🎤Kol-🐥Hayyah🐘 - קוֹל־חַיָּ֖ה
Bo’ 5779: Rabbi Boris Dolin
As we make our way through the story of the Exodus this week, we are given a vivid description of how we encounter pain and suffering in our world. One by one, the plagues have rained down on the Egyptians; blood, frogs, insects, that list we know all to well from our Pesah seiders. The Egyptians suffer, yet Pharaoh's heart is hardened and he refuses to let the Israelites go. His world is falling apart, his people are dying, yet Pharoah closes his eyes and ears, his heart is “hardened”, and whether by his own will or by the will of God, he refuses to change.
In Parashat Bo’, we encounter the final of the ten plagues, locusts, darkness and the death of the first born. Each of these plagues works to motivate Pharaoh to let the Israelites free, yet it is the darkness that truly takes hold of the Egyptians, and it is what eventually leads up to the final and most devastating of the plagues, the death of the first born. This darkness according to our text is not just a lack of light, but a purely overwhelming darkness, a physical, spiritual and emotional darkness which takes hold of the Egyptians like no other kind of suffering.
This was a thick darkness, a darkness that could be touched. In this place, as we read “people could not see one another, and for three days no one could get up from where they were”, but that also somehow “all of the Israelites enjoyed light in their dwellings” (Exodus 10:23, NJPS translation). Our tradition teaches us that the Egyptians were not just experiencing physical darkness, but the deepest of spiritual darkness -- the darkness of depression or being separated from their people, and the darkness of communal pain. Some have said that in these short three days they realized the true horror of what they had been going through with the plagues, or even that they had begun to recognize the ways that their lives depended on the enslavement and suffering of others. In this thickest of darkness, the Egyptians could not move, they lost track of time and place, and they, those people made strong under the rule of Pharaoh, felt all alone.
Rashi, the great Torah commentator while not silent about the other plagues asks the reason only for the darkness, “Why did God bring darkness upon them?” This is a thick darkness that confuses all of the the other senses and makes human interaction, and even worse for Rashi, teshuvah, repentance, impossible. Without the ability to get up, without the ability to see or hear one another, there is no longer the possibility for relationship and community, and this from the viewpoint of a Jew is an unbearable kind of suffering. As the commentaries hint at, the Egyptians may have been sitting in their houses, unable to not only get up, but also not knowing whether there was anyone left in the world at all. This was a darkness of solitude, and with nowhere else to turn, the people started to fall apart.
Unfortunately, for those of us who are activists, people who work to pay attention and to fix the brokenness in the world around us, the darkness we encounter can sometimes be overpowering. Especially for those who have taken the important step of moving their focus beyond caring only for people, and expanding their circle of compassion to the needs of non-human animals, the reality of the suffering is often too much to bear. When every meal has the potential to force us to confront the reality of life and death, when every conversation forces us to realize how separate our choices makes us from others, often we feel all too alone. Our food choices, whether we want it to or not, can complicate our relationships, our social lives, and somehow can turn us into the outliers in a world where contributing to animal suffering is simply the default. But any committed animal advocate knows, while we may choose not to participate in this suffering, we have no choice but to open our eyes even wider to the needs of all life around us, not just the non-human animals, but the needs of anyone who needs our compassion.
The description of the final plagues and Pharaoh's response is one Biblical example of the ways that so many people are resistant to change, yet, just as importantly, it also reminds us of how we can make our way through this darkness to a place of hope and light.
Even with the darkness that we see all around us when we open our eyes to the suffering of non-human animals, we still need to open our eyes to the light that we can find in each other, and the strength that we have inside ourselves. We need to continue to have tough conversations, and always work to educate others about the issues. We need to protest, and fight to ensure that all life is honored and cared for. Yet we also can’t forget to care for our own health and well being. Dwelling in the darkness is all too easy when we know what is out there in our broken world, but a focus too much on the suffering will only bring the world of suffering to ourselves. Exercise, eat well, have fun, and don’t give up on people no matter how frustrating they may be. We know well that there is enough pain in the world, but we should never let it become part of who we are.
