Darkness and Light

I had the privilege earlier this week of teaching at the Anacostia (DC) Watershed Stewards Academy. This version of the course is specifically designed for faith leaders. And I can tell you that there is no better place to study the first lines of the book of Genesis (describing the emergence of the world out of the primordial waters) than with a bunch of spirited, spiritual water activists.

We spoke about how, in the biblical view (as in other tales of creation), life begins in water. So it is with our modern story of evolution, life emerging from the seas. So it is with the story of each human being, each mammal and even each egg-born being. All emerge from a life-giving, life-protecting sac of liquid.

Water, we discussed, is the culture of all life and the world's great purifier. Fire is also a purifier, but it tends to destroy in the process. Though some things are purged and improved through fire, living things tend to perish in it. Water, though not without risk, cleanses and restores us, ridding us of our unwanted past and preparing us for a desired future. How awful, then, when we pollute the purifier.

But there was another insight that emerged in that discussion. About darkness. The scene of creation is set as follows:

When God began to create the heavens and the earth - the earth being unformed and void, with darkness over the surface of the deep and the spirit of God sweeping over the waters - God said, "Let there be light." And there was light. God saw that the light was good, and God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light Day, and the darkness He called Night. And there was evening and there was morning the first day.

Why, someone asked, was only the light good, and not the darkness too?

Perhaps, it was suggested, because light was a new creation, something novel and unknown, something that had to be tested out, tried on for size, taken out for a spin to see how it felt. And the answer was, it felt good.

Darkness, on the other hand, was already present, a known quantity, and a conundrum. Was it a product of creation or the absence of creation? Was it part of life or the essence of nothingness?

And once light came along, why was there still darkness? Light, after all, infuses and banishes darkness. Once light was created, darkness was vanquished, destroyed, chased from every corner of creation. The rabbis emphasize this, saying the primordial light of the first day - unlike the light of the sun of the fourth day - filled the universe from one end to the other. And yet the text speaks of God separating the light from the darkness, reining in the light, and reintroducing darkness into the world of creation.

Even if this darkness is not "good," the text seems to be saying, it does have a purpose. It is not the same as the darkness that came before. That darkness was chaos, enveloping everything. This darkness is contained, sharing time and space with light. That darkness hovered over all, defined everything. This darkness is tamed, has boundaries and is part of the breathing of the universe, the rhythm of life. It is a relief, a rest, the incubator of life.

Most of all, this darkness is different because it has a name given by God. This darkness is Night.

As part of the divine cosmic scheme, no matter how deep the Night, it ultimately gives way to the light of Day.

So we hope, at the dawn of spring.

Hands-on Jewish sustainability course

(I just received the following from Hebrew College up in Boston. For all those who are between 18 and 25, with time, inclination and the funds, this could be a great learning opportunity. Spread the word!)



"The Jewish Farm School and Hebrew College are partnering to offer you a week-long, intensive course exploring the intersection of Judaism, agriculture and contemporary food justice.

This week of experiential learning will help you increase your skill-based knowledge of sustainable agricultural techniques while you engage in meaningful volunteer service work.

You will have the opportunity to dialogue with activists, community leaders and business leaders and to study in the Hebrew College beit midrash (house of study) where classic Jewish texts will enlighten your understanding of contemporary environmental and food justice issues. A team of expert instructors from Hebrew College and Jewish Farm School will be on hand to offer guided mentorship.

When: Sunday, June 3-Sunday, June 10, 2012
Where: Sustainable farms in the Greater Boston Area and Hebrew College, Newton, MA
Who: Students and professionals, ages 18-25; others will be considered.
How: Tuition is $1000 + transportation; generous fellowships are available.

*College credit available for interested participants*

To find out more about fellowships and credit expenses contact Rabbi Or Rose, 617-559-8636

To find out more about this program  visit jewishfarmschool.org.

Application Due: May 1st, 2012"

Harbingers of Spring

Right on time, the peepers have returned.

They greeted me after megillah reading last night, singing their chorus of longing into the soft, warm March air.

Well, one did at any rate. It was, as usual, a lonesome call of an avant-garde male, out before the rest, desperately hoping that at least one of the pond's she-frogs has emerged from her hibernation seeking a long-delayed, refreshing, gratifying tryst.

It is a daring audition. But then again, pioneers are, by definition, singular folk, carried aloft and ahead by their visions and passion, fueled by the same breath that gives wing to their song. If they are right, or lucky, or both, their solo turns into a rousing, transporting chorus that lifts the spirit and well-being of all. So it promises again to be for this little fellow, and his awakening cohort of lovers.

In 2008, they emerged around March 5. In 2009, around March 7. Last year, no doubt the same time (I came back from Cambridge around Purim-time and heard the peepers in full chorus then). I know because I mentioned them in this blog.

The cycles of the seasons are comforting, reassuring. It seems prudent to give up all expectations of a late-winter blistering blizzard (I will shelve that hope and dust it off next winter). But that disappointment is soothed by the peeking out of spring crocuses and daffodils, the heightening chatter of birds, the lengthening of daylight (growing by a hefty 2.5 minutes a day!) and the spring leap of the clock this weekend.

One more sign that spring is pressing hard to come: sunrise is no longer visible from my south-easterly-facing study.  It is time, then, to retire my snow-starved boots, crank up the compost, clean out and close up the forlorn wood-burning stove, shed the pleasures of cozily hunkering down and ramp up for the joys of ... Passover preparations.

Primer on current Jewish voices on environment

If you want an overview of some major developments and players in the field of climate change and the Jewish community, take a look at this article posted by the Yale Forum on Climate Change.