Deadly Depression: The Plague of Darkness

Today I mourn the loss of two precious individuals. One well known. The other local. Both horrific. Both avoidable. Both resulting from the depth of despair and darkness. One was the untimely passing of an incredibly talented actor from a drug overdose, the second was the devastating suicide of a beautiful, bright and successful young Ivy League college student. Lives cut off way too soon, and lives, that from the outside, seemed so perfect. Permanent solutions unfortunately taken for temporary situations. Both trying to escape the seemingly unescapable, resulting in a loss that can never be undone.

Darkness.

It is easy to mistakenly believe that darkness is objective. When it is dark it is dark. Yet, darkness can be extremely subjective. The fact that there is light for one doesn’t mean that everyone can see it. And when one cannot, it doesn’t matter if it is the middle of the day or the middle of the night, it all becomes one and the same.

So too, the Plague of Darkness didn’t affect everyone equally. Simultaneously some had light, others did not.

“No person could see his brother, nor could any person rise from his place, for three days; but for the children of Israel, there was light in all their dwellings” (Exodus 10:23).

The Plague is divided into two parts. Firstly “no person could see his brother” and only after was that followed by “no person could rise from his place.” When one is stuck in darkness, when one cannot see the light in his life or the light that is around him, the first thing he or she does is pull away from others. We discussed in previous plagues the danger of coldness, of apathy, when one is no longer reaching out as that person no longer cares. The most dangerous situation is not the cry for help but the lack of a cry.  When one feels past the point of no return, the result is silence. Dark silence.

Anyone who has lost a friend to suicide or another reckless action is often filled with grief and guilt wondering if there was a way we could have reached out more, been more present, more aware, more knowing. But chances are we couldn’t have. It wasn’t that we weren’t there. It was that our dear friend could “no longer see his brother.” They didn’t reach out because they couldn’t even see us anymore. They were so trapped, so sick, so stuck in their darkness that even if we were right there, hands outreached and begging for contact, they were blinded from us.

During this time however this person might have very well gone about his or her day-to-day business. He may have been at a party the night before, socializing and seemingly happy. She may have sat next to you in class, seemingly engaged and “fine.” But they weren’t. They were still moving around but slowly filling and suffocating from that darkness.

And then eventually they stopped moving. It might have been hours before, maybe minutes. But after they could no longer see their brother, they then could no longer rise from their place. The darkness took over. Enveloping. Suffocating. Destroying.

The darkness was so thick that they were physically paralyzed, not even being able to rise from their place (Midrash Rabba, Shemot 14:4).

We all experience darkness in our lives. We all have times when we feel overwhelmed or question our purpose. And when we are immobilized, we cannot see what is right in front of us. Flip on the light, even for a second, and we will get our bearings. But without that glimmer of illumination, of hope, we do not have the confidence or even awareness to take a step in the right direction.

The trick is recognizing that the light need not come from outside of ourselves. There is a pilot light within each and every one of us. And it doesn’t go out. We refer to the soul as a candle, a “ner neshama.”  But we need to be aware to open our eyes and look deep within to see it. It only takes a little bit of light to dissipate the darkness. And only a small opening will allow the light to shine through.

There are times that we may doubt if our own light exists. But often if we can’t find our own we can find another’s. Even when we won’t reach out for our own needs we are often able and willing to help when another needs us. And that can be the step to our own healing.

Looking back at the wording of the Plague of Darkness, “no longer being able to see our brother” has an additional meaning as well. Part of the Plague was that in Egypt they did not care about another. They couldn’t see or recognize the needs of those that were right in front of them. We have hit our lowest when another is suffering and we are uninterested or too unaware to even notice (Chidushei HaRim). Not only then does “our brother” stay in darkness, but even if we think we are fine we are truly in a very dark place as well. And the one who is unaware of his darkness is in even more trouble than the one who recognizes there is no light.

We therefore have a responsibility to constantly and consistently ensure that we focus on the light within ourselves and strive to help others recognize their own. We can never know how light or dark it is for someone else. But we can assume that there is no one and no place that couldn’t use more illumination. Even the seemingly brightest people may only shine their light outwards.

And the more we focus on the needs of those around us, the more purposeful we will feel, the more cared and loved for they will feel, and the better chance we have at illuminating the paralyzing darkness that unfortunately plagues so many.

http://www.interinclusion.org/inspirations/the-plagues-of-the-heart-and-mind-part-11/

http://www.interinclusion.org/inspirations/plagues-of-the-heart-and-mind-part-9/

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