"SEEING THROUGH THE DARKNESS"

A Sermonette for Shabbat Bo

January 10, 2003

Rabbi Edward Paul Cohn
Temple Sinai
New Orleans, Louisiana

In this week's Parashah, we read of the last four plagues that God brought against Egypt. And we also revisit the historic and climactic moment when, due to the horror of the tenth plague, the death of the first born, Pharaoh and the Egyptians finally submit to God's authority and hasten to send their slaves out of their country, thus liberating them to serve their God.

Well, there are a couple of interesting Midrashin involving the events that take place during this portion. The Midrash, of course, attempts to enlarge our understanding and to fill in the spaces between the letters of the text. In short, Midrash creates stories based on references in the Torah but which are not specifically stated. For instance, how about the issue of Joseph's bones? Remember that Jacob, before his death, had made a point to insist that he be buried up in Canaan with Abraham and Isaac at Hebron. And so, following his death, Joseph led a retinue up to Canaan for the funeral of his father.

In similar fashion, Joseph requested that, no matter what, whenever it was that God fulfilled His promised to return His people to their homeland, that his bones not be left in the tombs of the Egyptians but that they be carried out of Egypt and toward the Promised Land. Well, 400 years of slavery causes people to develop short memories. For instance, where were Joseph's bones anyway? It's not like the people who had suffered from such stern and unrelenting hardship had enjoyed the leisure to sightsee and to venerate the tomb of their forgotten once-viceroy of Egypt.

But we learn in Exodus 13:19, "And Moses took the bones of Joseph with him." Now here's where the sages spun their Midrash. They taught:

How did Moses know where Joseph was buried? It is said Serah, the daughter of Asher, who was of Joseph's generation, was still living. And Moses went to her and asked, "Do you know where Joseph is buried?" Serah's reply was, "The Egyptians made a metal coffin for him, which they sank into the Nile, in order that its waters might be blessed thereby." Then, too, the magicians and the sorcerers told Pharaoh, "Do you wish that these people should never leave Egypt? If they do not find the bones of Joseph, they will never be able leave."

So what was Moses going to do? He had to think fast. He had very little time. While the other Hebrews were collecting the spoils of the Egyptians, back pay for hundreds of years for cruel slavery, Moses had to find Joseph's tomb. But where? The Midrash continues:

Moses went to the banks of the Nile River and called out, saying: "Joseph, Joseph, the time in which the holy ones swore to redeem Israel has come, as has the time of the oath you had Israel swear. [That was back in Genesis 50:25.] Give honor to the Lord, God of Israel. God is waiting for you. Israel is still waiting for you. If you show yourself, well and good. If not, we shall be released from the oath you made our forebears swear." And immediately, Joseph's coffin began bubbling upward, rising out of the depths as though no heavier than a reed, and Moses took it.

We know from Exodus 13:19 about the bones of Joseph being carried out of Egypt. The significance of taking the bones back to Canaan may be understood, according to the ancient rabbis, as a parable of thieves who once entered a wine cellar, and who took a flask of wine and drank it. The owner of the cellar caught them in the act and said:

"I hope you found the wine which you've just drunk satisfying, fragrant and sweet. But now that you have consumed the wine, put the flask back in its place." And so, the rabbis, concluded, the holy one said the same to the fathers of the tribes of Jacob: "You sold Joseph into slavery and brought him down into Egypt; now you return his bones to their rightful place."

I had said earlier that in this week's Parashah we complete the story of those horrendous plagues that God brought upon the Egyptians. Let's focus for a moment on the ninth plague, the penultimate one, darkness. The Torah tells us that, during this plague, people could not see one another for three days, but that the Israelites enjoyed light in their dwellings.

The commentators upon the Torah have told us that this darkness was so thick as to actually be tangible. You could touch darkness.

And so the story is told of a young student learning for the very first time from his rabbi about the meaning of the plagues. And when the rabbi taught him about this tangible darkness, a darkness that was so thick that they could not see one another, the young student asked his rabbi,

What kind of plague was that? It seems to me that they could have simply lit their lamps and then they would have been able to see despite the darkness. Isn't that what one normally does every night when it gets dark?

His rabbi smiled, clearly indicating that he was pleased with the question. He nodded in appreciation to the boy and clarified the facts for him.

The rabbi said, "This darkness from which the Egyptians suffered was a very special kind of darkness. It was not a darkness that stopped the eyes from seeing. Rather, it was a darkness that affected the heart. If they were not able to see physically, these Egyptians were not able to feel for each other, nor to care for the well-being of each other. This is exactly what the Torah means when it says: 'They could not see one another.' They were blind to the needs of the other. Each person saw only himself or herself, and that, my young friend," said the rabbi, "is a terrible plague."

Certainly the rabbi taught the young boy a lesson about the heart of genuine faith. As much as we are concerned with the relationship between God and human beings, genuine faith must also be profoundly concerned with the relationship between one human being and another. For each human being deserves compassion and dignity since we are all the children of God.

And hence, in this Torah portion, Parashat Bo, the Torah instructs us that all of the people Israel had light in their dwellings during the plague of darkness against Egypt. Ours is the task to keep that light kindled-a selfless light of goodness which helps us to see one another ever so clearly. For when we see and care for and understand the other person, we come to learn all the more about ourselves.

Amen.