Festival of Darkness + Lehrhaus Boston
by Rabbi Nate DeGroot
As creation crept towards its first winter solstice, Adam HaRishon, the primordial human, was terrified. According to the midrash, Adam was born in the fall and for months, had only ever known shortening days. Day after day, Adam fretted as darkness encroached and nights got longer.
“Oy li,” Adam wailed, reasoning that it was on account of sin that daylight was steadily disappearing. Adam arose and for eight days prayed and fasted as the days got shorter and the nights got longer until mercifully the solstice arrived. Overjoyed to see lengthening days for the very first time and now at ease understanding the way of the world, Adam commenced an eight day celebration in honor of the returning light.
The midrash tells us that the following year, Adam celebrated these festivals again - both the eight days leading up to the solstice and the eight days after - for the sake of Heaven.
For obvious reasons, many have connected this midrash to the solstice-oriented holiday of Hanukkah, which is almost upon us, and also has eight days of celebrating the movements of light and dark. But something key is often missing in the comparison.
Our Hanukkah narrative typically focuses only on the post-solstice period, the Festival of Lights. What about the pre-solstice period, the Festival of Darkness?
At this time of year, if we narrow our celebratory gaze only on the increased light, while bemoaning or ignoring the increased darkness, we lose something essential. Yes, the notions of “driving out darkness” or “light prevailing” are inseparable from racist and colonialist histories and realities. But beyond that and very much including it, in a primal sense, to ignore or discard darkness is to ignore or discard life itself. It is to be, as Catherine Keller might say, “tehomophobic.” For creation was formed from darkness (tehom), after all.
“Even though darkness is restated as evil or absence,” writes Bayo Akomolafe in a letter to his daughter, “this is not simply the case. Think about it, dear: don’t things grow in dark places? Seeds tremble and crack open in the dark of the soil; babies grow in the darkness of the womb; photographs need darkrooms to properly develop; and, even though light is often centralized as the main “ingredient” in the production of biological vision, seeing would not be possible without the agency of darkness…”
Anyone who’s ever stayed up late or woken up early to experience a different kind of creative possibility knows that darkness is not the absence of something. And certainly not an evil something. Rather, in the words of Lexie Botzum, “...we must take seriously the idea of tehom, the unformed deep, as a source of generative potential.” Darkness is not something to be conquered or overcome. It is itself matter. It matters. It’s a portal. It’s magic.
Did primordial Adam know this wisdom of the dark? Was its magic learned during those trying autumn weeks and those eight long nights that preceded the solstice? I like to think so. And I like to think that perhaps that first solstice celebration wasn’t just a celebration of light returning, but a celebration of darkness itself. An ordaining of darkness.
Maybe that’s why Shammai lit his Hanukkah candles the way he did, removing a candle each night until all the candles were gone and only darkness remained.
Bayo, again to his daughter:
“You will encounter troubles of your own. You will be “traveled” by things words cannot encircle. Find the others who can hold space with you. Then, when in the alchemical dynamics of things, the sun emerges again, don’t walk off rudely into his arms. Turn toward the smoldering darkness whence you came, and thank her for shaping you, for scaring you, for wounding you, and defeating you, and shaking you, because in her womb you were thoroughly purged, and made fresh for new glimpses of wonder. And as you walk farther into the domineering light, the dark will bless you with a gift to remind you that you are not as contained or as limited as you think, that there is more to you than what meets the educated eye, that whatever you do, the whole universe does the same along with you—imitating you with a childish keenness, and that you are never, ever alone. That’s why shadows were invented.”
As we approach tomorrow’s early morning solstice, I want to bless us that we might experience this seasonal hinge like the mythical Adam HaRishon, with praise and gratitude for darkness’ mystery, reveling in its chaotic depths, honoring its diffracted gifts, and paying homage to its trickster wisdom. That, amidst this fraying world and because of it, we celebrate together the Festival of Darkness!
With blessings,
Rabbi Nate DeGroot
Rabbi Nate Teaching at Lehrhaus Boston
Severed Heads and Sacred Oil: Hanukkah Tales of Rebellion
THIS Sunday, December 22, 2024
Somervillle, MA
5:00 PM-6:15 PM
Purchase Tickets Here
If you’re in the Greater Boston area, come to Lehrhaus in Somerville THIS Sunday night to do some Hanukkah learning with Rabbi Nate, The Shalom Center’s new Director. Or if you have friends or family who live near Boston who might be interested in attending, forward them this email.
If you’ve never been to Lehrhaus, you’ll definitely want to check it out. And if you’ve never learned with Rabbi Nate, this is a fantastic chance to get to know him while diving into some wild Hanukkah tales of rebellion. Full class description and ticket purchasing here. Hope to see you there!