Bo 5773 - English

By Rabbi Rami Pavolotzky

B’nei Israel Congregation, Costa Rica

“Controlled Temporary Blindness”

In this week’s parashah, Parashat Bo, we read about the last three plagues that battered the land of Egypt (locusts, darkness, and the death of the first-borns) and which culminated with the glorious departure of the children of Israel.  I’d like to take the opportunity to comment on the meaning of the ninth plague, darkness.  Similar to the entire text of the Torah, the story of the plagues has both a literal and a metaphorical meaning, not always absolutely clear.  I’ll make reference to both types of interpretation, as it concerns the plague of darkness.

It is written in the Torah:  “Then the Lord said to Moses, ‘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.  People could not see one another, and for three days no one could get up from where he was; but all the Israelites enjoyed light in their dwellings.” (Exodus 10:21-23).

Classical commentators of the Torah have tried to explain this darkness, based on different proofs taken from the text itself.  The discussion basically centers on the meaning of the word veyamesh, which in this quote (taken from the JTS version) is translated as “can be touched”.

According to Rashi, the text refers to the Hebrew word emesh, which means “yesterday”.  For this reason, he (and others who follow his lead) explains that the night’s natural darkness continued during the day, increasing with each passing night, adding the darkness of the previous nights to the common darkness of each night.

Other scholars, such as Sforno, understand that the Torah refers to the verb mish, which means “to remove”, “to take out.”  Because of this, the ninth plague would have consisted of God’s removal of Egypt’s natural darkness of night, bringing instead all over Egypt a much thicker darkness than the one we perceive at night, which made it impossible to see anything or to produce any kind of light.  So, according to this explanation, whereas common darkness is open to receiving light and thus, to enabling us to see, the darkness of the ninth plague did not allow any light reception; it was an impenetrable darkness (by the way, this would explain why the Egyptians could not alleviate this noxious plague by simply lighting a candle).

Finally, others, such as Ibn Ezra, believe that the darkness was so definite it could be touched.  That is, it was not just absence of light but a sort of extremely thick matter, which would have descended over Egypt.  This interpretation is based on the vayamesh sense of “to feel”, “to touch.” 

Beyond whatever interpretation best adjusts to the text (in any case, now you can continue pondering this issue and participating in the discussion), the specific result of this unusual darkness was that, for three entire days, the Egyptians were unable to see the people around them nor could they stand, according to the verses quoted above.  Since we are referring to a plague, considered as a penalty or threat, we can conclude that to the Torah, the fact of not being able to see our fellow men and women is deemed as a harsh punishment.  Losing the ability to see those who are in front of us is considered, by the Torah, as a great and serious penalty.

Speaking of which, there’s a midrash that calls the ninth plague geheinom, that is, “hell” (Bereshit Rabbah 14:2).   Furthermore, this strange midrash relates the darkness of the ninth plague with the essential darkness that existed in the world before Creation, before God’s saying “let there be light”.  In this regard, Chumash Etz Chaim comments that just as the enjoyment of the light brought on by each Shabbat is like tasting a bit of the world to come (the reward that awaits the righteous), the darkness of the ninth plague was a bit of Geheinom, of the punishment that awaits the evil.

Then, according to this rabbinical explanation, what does being able to see people mean?  Why is it a punishment to not be able to see them?  Who are the evil in this midrash?  It is those who cannot recognize the suffering of their fellow men and women, who are unable to stand up and help them, they are the evil worthy of this hard punishment.

To have the ability to see others is tantamount to being able to distinguish in them something more than just a human figure, simply standing there before us.  Being able to see others is to acknowledge in the people before me a human being just like myself, with their joys and sorrows, principles and stinginess.  To see others is to feel their suffering, even when the other is different from me, even completely different from me.

It is not strange that the ancient Egyptians were punished with the impossibility of seeing their fellow men and women, remaining unmoved before their grief.  In fact, we could actually say that they decreed such punishment upon themselves.  When a nation enslaves people and builds an empire upon their shoulders, it is a sign that it has lost every capacity to see others.  Only when we are absolutely impervious to the human nature of my neighbors can we treat them as slaves.

Besides the obvious differences, I believe it is still a good exercise to reflect upon those circumstances where this phenomenon was produced, which we could call “controlled temporary blindness”, if I’m allowed the term.  This strange ability allows people to believe that the person before them has less dignity than them, or does not deserve the same rights or even deserves to be despised; when people do not want to see, they simply don’t see and go on with their life.  It is through this odd skill that societies are able to coexist with hunger, malnutrition, avoidable illnesses, intolerance, disdain for individual liberties, unabashed denial of human rights, etc., developing in their midst.

The Torah emphatically stipulates that being insensitive towards the suffering of others is one of the darkest vile deeds of humans, and even considers it as an affliction of the ability of human beings to develop to their fullness.  May God grant us the ability to learn to see our fellow men and women, to recognize their virtues and their weak points, to see the people around us as human beings sensitive to pain and joy.  Being able to see others is tantamount to lighting our own lives.

Shabbat Shalom!

Rabbi Rami Pavolotzky

B’nei Israel Congregation, Costa Rica