Bo 5786 - Night vision: What can we see in the dark? Learning from Levinas.
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ShareThe plague of darkness: can we see others' suffering in the dark? Learning from Levinas and Rav Hirsch
"The death of the other man puts me in question, as if in that death that is invisible to the other who exposes himself to it, I, through my eventual indifference, became the accomplice; and as if, even before being doomed to it myself, I had to answer for this death of the other, and not leave the other alone in his death-bound solitude. "
Emmanuel Levinas, entres nous - On Thinking-of-the-Other
Emmanuel Levinas, entres nous - On Thinking-of-the-Other
We are at a place in the Torah where we are deep in suffering: the suffering of the Hebrews under Egyptian oppression, and the suffering of the Egyptians as a result of the plagues.
Last year in my commentary on Parashat Bo I explored how the plagues affect both the Egyptians and also the Hebrews, how the recounting of the plagues can affect us, today.
Please see:
Bo 5785 The plague filling all of our houses
Please see:
Bo 5785 The plague filling all of our houses
This year I will further explore the ninth plague, the plague of darkness, with an invitation to you, to join me in exploring how the phenonmenon of thick darkness inflicted on the our "enemy" elicits darkness in us as well.
(כ) ה֣וֹי הָאֹמְרִ֥ים לָרַ֛ע ט֖וֹב וְלַטּ֣וֹב רָ֑ע שָׂמִ֨ים חֹ֤שֶׁךְ לְאוֹר֙ וְא֣וֹר לְחֹ֔שֶׁךְ שָׂמִ֥ים מַ֛ר לְמָת֖וֹק וּמָת֥וֹק לְמָֽר׃ {ס}
(20) Ah,Those who call evil good And good evil;
Who present darkness as light
And light as darkness;
Who present bitter as sweet
And sweet as bitter!
For many years, my Torah study, and my understanding and practice of ethics, has been undergirded by the philosophy of Emmanuel Levinas (1906-1995), the French Jewish philosopher whose prodigious body of work focuses on the relationship of ethics to metaphysics and ontology (the nature of being). A theme running through Levinas' work is that of the Face of the Other; in plain language: what are the ethics of my obligations to others? How do I prioritize my obligations to others and act on these obligations?
Even an attempted encapsulation of Levinas' work is well beyond the scope of a Sefaria sheet / Torah commentary. Nevertheless, I invite my readers to dance with me in considering how we can think about our obligation to others, and in particular here, how we can bring considerations of our obligations to others into our Torah study, and thence into our actions in the world.
"[T]his facing of the face in its expression—in its mortality—summons
me, demands me, claims me: as if the invisible death faced by the
face of the other—pure otherness, separated somehow from all unity—
were 'my business.' As if, unknown to the other whom, in the nakedness
of his face, it already concerns, it 'regarded me' before its confrontation
with me, before being the death that looks me square in my
own face. The death of the other man puts me in question, as if in that
death that is invisible to the other who exposes himself to it, I, through my eventual indifference, became the accomplice; and as if, even before
being doomed to it myself, I had to answer for this death of the other,
and not leave the other alone in his death-bound solitude. It is precisely
in this call to my responsibility by the face that summons me, that demands me, that claims me—it is in this questioning that the other is my neighbor. This way of demanding me, of putting me in question and of
appealing to me, to my responsibility for the death of the other, is so
irreducible a meaning that it is in terms of this that the meaning of death
must be understood, beyond the abstract dialectic of being and its nega-
tion, to which (once violence is reduced to negation and annihilation)
death is reduced. Death signifies in the concreteness of what for me is
the impossibility of abandoning the other to his aloneness, in the prohibition addressed to me of that abandonment. Its meaning begins in the
inter-human."
Emmanuel Levinas, "From the One to the Other:
Transcendence and Time" in entres nous - On Thinking-of-the-Other Translated from the French by Michael B. Smith and Barbara Harshav Columbia University Press 1998, pages 145-146 (emphasis added)
me, demands me, claims me: as if the invisible death faced by the
face of the other—pure otherness, separated somehow from all unity—
were 'my business.' As if, unknown to the other whom, in the nakedness
of his face, it already concerns, it 'regarded me' before its confrontation
with me, before being the death that looks me square in my
own face. The death of the other man puts me in question, as if in that
death that is invisible to the other who exposes himself to it, I, through my eventual indifference, became the accomplice; and as if, even before
being doomed to it myself, I had to answer for this death of the other,
and not leave the other alone in his death-bound solitude. It is precisely
in this call to my responsibility by the face that summons me, that demands me, that claims me—it is in this questioning that the other is my neighbor. This way of demanding me, of putting me in question and of
appealing to me, to my responsibility for the death of the other, is so
irreducible a meaning that it is in terms of this that the meaning of death
must be understood, beyond the abstract dialectic of being and its nega-
tion, to which (once violence is reduced to negation and annihilation)
death is reduced. Death signifies in the concreteness of what for me is
the impossibility of abandoning the other to his aloneness, in the prohibition addressed to me of that abandonment. Its meaning begins in the
inter-human."
