LIGHT OR DARKNESS?

An old German man was feeling guilty about something he had done, so he decided to go to Confession. He said, "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. I feel terrible because during World War II, I hid a Jew in my attic."  

The priest said, "But that's not a sin! I wouldn't feel bad about that if I were you." "But I made him agree to pay me 50 Marks for every week he stayed."

The priest said, "Well, I admit that it wasn't the noblest thing to do, charging the man to save his life, but you did save his life, after all, and that is a good thing. Don't worry about it too much; G-d forgives."

The man said, "Oh thank you, Father, that eases my mind. I have only one more question to ask you: Do I have to tell him the war is over?"

When we read about our bondage in Egypt, we can’t help but wonder how we survived. I don’t just mean how we survived physically, but how we survived emotionally. How did we rise from slavery in Egypt to become the most fabled nation in history? Why did this crushing blow not break us?

While we are at it, we can ask the same question about the rest of our sordid saga. Every time we thought we were settled and safe, an enemy popped out from somewhere and dispatched us into yet another exile. From Israel to Babylon, to Persia, to the Syrian Greeks, and Rome. Then the crusades, expulsions, inquisitions, pogroms, the Holocaust, the wars in Israel, terror attacks, and most recently, the October 7 massacre. How we survived is the resounding question of history.

To answer it, we must return to the first exile, the prototype for all future exiles. The story of this exile began with Joseph, continued with Jacob, and concluded with our nation in slavery. The book of Exodus begins with the words, “These are the names of the sons of Israel who came to Egypt, with Jacob, each came with his household.” This passage is filled with inspiration. Let’s unpack it.

The first message is that we are the children of Israel. In the Hebrew language, there is a delightful tool called numerology. It helps us drill down to the inner meanings of words. Hebrew letters double as numbers, so when we calculate the numeric value of a word, we can link it to other words with a similar value.

The numeric value of the Hebrew word Israel is 541. This is the same as the combined value of the words or and choshech, Hebrew for light and darkness. This teaches us about the purpose and power of an Israelite. Our task is to bring light into the darkness and to demonstrate that darkness's inner soul is light. When you see vicious dark behavior, know that there is light in there somewhere. The task of the Israelites is to reveal it.

The opening passage of the book sets the tone for our exile. How do you survive in a place of darkness, suffering, and despair? By knowing that you are the children of Israel; you bring light to darkness. By knowing that you are not here to suffer. You are on a mission. You are not here to succumb to the darkness but to transform it into light. You are the children of Israel. It is your identity, your power, your mission.

This brings us to the second message of this passage. Our sages tell us that the Torah enumerates the names of the Jews who came to Egypt to remind us that they left Egypt with the very same names 210 years later. They never changed names. They never changed identities. They never lost sight of their mission. That is how we survived.

The third message of this passage is that they came to Egypt with Jacob. Jacob lived in the light. He did not dwell in darkness. Even in Egypt, Jacob carved out a corner of light. He lived in a city called Goshen, where his children built Torah academies and places of worship. They were in Egypt, but behind the virtual walls of their spiritual fortress, you would never know it.

This set the tone for the next generation that would be enslaved. Most would not live in Goshen; they would have to live among the Egyptians, but they wouldn’t have to live in darkness. Like Jacob, they would transcend the darkness. Their hearts could be a dwelling place for G-d no matter where they resided. In this vein, Joseph was also their guide. Unlike Jacob, Joseph did not reside in Goshen. He resided in Zoan, the nation’s capital. He lived, dined, and did business with the Egyptians. He lived among idolatry, deceit, violence, sorcery, and hedonism, yet he remained Joseph.

Thus, after listing the names with which the Jews came to Egypt, the Torah states, “And Joseph was in Egypt.” The message here is not just that Joseph arrived in Egypt ahead of his brothers. The message is that he remained Joseph even when he was alone in Egypt. When Joseph was appointed viceroy, Pharaoh assigned him an Egyptian name—Zafnat Pane’ach. But Joseph refused to use it. “And Joseph was in Egypt.” Though he was (the only Jew) in Egypt, he remained Joseph. Eventually, even Pharaoh accepted him as Joseph. Even Pharaoh reconciled with the fact that Joseph wouldn’t dine with the Egyptians because he ate kosher and didn’t worship with them because he worshiped G-d.

Jacob showed us how to form a strong community of light even in the Diaspora. Joseph showed us how to survive in the Diaspora when we are all alone surrounded by spiritual darkness. Jacob showed us how to transcend darkness, Joseph showed us how to illuminate it. Joseph didn’t carve out a circle of light and cloister himself within. Joseph ventured out into the spiritual darkness and lived a model lifestyle filled with light. Eventually, he became an Egyptian hero. Even people who thrived in darkness learned to appreciate Joseph’s light. Jacob and Joseph are our models; that is how we survived.

The Torah tells us, “And Joseph and all his generation died, and a Pharaoh arose who did not know Joseph.” Even after Joseph passed away, it was only Pharaoh who forgot Joseph. The Jews never forgot. We remembered and that is how we survived.
The Jewish people have been exiled for more years than they lived in Israel. Every time we settled down and created a circle of light, a community, a Torah center, our enemies forced us to take up the walking stick.

In our long history, we have been scattered in every corner of the world. It is because every place on earth deserves light. We, the Israelites, the agents who bring light to darkness, are needed there.

That is why G-d gave us the Torah. It wasn’t just to build communities that flourish in light. It is for us to bring the Torah’s light to communities that live in the dark. We are not there because we need to suffer. We are there because we are needed. This is why we were sent away again, and again, and again. This is why the Diaspora has lasted so long. Viktor Frankl famously wrote that if you find meaning, you can survive almost any suffering. We found meaning; that is how we survived.

That will be the era of Mashiach, may he come speedily, Amen.

A little story.  In the 1950s, the Lubavitcher Rebbe, walking on Eastern Parkway in Brooklyn, encountered two administrators of a local yeshiva (Jewish day school) gazing at a yellow school bus parked on the road.

When the Rebbe asked them what they were looking at, they said that the bus was on sale and they were thinking of purchasing it for the yeshiva. "We desperately need our bus," they told the Rebbe.

"But this bus looks like an old shmateh," the Rebbe said. "It seems like it's on the verge of retirement. Why not purchase a brand-new bus for the children?"

"If we could only afford that type of money!" they exclaimed. "The price of this old bus is something we could maybe fit into our budget."

"Let me tell you something," the Rebbe responded. "You know why you can't afford the money for a new bus? Because in your mind, the old and run-down bus will suffice for your yeshiva. If it would be clear to you that the children need a new and beautiful bus, you would have the money to purchase it."

What the Rebbe was saying is that in many cases, your standards are often what ultimately define the quality and destiny of your life.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Yoseph Geisinsky