From Darkness to Light

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Welcome. I'm Rabbi David Lyon from Congregation Beth Israel in Houston.
No matter where we live, we were entering the darkest
season of the year, literally and figuratively. Long ago. The
darkest season of the year was very literal. When the
sun set, it was total darkness. A candle lit the room,
a torch brightened the road. But for the most part

(00:22):
it was dark, and it was dangerous for some. It's
also a figuratively dark season, whether it's politics, war, or
general uncertainty. Such darkness is difficult to navigate. First, let's
consider a literal darkness and Neil McGregor's book Living with
the Gods, Beliefs and People's he writes about darkness and light.

(00:43):
In a chapter called the Return of the Light, he
writes about a place thirty miles north of Dumblin, at Newgrange.
There in New Grange, he tells us, is a dark
stone vault deep inside a man made hillside, a structure
older than stonehedge, or than the Peerimids in Egypt. Inside
this place, he explains, it is dry and cold and

(01:04):
so dark that you can hardly see anyone else standing
in it with you. But he writes, this very dark
place was created for a purpose. Over five thousand years ago,
around the winter solstice, the darkest season of the year,
was filled not only with cold but also with dread.
Dark was equivalent to death and light was equivalent to life.

(01:26):
But Gregor explains every year, at precisely eight fifty eight,
on the morning of twenty one December, cloud cover, permitting
a shaft of direct sunlight, hits an opening about the
entrance to this stone age structure, then moves, consecrated into
a golden beam about fifteen centimeters wide, along a passage

(01:46):
lined with great megalis, until it penetrates the vaulted chamber
deep inside the mound, lighting the backstone of the space
where the dead were once buried for seventeen minutes. He writes,
the light of the sun comes to the dead. Heaven
and Earth are linked. He describes it as a feeling
that the light is coming to seek you out in

(02:08):
the darkness, to find you and to change you. That
liminal moment captured not only the imagination of ancient cultures,
it also drew them closer to faith and hope. They
found faith in the mystery of the dead, and they
found hope in the wonder of light and life. In Judaism,
these contrasts are also present in an evening worship service

(02:31):
on a weekday and Shabbat, we acknowledge God as a
one who brings on morning and evening, rather than two
gods who bring on evening and morning respectively. Judaism's monotheism
is reflected in one God who brings on both evening
and morning a new day. Likewise, lights are addressed in

(02:51):
many Jewish texts and rituals. In the Zohar, the book
of Jewish mysticism, we're taught Israel is a wick, Torah
is an oil, and the Shahina the divine presence is light.
And so we learn that we, the Jewish people, are
able wics who can sustain the light that is born
in us, just as we read in Proverbs, the soul

(03:12):
of humanity is the light of the eternal, and Torah
or oil is the fuel that enables us to sustain
that light that we bear, and the divine presence that
resides in us is the light itself. The rabbis of
old were keen on these imaginative descriptions. They enable them
to inspire the people to see themselves as bearers of

(03:35):
sacred light that deserve to be sustained through taurusmste commandments.
They were dependent on each other. If just one was
diminished or removed, the light would fade and wither. If
a Jew failed to bear up, or if the Torah
was forgotten, then God couldn't be our light and we
would either stumble or die in darkness. Further, the rabbis

(03:58):
taught in amid Rash rabbinic interpretation, the wickeder like those
who walk without torches in the dark night. They stumble
upon stones and fall. But the rights are like those
who walk in darkness holding lanterns in front of their faces.
If they come to a place where they might stumble,
they turn aside. Torah then is our light. It enables

(04:21):
us to avoid stumbling, not just on stones, but on
misdeeds and transgressions. Light is good and dark as evil
be it five thousand years ago and a man made
vault and new grange outside Dublin, or beginning four thousand
years ago in Torah, light has been equated with hopefulness
found in life, renewed after darkness. For ancient peoples, the

(04:45):
light that found its way into a cave outside of
Dublin touched the dead. For them, it was a way
to create a connection between the living and the dead,
though there is no direct equivalent in Judaism. It shouldn't
surprise anybody that we light in Judaism your side memorial
candles on the anniversary of one's death. The candle that flickers,

(05:07):
we can say, is a reminder of the light of
God that was in the past, the soul of our
beloved did. Is it any wonder, then, that on the
Sabbath we light candles in our homes and in the synagogue,
just as the sun sets at the moment when darkness
surrounds us. In the past, at least one light was kindled, eventually,

(05:29):
one for each time. The commandment to remember and observe
the Sabbath was written in Torah, one in Exodus, and
again in Deuteronomy. But in some home Sabbath candles were
lit for each child in the family. More light was
akin to more life, and in Exodus twenty seven we
learned to light what's called a nare tummy, an eternal light,

(05:50):
to remind us of God's eternal presence in our life.
Like the nare tummy that hangs above every holy arc
in a synagogue, it is a light that should never
go out. In a commentary on Psalms, we are taught
place oil within the lamp before it is extinguished. So
even before the oil runs out or the light bulb

(06:10):
is about to dim, add more, renew the light so
that it never goes out. The reminder of God's presence
burns within us, and even the small light of an
eternal light sheds light in the darkness and offers us
faith and offers us hope. Finally, we live in modern
times on very few places in the city are ever

(06:32):
truly dark. More often we think about darkness figuratively. In
our day. The darkness of politics, war, or general uncertainty
causes us to stumble. We use words like depression, hopelessness,
or malaise. But like any time of darkness, we still
look for light. We find light in places and with

(06:52):
people who give us reasons to feel hopeful. For example,
in my synagogue at Beth Israel, we have what's called
a Center for Spiritual direct Participants engage in personal conversation
and introspection with its director, and in groups and with
other leaders. They go deeply into that dark place within
them and touch it with the light of awareness, insight,

