Surf A Little Torah
Yeshivat Har Etzion

PARASHAT BO

Rav David Silverberg

Yesterday, we discussed Rabbi Yehuda's famous remark cited in the Haggadah, in which he arranges the ten plagues that befell Egypt into three groups – "detzakh," "adash" and "be'achav" – and we presented Abarbanel's understanding of the significance of this classification. Today we will look at the approach taken by Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch in unearthing the underlying meaning behind the three categories of plagues.

Firstly, Rav Hirsch held that each group consisted of only three plagues. The plague of the firstborn, though it appears to be counted as the fourth plague in the final group, essentially stands separate and apart from the other nine plagues. It marked the final blow through which God forced Pharaoh into freeing the slaves, rather than a standard component of the general structure of the plagues.

According to Rav Hirsch, the three plagues within each group correspond to the three areas in which the Egyptians oppressed the slaves. First, the Egyptians impressed upon Benei Yisrael their foreigner status. By subjecting them to sub-citizen status, the Egyptians ensured that Benei Yisrael would never feel at home in Egypt and would constantly experience the uneasiness and disorientation associated with residence in a foreign land. Secondly, the Egyptians stripped the Hebrew slaves of their pride and dignity, subjecting them to degrading labor and daily humiliation. Finally, the Egyptians are punished for the physical pain and suffering they inflicted upon Benei Yisrael.

The first plague in each group – blood, wild beasts and hail – transformed Egypt into a foreign land for its natives. Unquestionably the most prominent of Egypt's resources, which to a large extent lent the country its very definition and character, was the Nile River. Without the Nile, Egypt is an entirely different country. Hence the plague of blood, during which the Egyptians experienced – for the first time ever – life without this vital resource, effectively giving them the feeling of utter disorientation and, in a certain sense, displacement. In the first plague of the second group, the Egyptians' territory was violated by beasts that normally keep a distance from areas inhabited by men. This invasion transformed Egyptian towns and cities into jungles and forests, again undermining the people's sense of belonging and stability. Finally, the first plague of the third group, hail, marked a drastic and unprecedented change of climate. Rainstorms of any strength are rare in Egypt, not to mention violent hailstorms of this sort. Once again, the Egyptians suddenly found themselves in a foreign country, subject to climactic conditions they have never before known.

The second plague in each set, Rav Hirsch claimed, was aimed directly at the Egyptians' pride in their wealth and cultural achievements. Frogs are generally fearful of human beings and will quickly scurry into rivers and swamps at the first sign of human footsteps. But in Egypt, swarms of frogs marched freely en masse throughout the country's towns and cities, without any inhibition or concern. The unnatural ease felt by the frogs as they invaded the Egyptians' homes served as a source of humiliation to the otherwise arrogant Egyptian population, as if telling them that they cannot even intimidate a frog. The plague of pestilence, the second in the second series of plagues, affected Egypt's horses and cattle, which have always served as a symbol of their economic strength and power. Likewise, the locusts devoured their vegetation and crops, another hallmark of the country's prosperity for which it had always prided itself.

Finally, of course, the plagues of lice, boils and darkness afflicted the Egyptians physically. In these plagues they were made to experience physical suffering just as they had inflicted upon their slaves. Although the plague of darkness did not directly inflict pain, the Egyptians' inability to move about (10:23) obviously prevented them from getting food or water, such that they experienced the same pangs of hunger and parched throats suffered by their slaves for two centuries.

According to Rav Hirsch, then, the classification of "detzakh, adash, be'achav" highlights the three specific crimes committed by the Egyptians against their slaves,

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Towards the beginning of Parashat Bo, Moshe and Aharon warn Pharaoh of the impending plague of locusts. After Moshe leaves the palace, Pharaoh's courtiers plead with their king to allow Benei Yisrael to leave and thus spare the country further destruction. Pharaoh initially accepts their pleas and summons Moshe and Aharon back to the palace. He says, "Go worship the Lord your God; who are the ones to go?" (10:8). Moshe replies that since Benei Yisrael must go to "observe the Lord's festival," the nation in its entirety must leave Egypt – men, women and children. But Pharaoh outright refuses to allow the children to go: "No; you menfolk go and worship the Lord, since this is what you want" (10:11). The "negotiations" break down over this issue, and Moshe and Aharon are expelled from the palace.

