The Need for Darkness

The bulb needs the cold for its flower to blossom in the spring. It draws strength from its inner resources during the cold. Bulbs are thus planted right before the winter and gain nourishment from their dark subterranean climate. Bulbs grown in Tucson are planted when the temperature falls below 80 degrees. Some varieties of bulbs like Tulips and Hyacinths should be placed in a paper bag and placed in the vegetable crisper of the refrigerator for a few weeks before planting.

Bulbs are a symbol of how life needs the dark cold to grow. Like bulbs, human beings need to regenerate each night in the quiet darkness. We, too, are shaped by the seasons of the natural environment.

Morally and spiritually, we need the darkness as well as demonstrated by one of my favorite rabbinic texts from Talmud Shabbat 88b:

Our Rabbis taught:

The ones who are insulted but don’t insult back,

Listen to their shame but don’t respond,

Do (mitzvot) out of love,

(Retain) joy in suffering,

The text says about them:

“The ones who love God are like the sun rising in its might.”

The sun rising in its might refers to the time right before dawn. Surrounded by darkness, the sun quietly, confidently, naturally rises dispelling all darkness. The ones who love God even while surrounded by darkness are being compared to this moment of sunrise. The ones who can be surrounded by darkness but maintain their core do so because they nurture themselves from a deeper inner source. The darkness directs one to turn inwards. Like the sun, the light that emanates with strength from the core ultimately bursts outwards.

At the end of last week’s parashah, Vayeshev, Joseph is forgotten in the dungeon, a similar place to where he started his journey, in the pit. Between these two places of darkness he grows with the spirit of God making his way successful. He begins to learn who he is in darkness. He defines himself inwardly, regardless of the external circumstances. In this week’s parasha, Miketz, he rises to power in the light of day, in front of everyone. He does so with a deliberate strength that has been forged through darkness.

During Hanukkah, the darkness of this time of year directs us to tap into our inner resources. The darkness teaches us to find strength in our spiritual core. May the candles we light in the darkness be a symbol of this inner light. Like the sun that is rising, our light shines forth from the Source of light.

Dedicated in memory of Hans Spear.

-Rabbi Barkan

Bridging the Inner Divide

Parker Palmer -- author, educator, and activist who focuses on issues in education, community, leadership, spirituality and social change -- addresses a common spiritual problem in his book A Hidden Wholeness: The Journey Toward an Undivided Life. He describes how people’s inner lives – who we are at the core of our identity: our values, passions, our relationships -- are divided from what we are doing in the world. In his words:

The divided life comes in many and varied forms. To cite just a few examples, it is the life we lead when

• We refuse to invest ourselves in our work, diminishing its quality and distancing ourselves from those it is meant to serve

• We make our living at jobs that violate our basic values, even when survival does not absolutely demand it

• We remain in settings or relationships that steadily kill off our spirits

• We harbor secrets to achieve personal gain at the expense of other people

• We hide our beliefs from those who disagree with us to avoid conflict, challenge, and change

• We conceal our true identities for fear of being criticized, shunned, or attacked

  (A Hidden Wholeness, p. 6)

“As adults we may ask, ‘Whatever happened to me? How did I lose that capacity to be here as I really am?’ We have to find a way to build a bridge between our identity and integrity as adults and the work that we do in the world.” http://www.couragerenewal.org/stories/what-is-a-divided-life/

Joseph suffers from this painful divide during his late adolescence at the beginning of the narrative in this week’s Torah portion, Vayeshev. He desperately wants to find his place within his family, amidst his competitive brothers; yet, his brothers reject and despise him. This division leads him to dream twice of his entire family bowing down to him. Perhaps the pain of the actual divide between who he aspires to be and the reality that prevents him from being himself, blinds and leads him to the foolish act of telling his brothers about his dreams which make them hate him even more intensely.

The conflict comes to a head as his father sends Joseph to locate his brothers when they are out shepherding in the fields. As he is searching, he encounters a man wandering in the field. The man asks Joseph, “What are you seeking?” He responds, “I am seeking my brothers...” (Genesis 37:15-16).

This incidental encounter and question more subtly highlight Joseph’s internal void. “What is it that you are seeking?” should be read as an existential question here. His response, “My brothers” indicates, from this perspective that the only thing he is seeking in life is his brothers. What does this say about his sense of self? He is reduced to defining himself based on their acceptance of him. He has lost his own integrity. Not surprisingly, this seemingly simple question foreshadows the impending disaster with his brothers that awaits him around the corner.

At times, life asks us, “What are you seeking?” as we are aimlessly seek answers that can only be found within ourselves, hence the divide.

It is not until after Joseph is alone in the darkness of the pit that he embarks on a journey that teaches him to find the answer within, in the language of the Torah, “The spirit of God was with him.” Once he turns this corner, even though he faces other hardships he does so with integrity and wholeness. This journey ultimately prepares him to find his place among his brothers years later, serving as the leader who brings them together and to safety from the clutches of famine and grief.

The lesson of Joseph and Parker Palmer can help us directly face the divides in our lives with courage. There is direction when we are looking for answers for which we don’t even know the right question to ask. “What are you seeking?” can be a question that comes to us from unexpected sources, like a random person in a field. Let us first sense if there is a division between our inner selves and what we are doing in the world. Then we can be open to the explicit and subtle signs that life sends to us. We will recognize the form of the question: “What are you seeking?” At that point we can turn the corner to search for answers on the path we are genuinely meant to take.

-Rabbi Barkan