that never will we have to experience the plague of darkness.
Shabbat shalom