What did Pharoah mean when he said, "since this is what you want"? At what point did Moshe give any indication that only the adult males must go worship God, while the women and children may stay behind in Egypt? Rashi explains that since Moshe requested permission for Benei Yisrael to leave to offer sacrifices, and women and children do not normally bring sacrifices, Moshe's request de facto becomes limited to the adult males. The question, however, remains, if Moshe never made any clear reference to this restriction, why did Pharaoh assume that the women and children need not participate?

The "Kometz Ha-mincha" is cited as explaining based on a startling comment in the Midrash concerning this verse. When Pharaoh initially expresses his offer to allow the slaves to leave, he asks Moshe, "Mi va-mi ha-holekhim," which is generally interpreted to mean, "Who are the ones to go?" A very literal reading of this phrase, however, will yield the following translation: "'Mi' and 'mi' ['who' and 'who'] are the ones going." Accordingly, the Midrash comments that Pharaoh refers to the two instances of the word "mi" ("who") in a verse in Sefer Tehillim (24:3): "Who may ascend the mountain of the Lord, and who may stand in His holy place?" The next verse responds that only "he who has clean hands and a pure heart" is qualified to "ascend the mountain of the Lord" and "stand in His holy place." Pharaoh alludes to Moshe that only those who meet the qualifications specified in Sefer Tehillim may participate in the festival Benei Yisrael were planning in the wilderness. "Mi va-mi" – only those included in the verse's response in Tehillim to the question of, "Who may ascend…" may take part in this celebration.

Pharaoh's reference to these verses, the "Kometz Ha-mincha" suggests, reflects his overall perspective on religious practice: it is not for everyone. Practical religious observance, in Pharaoh's view, is restricted to the clergy, to the spiritual elite. He never expected Moshe to reply, "We will all go, young and old; we will go with our sons and daughters, our flocks and herds" (10:9). He had thought that only "mi va-mi" – just a few groups among Benei Yisrael – would be obligated to go observe this festival. Pharaoh therefore responded to Moshe that at best, he would permit the male adults to leave. If religious worship is what the slaves are petitioning for, then there is no need for the entire nation to leave.

Judaism, of course, believes that to the contrary, God's message and laws apply to everyone, young and old, men and women, sons and daughters. True, certain rituals may be obligatory upon only certain groups, but the general dictates of the Torah unquestionably include every member of the Jewish people. And if the verse in Sefer Tehillim grants access to "the mountain of the Lord" only to those with "clean hands and a pure heart," it is because the Almighty expects all of us to keep our hands clean and our hearts pure. Herein lies the fundamental difference between Pharaoh and Moshe. Pharaoh believed that only the spiritual elite is required to abide by the standards described in this verse in Sefer Tehillim, whereas in Moshe's view, this standard is incumbent upon everyone – men and women, young and old, child and adult.

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Parashat Bo tells of the final three plagues that strike Egypt and result in Pharaoh's release of Benei Yisrael. Prior to the final plague – the death of the firstborn – God bids Moshe to speak to the people and prepare themselves for their departure. Among God's instructions to Moshe, we find the following verse: "Please tell the people that they should borrow – each man from his neighbor and each woman from hers – objects of silver and gold" (11:2). Benei Yisrael were to ask their neighbors and acquaintances for silver and gold utensils, so that these riches would be in their possession when the Egyptians drive them from the country in response to the plague of the firstborn.

