The Plague We Choose

The Plague We Choose
Rabbi Ari S. Lorge

Before rabbinical school, when I lived in Chicago, I played team trivia. A lot of team trivia.

Our team’s name was Werewolf Bar Mitzvah, and we were unstoppable.

Within a one block radius, off the Southport stop on the brown line, and within our own minds, we were quite a big deal.

My contributions to our team’s strength: a breadth of knowledge of cinema and television, encyclopedic mastery of musical theatre, sci-fi and fantasy literature, decent skills in general history, the minor I almost earned in art history, and – anything Jewish.

While none of you came here ready to play, I’ll pose a piece of trivia:

According to Bereshit, the book of Genesis, what existed before God began creating the world?

Before heaven and earth, before creation there was God, water – and there was darkness. Often, people assume that, on the first day of creation, if God made light, God certainly must have created darkness as well. But that’s not the case. A darkness exists that is as primordial and old as God.

What is this darkness? Where did it come from? What is its purpose?

We aren’t told. But we can assume a few things.

This darkness is not the absence of light. Light didn’t exist yet. And, we know when God does create light on the first day – it isn’t light as you and I think of it. After all, God doesn’t make the sun, moon, and stars until day 4. So for three days of creation there is a divine light that is somehow distinct and different from the sun’s rays – and yet stands up against the primordial darkness.

I assert that we better understand this primeval darkness when we turn to this week’s parshah and learn about the famous 9^th plague. This is the very next time we hear about darkness after the creation story. Torah tells us that “Thick darkness descended upon all the land of Egypt for 3 days…but all the Israelites enjoyed light in their dwellings” (Exodus 22-23).

What do we learn about this darkness? Most commentators believe this plague of חשך, is not normal darkness. This is why I think the plague of darkness is related to that primordial darkness.

Torah says וְיָמֵ֖שׁ חֹֽשֶׁךְ – the Egyptians could feel this darkness.

And this darkness was so heavy and oppressive לֹא־קָ֛מוּ אִ֥ישׁ מִתַּחְתָּ֖יו - a person could not even stand up; they were made low by it.

The last detail we learn about the darkness of this plague is that

לֹֽא־רָא֞וּ אִ֣ישׁ אֶת־אָחִ֗יו (Exodus 10:23)

As is often the case, it is possible to translate the Hebrew in a few ways.

Most commonly we might render the verse, “because of the darkness people could not see their brother.”

But other commentators suggest that we ought to translate the line differently.

“Because of this darkness people could not see they were brothers.”

What is a darkness that is so pervasive you feel it? What is a darkness so strong it diminishes you, lowers you, debases you? What is this primordial darkness against which God first cast light into the world?

It is the darkness of a society that does not recognize the humanity of their fellows and becomes blind to their plight. The Egyptians chose to blind themselves to the oppression of the Israelites. They chose not to see the degradation, not to hear the cries of the persecuted and scapegoated, not to stand up and against the slaughter of Israelite babes. This is a darkness of one’s choosing. It is a society that has decided to live in the dark – to willfully harden their hearts, stop up their ears, close their eyes, for the sake of comfortable living and a comfortable conscience.

And what is the supernal light God created on the first day? What does it mean when parshat Bo tells us that in spite of that deep abiding darkness in Egypt, the Israelite homes had light? This is the light of a community that knows they are connected, bound together, and responsible for and to each other’s suffering.

The prophet Isaiah makes this clear: “And you who offer your compassion to the hungry And satisfy the famished -- Then shall your light shine in darkness.” (Isaiah 58:10-11) God’s light shines through the actions of a community ready to attend to those in need because they recognize their common humanity – in the words of the commentary - they can see that they are brothers. This is the counterpoint to the primordial darkness of believing you have no connection to the fate of others.

Our tradition, our Torah is sometimes multivocal, often complex, usually nuanced. And yet, on some subjects it is crystalline clear.

Mercy is a Godly calling. Compassion is a condition of moral living. And calls for mercy and compassion are not attacks. In a morally confused time, we must be clear about that.

God warns us in the Bible, there are “Those who call evil good And good evil; Who present darkness as light And light as darkness; Who present bitter as sweet And sweet as bitter! Who vindicate the guilty and attack those in the right.” (Isaiah 5:20-23).

But we Jews must not fall prey to those voices. We learned in Egypt good from evil, darkness from light. There is a moral drumbeat within the Torah. “For you were strangers in the land of Egypt.”

When the stranger in your midst is persecuted: cry out against it and welcome the stranger. You were a stranger in Egypt.

When unjust laws target the stranger: work to strike them down. We are commanded in this week’s parshah, “There shall be one law for the citizen and the stranger who dwells among you.” (Exodus 12:49).

When the destitute worker, the hired hand, the servant and slave are maltreated and maligned, defend them, uphold their rights, and redeem them, for you were slaves in the land of Egypt.

Thousands of years ago God called out to our ancestors through his prophet and commanded us, saying:

“Rise, Shine...When Darkness covers the earth and people do not see one another…may nations come and walk by your light…” (Isaiah 60:1-3). May we help illuminate the faces of those strangers targeted and in need of compassion and mercy.

May we reject the comforting darkness of callousness that has stalked our steps since creation in favor of the difficult divine light of mutual responsibility.