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According to the Cleveland Clinic, Nyctophobia is an extreme fear of the dark. This phobia is very common among children but can affect people of all ages. People with this specific anxiety disorder may have trouble sleeping, have panic attacks and may avoid leaving the house after dark. In this week’s parsha we are introduced to the final three plagues that befall Egypt in the wake of Pharaoh’s refusal to allow the people of Israel to be released from bondage. We first hear of locusts that ravage the land, and are eventually thrust by a wind into the Sea of Reeds. The famous and final plague is the difficult-to-swallow killing of the firstborn. Sandwiched in between these plagues however, is makat chosech, or the plague of darkness. A darkness so terrifying that it could certainly cause one to be Nyctophobic. Rabbi Yissocher Frand points out a large difference between the plague of darkness and the 9 other plagues. There is no warning about the darkness. Rabbi Frand believes that the darkness is itself the Pharaoh’s warning for makot bechorot- the death of the firstborn; A loud siren and flashing lights in pharaoh’s ears and eyes telling him to see…see what will happen if you continue to be hardened. The consequences will be dire. It is thought by some researchers that the human fear of the dark has an evolutionary basis. Predators would lurk in the dark, and if we cannot see them, we are in deep trouble. The Pharaoh was given the opportunity to stop the cycle of trauma for his people in Egypt. He had the opportunity to do the same for the people of Israel. He chose to remain in the dark…with devastating consequences. 

Rashi, the great French medieval commentator, believed that there were actually six days of darkness as compared to the Torah’s description of three. He said, “there was darkness of gloom when no man saw another during those three days, and there was moreover another period of three days’ darkness twice as thick as this when no man rose from his place: one who happened to be sitting when this second period of darkness began was unable to rise, and one who was then standing was unable to sit down.” Rashi describes an initial period of darkness where people did not communicate with one another, and then the final three days, a dark so palpable and thick that one could not even move to sit or stand. To be frozen in darkness for three days. Nyctophobia indeed.

I have often equated (including in my Mental health through a Jewish Lens class) that perhaps the darkness, the choshech, was symbolic. I have pointed out the debilitating symptoms of depression as being a possibility if we are thinking more abstractly about the concept of darkness. Rashi’s comment also brings up the possibility of the frozen nature of a trauma response. Think fight, flight, or freeze. I think of the freeze response that can kick in during or in the wake of a traumatic event. Have the Egyptian people been traumatized by so many plagues already that they are given one final trauma before one of the most devastating that one can experience befalls them…the death of a child? 

Even this thick darkness, this blackness, this horrific trauma experience perhaps, is not enough to convince the Pharaoh to fully loosen his grip on the freedom of the Jewish people. The next trauma is indescribable, causing a wail to reverberate throughout Egypt. To this day, we still remove wine from our cup during our Pesach Seders to recall the sorrow of others, even during our periods of joy. We have survived as a people, and we continue to do so, but sometimes the cost of our freedom is great. We recognize that. We are commanded in this week’s parsha to never let our children and future generations forget the story, complete with its very extreme costs. “In the future, when your child asks you, ‘What is this?’ you shall tell him, ‘With a mighty hand, the Lord brought us out from Egypt, from the land of slavery.’”  

We find ourselves at a place in history where we are asking ourselves hard questions. We see the suffering of so many in Gaza, and we think of the trauma of all of those who have been impacted since the horrors of October 7th. The darkness that fell upon so many without warning was thick and palpable. The human cost of freedom and peoplehood can be traumatic. As Jews, and people of peace, we take no satisfaction in suffering and loss of life. We also know that we need to be free, that we have been commanded since time immemorial to pass down our stories, To never forget, to never give in, To overcome and to survive. The cost is great, the darkness is thick, and we can be confused and scared. 

If any darkness becomes too overwhelming, before we feel as if we cannot move, or know whether to sit down or stand up…we must support and love one another. We must give of our lights when others’ are dimmed or need enhancing. When swarms of locusts overwhelm us, we must remember the ruach, the wind of Holy Breath that gave us relief, and look to the past to give us hope for the future…to serve as a lighthouse as we sail on the rocky waters of the unknowable moment. Yes, Nyctophobia makes sense…predators do exist in the dark…but so does God. Let us allow Divine light into our dark moments, and continue to remove a bit of wine from our cups, even as we celebrate with joy. We struggle with God to find the holiest of balances, the truest version of Shalom. In our darkest doubts, we discover the essence of who we are as a people. 

Shabbat Shalom

– Rabbi Josh Gray