בס"ד

Torah in je leven integreren door reflectie en conversatie kan een ongelooflijk leuke en boeiende ervaring zijn. Het is een ontdekkingsreis waarbij oude wijsheid en tijdloze leringen tot leven komen in onze dagelijkse ervaringen. Door reflectie hebben we de mogelijkheid om diep in het rijke tapijt van Tora te duiken en er diepgaande inzichten en lessen uit te halen die resoneren met ons moderne leven. De vreugde ligt in de 'aha'-momenten, die momenten waarop een Torah-vers of -verhaal plotseling verbonden is met onze persoonlijke uitdagingen, aspiraties en waarden. En wanneer we met anderen over Torah praten, wordt het een interactief onderzoek, waarbij verschillende perspectieven en interpretaties ons begrip vergroten. Deze dialogen wekken vaak opwinding en intellectuele nieuwsgierigheid op, waardoor het leerproces zowel plezierig als bevredigend wordt. Tora wordt een levendig en dynamisch deel van ons leven, dat niet alleen leiding biedt, maar ook een bron van eindeloze fascinatie, verbinding en groei.

OPMERKING: Voel je niet verplicht om elke bron door te nemen of alle vragen te beantwoorden - tenzij je dat wilt. Zelfs één bron of één vraag geeft je genoeg stof voor discussie en meditatie. Geniet ervan!

Some thoughts about Parshat Bo

“And the L-RD said to Moses: Stretch out your hand toward heaven, that there may be darkness over the land of Egypt—darkness that may be felt.” (Exodus 10:21)

The Torah draws a striking distinction in this verse between ordinary darkness and a darkness that can be felt. This was not simply the absence of light. According to the Midrash, the darkness was “doubled and redoubled” to such a degree that a person who was standing could not sit, and one who was sitting could not stand. Movement itself became impossible. Darkness was no longer a condition of sight, it became a condition of existence.

Our Sages explain that this darkness corresponds to the primordial darkness described at the dawn of Creation: “Darkness was upon the face of the deep.” This was not nighttime. It was a thick, compressive blackness that obscured light even during the day. In effect, the world was momentarily returned to a pre-creation state, before order, before clarity.

The Midrash describes this darkness as being like a coin, solid, heavy, tangible. This metaphor is arresting. Why compare darkness to money?

Money, like all forces in the world, has two states. In its elevated state, it facilitates life, generosity, stability, and blessing. In its fallen state, it becomes rigid, dominating, and idolatrous—no longer a means, but an end. When wealth, power, or systems are treated as ultimate sources of security, they cease to flow and instead harden. What should move becomes fixed. What should serve begins to rule.

Egypt was the most advanced civilization of its time, technologically, economically, administratively. Its mastery of the Nile gave it independence, abundance, and confidence. But that same mastery became the foundation of moral blindness. Power was absolutized. Human beings were reduced to tools. The divine Source behind nature was forgotten, replaced by nature itself, by wealth, by control.

The plague of darkness forced Egypt to experience the inner truth of its own worldview. A civilization that turns power into an idol eventually loses orientation. When authority is disconnected from moral accountability, society becomes immobilized. People can no longer “stand” or “sit”, they cannot move ethically, relationally, or spiritually. Darkness becomes something that can be felt.

This is not a message addressed only to ancient Egypt. The Torah states repeatedly that these events occurred “so that Egypt will know that I am the L-RD.” This is revelation directed outward, to the nations of the world. It is a timeless instruction about civilization itself: progress without moral grounding does not lead to light, but to paralysis.

In contrast, the Torah states: “But the children of Israel had light in all their dwellings.” Light here does not mean privilege or exemption from suffering. It means coherence. Where G-d is acknowledged as One, the ultimate Source of justice and meaning, unity remains possible. People can still see one another. Responsibility remains intact.

Light unifies; darkness isolates. When societies look elsewhere for salvation, whether to wealth, ideology, technology, or power, they lose not only G-d, but each other. When G-d is acknowledged, even imperfectly, light persists in the midst of darkness.

The plague of darkness teaches that moral vision is not guaranteed by advancement. It must be chosen. For Israel and for the nations alike, the lesson endures: acknowledge the One who stands above power, or power itself will become the darkness that can be felt.

May we be blessed to live with clarity, humility, and light.

Denk nu na over de volgende vragen:

  1. What are the sources of security and power that my society trusts most, and how would I recognize if one of them has quietly taken the place of G-d?
  2. Can a civilization be highly advanced and still be morally “immobile”? What signs would indicate that progress has outpaced responsibility?
  3. What does “darkness that can be felt” look like in human life today, psychologically, socially, or ethically, and how might it arise without people noticing at first?
  4. In what ways does acknowledging a single moral Source above power, wealth, or nature help people remain connected to one another rather than isolated?
  5. Where, in my own life or community, is there still light in the dwelling, and what practices help preserve it when the surrounding world feels dark?

Shabbat Shalom!

Door rabbijn Tani Burton

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