Rashi, in his comments to this verse, cites a famous passage from Masekhet Berakhot (9a), where the Gemara addresses the seemingly superfluous word "na" ("please") in this verse. Why would God have to "plead" with Benei Yisrael to borrow gold and silver utensils? The Gemara explains that God made this request, as it were, "so that this tzadik [Avraham Avinu] won't say: He fulfilled for them [the prediction of] 'they shall be enslaved and oppressed,' but He did not fulfill for them [the subsequent prediction,] 'and in the end they shall go free with great wealth'." The Gemara here refers to the verses in Sefer Bereishit (15:13-14), where God informs Avraham of the exile and subjugation his descendants would suffer in a foreign land, from which they would ultimately emerge with great wealth. God pleaded with Benei Yisrael to borrow their neighbors' possessions and take them out of Egypt so that Avraham would not complain that God failed to carry out the second half of this prophecy – his descendants' acquisition of wealth.

Many writers throughout the ages have struggled to explain this enigmatic passage. If, indeed, God promised Avraham that his descendants will emerge as a wealthy nation, then why was He concerned only with Avraham's objections? Shouldn't He fulfill His promises regardless of the patriarch's protests?

Rav Menachem Ben-Tzion Zaks, in his "Menachem Tziyon," suggests an explanation by first analyzing the use of the term "tzadik" in this context. Very rarely – if at all, other than in this passage – do we find Chazal referring to Avraham Avinu with this title. Rav Zaks contends that the key to understanding this Gemara lies in the particular connotation of the word "tzadik" in reference to Avraham. A verse in Sefer Tehillim (45:8), which the Midrash (Shemot Rabba 49:20) explains as describing Avraham, says, "You love righteousness and hate wickedness." The Midrash there explains this verse as follows: "You loved to exonerate My [God's] creatures, and you… refused to find them guilty." Avraham's unique characteristic, at least as expressed in this Midrash, was his insistence on finding admirable qualities within everybody. This is most clearly demonstrated by his impassioned plea on behalf of the corrupt city of Sedom. Avraham refused to condemn even the wicked, preferring instead to find some basis for their vindication.

It is to this unique quality of Avraham, perhaps, that the Gemara refers in describing him as a "tzadik," and this quality forms the basis of God's request to Benei Yisrael, as described in the Gemara. In truth, Benei Yisrael had forfeited their right to the wealth of Egypt by virtue of their steady spiritual decline during the period of exile. As we discussed several days ago, the prophet Yechezkel (chapter 20) tells that God ordered Benei Yisrael in Egypt (presumably through Moshe) to abandon idolatry and return to the monotheistic faith of their forefathers. But they refused, and God initially planned to destroy them there in Egypt. It was only to prevent a "chilul Hashem" (desecration of God's Name) that God decided to spare them and release them from bondage. Clearly, however, Benei Yisrael were not deserving of wealth and honor. It was only due to the special quality of Avraham Avinu that God decided to nonetheless grant them the fortunes of Egypt. God knew that Avraham would argue on his descendants' behalf that despite their embrace of idolatrous beliefs and practices, they did suffer two centuries of persecution. If God fulfilled for them the prophecy of slavery and oppression, then He must in turn see to it that they leave with great wealth, as well. It was thus the unique quality of Avraham Avinu – who would always defend and plead on behalf of everyone – that made it possible for Benei Yisrael to receive the wealth of Egypt as they left to freedom.

This understanding of the Gemara should perhaps remind us to judge and assess others in the same manner in which we ourselves would like to be judged and assessed. If we ask for compassion and understanding when we stand trial before the Heavenly Tribunal, then we must follow the approach of Avraham Avinu, who defended and appealed on behalf of everyone, despite their seeming unworthiness.

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Yesterday, we discussed God's command to Moshe (11:2) to instruct Benei Yisrael on the eve of the Exodus to ask their Egyptian neighbors and acquaintances for expensive utensils. Egypt's wealth would thus be in Benei Yisrael's possession when they are driven from the country, and they will have thus won not only their freedom, but their former oppressors' fortunes, as well. As Rashi explains (based on the Midrash), this accumulation of wealth served as a fulfillment of God's promise to Avraham (Bereishit 15:14) that after the centuries of enslavement and suffering, his descendants will emerge from exile with immense wealth.

