Don't Let the Light Go Out - JUDITH ELLEN ROBINS z"l (Bo 5779)

The Goldberg Twins 12th Birthday (Sept. 1946)

There are different theories about why we light candles on a birthday cake. Some say it has Greek origins -- dating back to ceremonies celebrating Artemis goddess of the moon. As the moon is seen only in light, Artemis was celebrated with a single, large candle in the middle of a cake. Others point to 18th-century German aristocrats who celebrated birthdays with candlelight cake. Candles to mark longevity with a candle for each year of life.  

But why is so much meaning ascribed to light? In the Jewish tradition, the story of Creation begins with the “creation” of light. It is the very first of all divine creations to be judged "good." Tanach (the Hebrew Bible) compares light to learning. (Even English uses the same idea with the word "enlightened.") Our tradition also identifies light with goodness, the human soul, and even life itself. For instance, we light a yahrzeit candle to mark the anniversary of someone’s death. 

This week's Torah portion, Bo, teaches us something more about light as we are introduced to the 9th plague deployed to persuade ancient Pharaoh to let our people go. That is the plague of darkness. Darkness so pervasive Torah describes it as thick. (Ex. 10:22). Darkness so heavy that Egyptians could not see each other. 


But during the plague of darkness, the ancient Hebrew slaves could see; they had light in their homes. (Ex. 10:23 and Exodus Rabbah 14:3) From this the Gerer Rebbe (19th century, Poland), among others, explains this as a kind of moral darkness because Egyptians were unable to see each other's distress or know each other's needs. 

All of this took on special meaning for me earlier this week when my aunt, my mom's twin sister, died. Three years earlier my mom died during the same season; also at the time of reading in Torah about the plague of darkness. The picture above shows my aunt and mom just after blowing out candles on their 12th birthday cake. As kids they were known collectively as "The Goldberg Twins." Even as adults they were often mistaken for one another. For my sister and me, it was like having two moms -- two families. 

Their deaths are a personal darkness for my cousins, my sister, and me, and our children. And for anyone touched by their light and life. 

My aunt and mother exemplified what it means to be aware of others through light -- my mom as a classroom and mentor teacher, my aunt as a community leader and artist. Each of them celebrated the goodness in life and family. I could even say that was their special light in life -- to inspire others to see the good in life and in each other.

For example, when anyone in the extended family or among her friends felt overwhelmed or challenged, my aunt saw the good in and the potential for better in each of us. At moments of sadness or struggle, she was one to whom we could turn for light and inspiration. The arc of her life was always toward the light. The light of finding joy in family and celebrating the success of others, of bringing radiance and beauty to the lives of others. 

They created lives of light in a world of much darkness.

That darkness, in some ways, has become very thick in recent years. There is so much cynicism reflected in our civic snarkiness; too much sarcasm masquerading as humor. Many of us Instagram or Twitter to instantly alert the world about how some celebrity or politician has stumbled or misspoke. Some of us even alert others when a friend has made a mistake we consider funny. That type of behavior blinds us to the real needs of others.

May each of us, inspired by the lessons this week about darkness, do more to celebrate the light and good in each other.