Erik Marcus, a well known animal activist and author, worked tirelessly for many years researching and educating others about veganism and animal issues. He read the statistics, he saw inside the slaughterhouses, and he most likely had more than his fair share of heart wrenching experiences in the process. A life of animal activism was surely also a life of encountering endless darkness and pain, a reality that was bound to make any compassionate person lose hope, if not also lose much more. Marcus was able to reflect on how he made his way through this darkness in his book, Self Care for Activists, where he reminds us that to best serve others, we should never forget to take care of ourselves:
"Effective animal advocacy is therefore, in the end, a product of a gentle spiritual grounding that transforms the activist first and our brutal world second. As you begin to understand that the fate of countless billions of animals requires as much internal contemplation as external action, you’ll relax into a fuller picture of what’s actually occurring and how to best encourage change. Intuitions and synchronicities begin to arise that make miracles happen. You’ll gain the ability to accomplish more by doing less. It’s no longer about working yourself to exhaustion; it’s about perceiving the subtle interconnections that allow the smallest actions to ripple out to massive changes."
I often take these words to heart as I continue to work to make this a better world for animals, and educate others about making compassionate choices. There are times where the pain of what I see is simply too much to bear. There are times when the ignorance and cruelty of other human beings is painful and depressing, and where the conversations are so difficult that I simply want to walk away. We live in a world of endless plagues, of suffering, violence, darkness, and more than a few people who do not want to make the necessary changes to end these problems.
Yes, animal advocacy is conscious decision to fight against suffering and violence, but it is also a conscious and purposeful life choice that obligates us to not give up on the world, to not walk away from others, even those who frustrate us most. Even more, when lived with kavvanah, intention, animal advocacy should not only be a pathway to encountering suffering, but more importantly can be the clearest way to inspire us to see light, hope and joy in a very broken world.
Animal advocacy above all should be a way of making our way through the darkness of the world, and a reminder that light is within reach. But to get there, we can’t give up on ourselves, and we can’t give up on each other.
---
Marcus, Erik. Self-Care for Activists: A Guide to Clearing Yourself of Trauma While Working for a Better World, Mocana Productions, 2015.
Bo’ 5779: Rabbi Boris Dolin
As we make our way through the story of the Exodus this week, we are given a vivid description of how we encounter pain and suffering in our world. One by one, the plagues have rained down on the Egyptians; blood, frogs, insects, that list we know all to well from our Pesah seiders. The Egyptians suffer, yet Pharaoh's heart is hardened and he refuses to let the Israelites go. His world is falling apart, his people are dying, yet Pharoah closes his eyes and ears, his heart is “hardened”, and whether by his own will or by the will of God, he refuses to change.
In Parashat Bo’, we encounter the final of the ten plagues, locusts, darkness and the death of the first born. Each of these plagues works to motivate Pharaoh to let the Israelites free, yet it is the darkness that truly takes hold of the Egyptians, and it is what eventually leads up to the final and most devastating of the plagues, the death of the first born. This darkness according to our text is not just a lack of light, but a purely overwhelming darkness, a physical, spiritual and emotional darkness which takes hold of the Egyptians like no other kind of suffering.
This was a thick darkness, a darkness that could be touched. In this place, as we read “people could not see one another, and for three days no one could get up from where they were”, but that also somehow “all of the Israelites enjoyed light in their dwellings” (Exodus 10:23, NJPS translation). Our tradition teaches us that the Egyptians were not just experiencing physical darkness, but the deepest of spiritual darkness -- the darkness of depression or being separated from their people, and the darkness of communal pain. Some have said that in these short three days they realized the true horror of what they had been going through with the plagues, or even that they had begun to recognize the ways that their lives depended on the enslavement and suffering of others. In this thickest of darkness, the Egyptians could not move, they lost track of time and place, and they, those people made strong under the rule of Pharaoh, felt all alone.