Later in the parasha, we read of Benei Yisrael's compliance with God's command. As part of the narrative of Benei Yisrael's departure from Egypt, the Torah writes, "The Israelites had done Moshe's bidding and borrowed from the Egyptians objects of silver and gold, and clothing. And the Lord had disposed the Egyptians favorably toward the people, and they let them have their request" (12:36).

Rashi, commenting on the words, "Moshe's bidding," writes, "that he said to them in Egypt, 'that they should borrow – each man from his neighbor'." At first glance, Rashi here appears to clarify for us to which "bidding" of Moshe the Torah here refers. Rashi explains that this refers to Moshe's command in God's Name before the Exodus that the people should borrow gold and silver from their Egyptian neighbors. The problem with this reading of Rashi's comments, of course, is that this verse itself makes it abundantly clear what "Moshe's bidding" was, telling us explicitly that Benei Yisrael "borrowed from the Egyptians objects of silver and gold… " Why did Rashi find it necessary to refer us to the earlier verse, where God's conveys this instruction to Moshe? Isn't it obvious that the Torah here refers to that command?

The Vilna Gaon, as cited in "Kol Eliyahu," suggests a novel and ingenious interpretation of Rashi's comments, which sheds new light not only on Rashi's remarks, but also on the story of the Exodus in general. Significantly, Rashi here does not cite the entire verse that records God's instructions to Moshe. He rather cites one very brief segment: "that they should borrow – each man from his neighbor." According to the Gaon, these words indicate that the verse describes an entirely different "borrowing" than what the Torah describes here, in recording Benei Yisrael's compliance. The earlier verse speaks of Benei Yisrael borrowing "each man from 're'ehu' [literally, 'his neighbor']," whereas here, the Torah tells that they borrowed "from the Egyptians." The Gemara in Masekhet Bava Kama (37b) establishes that the word "re'ehu" refers specifically to another member of Benei Yisrael, as opposed to a non-Jew. Thus, when the Torah introduces the laws of liability when one person's animal kills the animal of another, it states, "When a man's ox injures the ox of 're'ehu'" (Shemot 21:35) – referring only to cases where one Jew's animal injures another Jew's animal. These laws do not apply to cases where a Jew's animal damages that of a gentile. It follows, then, that when God orders each member of Benei Yisrael to borrow utensils from "re'ehu," it means that he should borrow from another member of Benei Yisrael. In the first verse, then, God instructs Benei Yisrael to borrow from one another, whereas here, in describing the Exodus, the Torah tells of the second stage – that Benei Yisrael borrowed from the Egyptians.

The Vilna Gaon explained that Benei Yisrael had to first borrow from one another in order to earn the trust and favor of the Egyptians. Once the Egyptians observed the mutual friendship and camaraderie displayed by the Hebrew slaves, Benei Yisrael won their esteem and admiration, such that when it came time for Benei Yisrael to ask the Egyptians to borrow their belongings, the Egyptians happily consented. The Torah therefore emphasizes that "the Lord had disposed the Egyptians favorably toward the people, and they let them have their request." Benei Yisrael had earned the Egyptians' respect and admiration by first having borrowed "each from his neighbor" – from his fellow Jew.

If the Vilna Gaon's approach is correct, then it turns out that Benei Yisrael had to do more to earn their redemption then we might have otherwise concluded. It is often assumed that, as several Midrashim indicate, Benei Yisrael were bereft of merits on the basis of which to earn redemption, and God therefore instructed them with regard to the mitzva of the Pesach offering on the eve of the Exodus. According to the Vilna Gaon, however, Benei Yisrael had to do more: they had to actively involve themselves in chesed (kindness) and do favors for one another. This, too, was a prerequisite for their release from bondage. They were ordered to not only recommit themselves to God by disavowing their devotion to Egyptian paganism (through the offering of the korban pesach), but also recommit themselves to one another, by lending, giving, helping and assisting their fellow slaves.