(07:13):
and hope. Like the Cave and New Grange, we open
the way so that the light can find us in
our personal vault filled with dash dreams, personal demons, and
deep sadness. Light can illuminate the darkness. We can become
more aware of it. We can name it. Then we
can use the light to show us the way up

(07:34):
and out of the darkness from the center of spiritual direction.
Successful participants discover prolonged light in worship on the Sabbath
and Holy days, in lifelong Jewish learning, in Jewish meditation,
and and acts of loving kindness like our myths, for
projects where we make hundreds, sometimes thousands of sandwiches for

(07:56):
hungry children to eat during the days, and many other
special projects. McGregor's book is the core of an exhibit
at Houston's Museum of Fine Arts. It's called Living with Gods, Art,
Beliefs and People's It isn't only ancient peoples and Jews
who found meaning and darkness through light. As the winter
soulstice sneers Christmas, lights will surely lighten the darkness too

(08:21):
in our neighborhoods and in your homes. It's all of
our religious natures to conclude that darkness isn't the end
of light. It's the reason we seek light, to expose
darkness and awaken it, and when we do, we awaken
ourselves to new possibilities. It might be the possibility of
life after death as ancients believed, or hope that comes

(08:43):
after despair as we come to believe our even righteousness
instead of transgression, which we all prefer to know. In
every generation, darkness closes in on humanity, and humanity seeks
a way back into the light. Fire, candles, light bulb,
street lights, and even the moon have helped us look

(09:04):
up again to find what we needed, If not literal light,
then figurative hope. Either way, we are part of the
human experience that has drawn to more life. In Judaism,
we are taught in Hebrew marbet Torah marbelt kaim. The
more Torah, the more life that is, the more we

(09:26):
seek the source of life and meaning and purpose that
is at the core of our respective religious traditions and faith.
The more life, the more light we will be able
to find as we continue to seek it. Torah is
the oil that fused the light. In Judaism, and the
more torol Jews bear. The brighter can be our light

(09:49):
and our life. But it isn't only in Judaism. And
as you've come to know from me, I urge you
to find, as we do in Judaism, your source of
light in your faith tradition, in your texts. And even
though every faith tradition does focus on the dark moments
in life because they are part of human experience, there

(10:11):
isn't any faith tradition that leaves us alone to struggle
in darkness. Instead, through faith and hope and optimism too,
we find the source of what we need to pursue
a life of meaning and purpose. When there is joy,
we feel bright and we feel lightened up, and those

(10:33):
are the moments that we seek all the time. But
in times of darkness, we have to remember that finding
light is meant for us to illuminate that darkness and
find meaning in it so that we can continue to
pursue what we need to do and to be. I
remember that when we left Houston to move for a
northern city that wasn't as fortunate as Houston to know

(10:55):
so much light and sunshine and hot summer weather, there
were many tanning salons in the small town where we moved,
and I wondered why this town had so many tanning
salons in it, And then I realized and came to
learn from myself, that they had fewer days of light

(11:16):
and sunshine, especially through the long months of winter, and
those tanning salons were for purposes of just getting a tan,
but rather to overcome the seasonal sadness and depression that
came with less light coming from the sun and from
other natural sources. And so there is a human need

(11:38):
to seek light, to benefit from sources of warmth and comfort.
So it isn't just the fireplace that we light or
the candles that we kindle, but it is also the
figurative sources of light too that we need. It is
sunshine and warmth, hugs and moments share together so that

(11:58):
we can find the light as a faith community as well.
I'm Rabbi David Lyon from Congregation Beth Israel and Houston.
To listen again or to share this message with others,
I hope that you'll find it at Sunday ninety nine
dot com. My podcast is Heart to Heart with Rabbi
David Lyon. You can also find it at the iHeartRadio

(12:18):
app at the season in December, and as the winter
solstice s nears in all the places where we live,
there is increasing darkness. But it's our hope that light
will be found, and as I'll share with you later,
as we prepare for Hanukkah, the menora the lamp in
which we place the eight candles for the eight nights,

(12:41):
and one more to light all the others. The custom
is to add a candle on each subsequent night in
order to increase light as the day's unfold. There was
a commentary that suggested that we begin with all the
lights lit and burning, and reduce the light as we go,
but t the Talma teaches maleen ba Kodesh. It means

(13:03):
that when we're given the opportunity to increase holiness, we
should and increase light in the darkest season of the year,
and increase light in the Manora is a beautiful and
meaningful way of demonstrating increased holiness along the way. So
if you have this chance, to turn on the lights
in your home, or to light candles to illuminate the darkness,

(13:26):
or to speak with others for the sake of the
light they need to find in their heart and soul.
This is the time, this is the season to do it.
As the cold and darkness comes over us, we need
to remember that it too will come to an end naturally,
but physiologically and emotionally, I think it takes a little

(13:47):
more time and effort. So let's try to be there
for each other, first with a word of gladness, with
a word of friendship that might even come with a
word of forgiveness and apology. And then to invite each
other to be in each other's company, perhaps to celebrate
one's own holidays at this season, but you know what

(14:09):
even better to share the holidays with others, to invite
them over for a little Hanika cheer, or Christmas cheer
or Kwanza cheer. I think it's possible in our day
and time to be sure that while we appreciate everybody's season,
it is a season that we share in darkness, and
as we seek light together, we should find mutual ways

(14:31):
to appreciate all the hope and optimism that awaits us
in the future. I hope that your darkness is illuminated,
and I hope your light burns brighter than ever, and
celebrate your holidays with Gusto and appreciation for the light
that does exist and the hope that does emerge in
these times, for you, for me, and all that were

(14:53):
touched by our lives. Thank you for joining me. I
look forward to being with you again next time.