Rashi, the great Torah commentator while not silent about the other plagues asks the reason only for the darkness, “Why did God bring darkness upon them?” This is a thick darkness that confuses all of the the other senses and makes human interaction, and even worse for Rashi, teshuvah, repentance, impossible. Without the ability to get up, without the ability to see or hear one another, there is no longer the possibility for relationship and community, and this from the viewpoint of a Jew is an unbearable kind of suffering. As the commentaries hint at, the Egyptians may have been sitting in their houses, unable to not only get up, but also not knowing whether there was anyone left in the world at all. This was a darkness of solitude, and with nowhere else to turn, the people started to fall apart.
Unfortunately, for those of us who are activists, people who work to pay attention and to fix the brokenness in the world around us, the darkness we encounter can sometimes be overpowering. Especially for those who have taken the important step of moving their focus beyond caring only for people, and expanding their circle of compassion to the needs of non-human animals, the reality of the suffering is often too much to bear. When every meal has the potential to force us to confront the reality of life and death, when every conversation forces us to realize how separate our choices makes us from others, often we feel all too alone. Our food choices, whether we want it to or not, can complicate our relationships, our social lives, and somehow can turn us into the outliers in a world where contributing to animal suffering is simply the default. But any committed animal advocate knows, while we may choose not to participate in this suffering, we have no choice but to open our eyes even wider to the needs of all life around us, not just the non-human animals, but the needs of anyone who needs our compassion.
The description of the final plagues and Pharaoh's response is one Biblical example of the ways that so many people are resistant to change, yet, just as importantly, it also reminds us of how we can make our way through this darkness to a place of hope and light.
Even with the darkness that we see all around us when we open our eyes to the suffering of non-human animals, we still need to open our eyes to the light that we can find in each other, and the strength that we have inside ourselves. We need to continue to have tough conversations, and always work to educate others about the issues. We need to protest, and fight to ensure that all life is honored and cared for. Yet we also can’t forget to care for our own health and well being. Dwelling in the darkness is all too easy when we know what is out there in our broken world, but a focus too much on the suffering will only bring the world of suffering to ourselves. Exercise, eat well, have fun, and don’t give up on people no matter how frustrating they may be. We know well that there is enough pain in the world, but we should never let it become part of who we are.
Erik Marcus, a well known animal activist and author, worked tirelessly for many years researching and educating others about veganism and animal issues. He read the statistics, he saw inside the slaughterhouses, and he most likely had more than his fair share of heart wrenching experiences in the process. A life of animal activism was surely also a life of encountering endless darkness and pain, a reality that was bound to make any compassionate person lose hope, if not also lose much more. Marcus was able to reflect on how he made his way through this darkness in his book, Self Care for Activists, where he reminds us that to best serve others, we should never forget to take care of ourselves:
"Effective animal advocacy is therefore, in the end, a product of a gentle spiritual grounding that transforms the activist first and our brutal world second. As you begin to understand that the fate of countless billions of animals requires as much internal contemplation as external action, you’ll relax into a fuller picture of what’s actually occurring and how to best encourage change. Intuitions and synchronicities begin to arise that make miracles happen. You’ll gain the ability to accomplish more by doing less. It’s no longer about working yourself to exhaustion; it’s about perceiving the subtle interconnections that allow the smallest actions to ripple out to massive changes."
I often take these words to heart as I continue to work to make this a better world for animals, and educate others about making compassionate choices. There are times where the pain of what I see is simply too much to bear. There are times when the ignorance and cruelty of other human beings is painful and depressing, and where the conversations are so difficult that I simply want to walk away. We live in a world of endless plagues, of suffering, violence, darkness, and more than a few people who do not want to make the necessary changes to end these problems.
Yes, animal advocacy is conscious decision to fight against suffering and violence, but it is also a conscious and purposeful life choice that obligates us to not give up on the world, to not walk away from others, even those who frustrate us most. Even more, when lived with kavvanah, intention, animal advocacy should not only be a pathway to encountering suffering, but more importantly can be the clearest way to inspire us to see light, hope and joy in a very broken world.
Animal advocacy above all should be a way of making our way through the darkness of the world, and a reminder that light is within reach. But to get there, we can’t give up on ourselves, and we can’t give up on each other.
---
Marcus, Erik. Self-Care for Activists: A Guide to Clearing Yourself of Trauma While Working for a Better World, Mocana Productions, 2015.