Light in the Darkness, Darkness in the Light
Imagine this: a swarm of locusts invades your home, your garden, your fields, your community. These are strange creatures and you are fully aware of their horrific destructive potential. You know that when they leave you, they will not only have left your trees looking desolate and bare of leaves, but they will have taken with them, for their sustenance, most of your sustenance. All of your potential agricultural produce for the coming year will be severely compromised, and you will be left with little if any profit from your hard work.
But imagine, too, that despite the darkness the locusts bring, you notice that there is something beautiful in their swarming. Despite your initial fear and disgust, the locusts now seem to be calling to you. You go outside and deliberately walk into the swarm. To your surprise, the locusts part to allow you to enter their midst. They do not touch you. Your presence creates a path of light within the dark swarm. They do not bother you, and you do not bother them–they simply continue in their single minded devotion to finding the next green patch to devour. You are surrounded by locusts, you can see nothing but locusts, and yet you are untouched by them. They do not buzz like bees or whine like mosquitoes; you hear only the pleasant, slight swish of their flight. You begin to spin among them–a crazy dance of delight among these otherwise terrible creatures. They take no notice–they move forward to their next food stop as you joyously spin among them.
Positive and negative experiences are inextricably joined. We are grateful for light because we know the dangers of darkness. Food satisfies our hunger, only because we experienced the hunger in the first place. We treasure friendship because we have experienced loneliness.
Parashat Bo provides descriptions for only the last three plagues of the series of ten that were brought upon the Egyptians. The 15th-century commentator Abravanel suggests that there is a shared theme of darkness in these last three plagues: the darkness caused by the locusts; darkness itself as its own plague; and the slaying of the first born which occurred at midnight, in darkness. Out of the darkness of the last three plagues comes the pivotal moment in Jewish history when we are released from bondage, and given the opportunity to become a people.
Jewish tradition does not take lightly the knowledge that Israelite freedom was bought at the expense of the Egyptian people's suffering. In telling the story of our release from bondage at the Seder table, we spill some wine out of our overflowing cups to remember the Egyptian suffering. That act symbolizes a spiritual choice. We do not deny the difficulties of history. We do not deny the hard parts of reality. Yet we help create and change that same reality by projecting our joyous spirit upon it. The recognition of the pain that led to freedom allows us to celebrate that freedom even more fully, without rejoicing in our own pain or the pain of others.
Understanding the terrifying consequences of a plague of locusts does not negate our enjoyment of a moment of beauty in their presence. So too allowing ourselves to fully experience the joy of
Sara Cohen
Parashat Bo, 2015
