Enlightening

“He reached the place and spent the night there because the sun had set.” (Bereishis 28:11)

Darkness can be overwhelming. The symbolism inherent in darkness is debilitating — it evokes hopelessness; when there’s no hope, there’s no life. Hope is the candle that lights up the darkness. Sadly, too many of us are too busy cursing the darkness to seek out a candle to counteract the black. We are too intensely involved in complaining about the miserable hand that has been dealt to us to focus on the positive, to bring hope into our lives. (Rabbi A. L. Scheinbaum, Pninim al haTorah)

As a busy mother, sometimes I wish for some peace and quiet. But you gotta be careful what you wish for — when you get it, it may not be what you expected at all.

At the very beginning when Covid hit, I was directly exposed to someone sick. I needed to go into strict quarantine — alone, in my room, for 14 days.

Until then, I’d never fully understood the torture of solitary confinement. I was running my house via the phone; the kids would come to my window to ask me questions or to say hi. They left me food outside my door (Binyamin makes a great tuna melt), and slid notes and pictures under my door. I hoped they were doing okay. I wasn’t.

Yaakov Avinu had two seminal experiences at night: the famous dream of the ladder and wrestling with Eisav’s patron angel. In both cases he emerged a stronger, more resolute person. His emunah in Hashem carried him throughout the darkness of night, throughout the ordeal, lighting up his path. Yaakov symbolizes triumph over adversity. He was the patriarch who initiated Tefillas Maariv. He taught his descendants that, even in darkness, Hashem is with us and we must entreat His favor. Yaakov taught us that with emunah, we can light a candle and overcome the darkness. One who has faith in his heart and a candle in his hand does not experience the darkness.

Every day I tried to keep busy with a new project for that day. I organized photos, recipes, cleaned my closet for Pesach. (This almost a full year before the next Pesach! I beat everyone!) But as each day ticked by, the loneliness and solitude grew heavier and heavier. I felt like I was in a self-imposed prison and the walls were closing in faster and faster.