Emmanuel Levinas, "From the One to the Other:
Transcendence and Time" in entres nous - On Thinking-of-the-Other Translated from the French by Michael B. Smith and Barbara Harshav Columbia University Press 1998, pages 145-146 (emphasis added)
I must also mention here, briefly, that there is a complicated debate among scholars regarding Levinas' attitude toward Palestinians. This is well beyond the scope of this commentary. Please see, as a entry point into this complex subject, "Levinas and the 'faceless Palestinians' (Ethics and Politics)".
I will also acknowledge here that there is an inherent ableist element in any ideas that have to do with seeing the face of the other. I mean no disrespect to those who do not have the privilege of physical sight by what I write here.
What does seeing the face of the other have to do with this week's Torah portion, Parashat Bo? In this parsha we have the last three of the plagues, brought upon the entire Egyptian people: the plague of locusts, the plague of darkness, and the "plague" of the death of the firstborn; instructions for the first Passover meal, and and the preparations of the Hebrews for their emergence from enslavement. The plagues are unequivocally forms of collective punishment: the entire people suffer because of the cruel actions of their leader.
I am particularly interested in exploring the ninth plague through the lens "the face of the other", bearing in mind that in the dark, I cannot see you; at a remove, I can shield myself from your experience of trauma. Following Levinas: if you are inflicted with darkness, I can not see you; does my indifference to the darkness you are in make me an accomplice?
(כא) וַיֹּ֨אמֶר יהוה אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֗ה נְטֵ֤ה יָֽדְךָ֙ עַל־הַשָּׁמַ֔יִם וִ֥יהִי חֹ֖שֶׁךְ עַל־אֶ֣רֶץ מִצְרָ֑יִם וְיָמֵ֖שׁ חֹֽשֶׁךְ׃ (כב) וַיֵּ֥ט מֹשֶׁ֛ה אֶת־יָד֖וֹ עַל־הַשָּׁמָ֑יִם וַיְהִ֧י חֹֽשֶׁךְ־אֲפֵלָ֛ה בְּכׇל־אֶ֥רֶץ מִצְרַ֖יִם שְׁלֹ֥שֶׁת יָמִֽים׃ (כג) לֹֽא־רָא֞וּ אִ֣ישׁ אֶת־אָחִ֗יו וְלֹא־קָ֛מוּ אִ֥ישׁ מִתַּחְתָּ֖יו שְׁלֹ֣שֶׁת יָמִ֑ים וּֽלְכׇל־בְּנֵ֧י יִשְׂרָאֵ֛ל הָ֥יָה א֖וֹר בְּמוֹשְׁבֹתָֽם׃
(21) Then יהוה said to Moses, “Hold out your arm toward the sky that there may be darkness upon the land of Egypt, a darkness that can be touched.” (22) Moses held out his arm toward the sky and thick darkness descended upon all the land of Egypt for three days. (23) People could not see one another, and for three days no one could move about; but all the Israelites enjoyed light in their dwellings.
On the simplest, pshat level: not only were the Egyptians in a thick darkness; in this condition, the Israelis - who were "enjoying" light in their abodes - certainly could not "see" the Egyptians. A blackout for the Egyptians, and a blackout between the Hebrews and the Egyptians. If you are in total darkness, I will not be able to see what you are going through. This is very simple.
"A darkness that can be touched"... a darkness that is so thick, it pervades me and my ability to think about you. I suggest that the Israelites, "enjoying light in their abodes" as they were, were also in a thick darkness, with respect to the "plague" of darkness that was inflicted on the Egyptians on their behalf. They were "in the dark". And if I cannot see what you are going through, perhaps I am less likely to think about you, to consider you, to have compassion for you, to object to the collective punishment to which you are being subjected. I become an accomplice.
Let's look at the verb in our verse that is usually translated as ""a darkness that can be touched".
וְיָמֵ֖שׁ חֹֽשֶׁךְ
What does this mean?
