The Bright Side of Being in the Dark

Flickr user [F]oxymoron

Snow: here we go again.  Again this week, our schools and workplaces were delayed and closed.  #thundersnow became a trending topic on Twitter.  Local news revived last year's favorite portmanteaus, "snowpocalypse" and "snowmageddon."  And perhaps most vexing of all, many of us were left without electricity for hours or days.

Having no electricity is a strange experience.  For most of us, thankfully, it is not a major hazard.  It is certainly an inconvenience: no refrigerator, no clean clothes, no hot water.  But for those who haven't sought refuge with friends or family, it also poses a lifestyle challenge:  No television...no computer... What should we do with ourselves? 

Often, I think, how we respond to that question can make up for all the inconvenience.  Maybe you will have a real conversation with a spouse or a child.  Maybe you will play cards (or Monopoly or Scrabble) or do a crossword puzzle.  Maybe you will eat a meal by flashlight or break into the stash of Chanukah candles.  Without electricity, life slows down.  We are much more aware of the time we are spending with others.  We are more aware of the cycling of day into night, of the rising and setting of the sun.

Of course, in many Jewish households, this special kind of time is a weekly occurrence.  It is the character of Shabbat, the day of rest.   The Orthodox prohibition on using electricity on Shabbat helps families to focus on each other and to make space for reflection in our always-busy world.

When we are without electricity, we are forced to live a different kind of life.  And indeed, Shabbat is often described as an entirely different world.  Rabbi Irving Greenberg writes:

Shabbat is the temporary anti-reality of perfection.  For approximately twenty-five hours (Jews traditionally add some extra time to expand the realm of the good), all things are seen through the eyes of love, as if all of nature were perfect, in harmony with itself and with humanity.  Normally, all the world conspires to persuade people that business cannot function without their personal presence, that great opportunities are being missed, that catastrophe looms, that crisis has struck and demands immediate attentiveness.  For a day, Jews, dreaming, hear none of this.  On Shabbat, it is not really that one is forbidden to work, it is that all is perfect, there is nothing to do.  (The Jewish Way, p. 131)

Although the Reform observance of Shabbat is different from the Orthodox, we strive for the same measure of peace.  I suggest that being "unplugged" for a while–even against our will–can point us toward achieving it. 

Soon the Sabbath will begin, and I do hope that everyone's electricity has been restored.  But on our day of rest, let us try to recapture the stillness, the quiet, the patience, and the togetherness of a day in the snow and the dark.  Shabbat shalom.

For Discussion:  Do you have a GOOD memory from being without power this week or in the past?  Leave a comment and share it. (I'll go first–check the comments!)