וְיָמֵ֖שׁ חֹֽשֶׁךְ
What does this mean?
the verb here, יָמֵ֖שׁ, is from the verbal root √משש (according to Gesenius);
Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsh, in his commentary on this verse ("a darkness that can be touched"), explores the alternative spelling of the verb (also given in Gesenius) - √מוש - and in doing so, brings forward compelling ideas about darkness and how we find our way in the darkness. He explores the contranymic (containing opposite meanings) of this verbal root and discusses how it can mean not only to touch but also to yield:
"It is peculiar that מוש also means 'to yield,' thus simultaneously the opposite of 'to touch.' Touching, after all, denotes the most direct approach to the object. If we compare all the instances where מוש means 'to yield,' it becomes clear that מוש, unlike סור, does not generally mean 'to move away,' but always only 'to move away from the immediate vicinity....[it] must therefore signify the most immediate, loose surroundings of a thing, a touching without grasping, a contact without connection; that is, on the one hand: Touching is, in essence, a tentative approach, repeatedly releasing the object to reassure oneself that it is indeed the one being sought. It involves both a distancing and an approach to the object—and, conversely, for something previously connected: becoming loose, breaking free from the connection."
"Eigentümlich ists, daß מוש zugleich auch: weichen heißt, also zugleich das Gegenteil von Tasten. Tasten bezeichnet ja die unmittelbarste Annäherung an den Gegenstand. Vergleichen wir alle Stellen, in welchen מושweichen bedeutet, so ergibt sich, daß מוש, nicht wie סור im allgemeinen sich entfernen heißt, sondern immer nur: aus der nächsten Nähe weichen....מוש muss somit die unmittelbarste lose Umgebung einer Sache bedeuten, ein Berühren ohne zu fassen, eine Berührung ohne Verbindung, das ist einerseits: Tasten, — ist ja Tasten, ein unsicheres Berühren, das den berührten Gegenstand immer wieder losläßt, um erst sich zu vergewissern, daß es der gesuchte sei. Es liegt darin eben so sehr ein Entfernen, als eine Annäherung zum Gegenstande — andererseits für etwas bis dahin Verbundenes: lose werden, aus der Verbindung weichen."
Rav Hirsch's idea of "a touching without grasping, a contact without connection": This is precisely what I am exploring in this commentary. When we study Torah - for example, when we read about the plagues - or read the news, are we touching without grasping? Are we not seeing the "face" of the other? And when we touch without grasping, are we then becoming accomplices (back to Levinas)?
"[W]henever I am engaged with another person or persons, whatever I am doing, my relationships and my actions are ultimately of significance, in a sense before I am and before my capacity to think or act, precisely because of the capacity I have and the necessity that falls on me to respond to that other person’s needs and very existence. I may be blind to this capacity and necessity to respond—my responsibility as responsivity—but it is always there, an aspect of me and my relationship with each and every other person, whether I realize it or not. Hence, in a sense, I am always, in whatever I do, satisfying its directions or failing to do so, unavoidably. I am responsible for and to the other person “before” I am a person …. [This] is Levinas’s attempt to unsettle us into seeing our ordinary, everyday life in a different way. Michael Morgan. (2007). Discovering Levinas. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press: p.160)
How are we in the dark today? How might we be touching without grasping?
I will suggest a number of ways. It is useful here to consider the profound and incalculable impact on us of the news and journalism we consume and to which we have access. Does the "news" we absorb actually keep us in the dark? The "delivery" of "news" inevitably includes another type of black-out: censorship, and obstacles to journalism and press freedom:
and:
What is Israel trying to hide by imposing a media blackout on Gaza? EDITORIAL Le Monde September 1, 2025
By banning the press from accessing the Palestinian territory and waging the deadliest war against journalists in the history of armed conflicts, Israel is destroying press freedom, with little reaction from the United States or the European Union.
By banning the press from accessing the Palestinian territory and waging the deadliest war against journalists in the history of armed conflicts, Israel is destroying press freedom, with little reaction from the United States or the European Union.
And what of the deliberate restrictions of access to electricity and to infrastructure that Israel has caused in Gaza? For example:
(ד) וְשָׁפַט֙ בֵּ֣ין הַגּוֹיִ֔ם וְהוֹכִ֖יחַ לְעַמִּ֣ים רַבִּ֑ים וְכִתְּת֨וּ חַרְבוֹתָ֜ם לְאִתִּ֗ים וַחֲנִיתֽוֹתֵיהֶם֙ לְמַזְמֵר֔וֹת לֹא־יִשָּׂ֨א ג֤וֹי אֶל־גּוֹי֙ חֶ֔רֶב וְלֹֽא־יִלְמְד֥וּ ע֖וֹד מִלְחָמָֽה׃ {פ}(ה) בֵּ֖ית יַעֲקֹ֑ב לְכ֥וּ וְנֵלְכָ֖ה בְּא֥וֹר יהוה׃
(4)
Thus [God] will judge among the nations and arbitrate for the many peoples,
And they shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks:
Nation shall not take up sword against nation; they shall never again know war.
(5) O House of Jacob! Come, let us walk by the light of God.
We need not be in darkness. Let's develop our night vision. Let us walk by the light of justice.
May our study of Torah amplify our abilities to genuinely connect with and grasp the suffering of others. May our study of Torah elevate us from accomplices to agents of change who walk by the light of God.