Earlier in Sefer Shemot, we read that Moshe tried to prevent a Hebrew slave from striking his fellow, but the slave retorted, "Do you mean to kill me as you killed the Egyptian?" (2:14). Moshe fearfully exclaims, "Indeed the matter is known!" While the simple reading of the verse is that Moshe here discovers that he was seen the previous day killing an Egyptian taskmaster, Rashi cites a different interpretation from the Midrash. Moshe had wondered why Benei Yisrael deserved to be subjected to such hardship and suffering; now, when he sees two Hebrew slaves fighting and realizes that one of them has reported his killing of the Egyptian to the authorities, he declares, "the matter is known." He now understood why God had allowed Benei Yisrael to suffer such persecution.

Appropriately, then, before Benei Yisrael could earn redemption, they must improve their conduct towards one another. God orders them to overcome their differences and begin working together, as a united people with a unified purpose.

This claim of the Vilna Gaon, that Benei Yisrael had to perform chesed for one another to earn redemption, appears to have an explicit source in the Midrash. The Tanna De-bei Eliyahu (23) writes, "When Yisrael were in Egypt, they all assembled and sat together…and together they made a pact that they would perform kindness for one another and observe in their hearts the covenant of Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov… " This passage clearly points to two distinct resolutions that Benei Yisrael collectively agreed upon in Egypt: to commit themselves to chesed, and to the spiritual heritage of the patriarchs. The combination of these two components – the people's rededication to each other and to the beliefs of their ancestors – were necessary prerequisites for their redemption. Only once Am Yisrael both rejected Egyptian paganism and committed themselves to offering a helping hand to one another, were they worthy of being freed from Egypt to become God's people.

(See Rav Binyamin Yudin's "Chessed: Life Assurance That Offers Life Insurance," at www.torahweb.org/torah/2003/parsha/ryud_bo.html.)

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Over the last two days, we have discussed God's command to Benei Yisrael just before the Exodus (11:2) that they should borrow gold and silver utensils from the Egyptians, so that the Egyptians' wealth would be in their possession at the time of the Exodus. Benei Yisrael would thus leave Egypt as wealthy people, in fulfillment of the Almighty's promise to Avraham that his descendants would emerge from bondage with great wealth (Bereishit 15:14). As we saw yesterday, the Vilna Gaon claimed that Benei Yisrael were to first borrow utensils from one another, thereby displaying their newfound unity and sense of mutual devotion to one another. This would earn them the respect and admiration of their former oppressors, who then gladly lent their belongings to their former slaves, whom they have now come to hold in high esteem.

Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch, in his commentary to this parasha, also claims that Benei Yisrael had to win the respect of the Egyptians before requesting to borrow their gold and silver utensils. Unlike the Vilna Gaon, however, Rav Hirsch asserts that this respect and admiration resulted not from Benei Yisrael's display of generosity and selflessness towards one another, but from the honesty and integrity with which they treated their oppressors. God's command to the people to borrow the Egyptians' belongings occurred immediately following the ninth plague – the plague of darkness. Now the Torah states explicitly that during the period of darkness that engulfed the Egyptians, they could not even move about, and, furthermore, that the darkness did not affect Benei Yisrael at all (10:23). One would have expected that slaves in such a situation would storm their tormentors' homes and businesses and seize all their possessions. (In modern times, looting is unfortunately a natural consequence of large-scale power failures. We can only imagine what would happen if during a blackout, a group of two million downtrodden and oppressed people were not affected at all and had unbridled access to the property of the upper classes!) And yet, not a single Hebrew slave thought to take advantage of the darkness and rob their taskmasters' homes. When the plague ended and the sun finally shone, the Egyptians were astonished to discover all their belongings in place and their homes, shops and warehouses fully intact. At this point, for the first time in two centuries, the Egyptians looked upon the Hebrews – whom until now they had relegated to subhuman status and subjected to animal-like bondage – with awe and admiration. It is to this respect that the verse refers when it tells, "The Lord disposed the Egyptians favorably toward the people. Moreover, Moshe himself was much esteemed in the land of Egypt…" (11:2-3). At long last, Rav Hirsch writes, the Egyptians' recognition of Benei Yisrael's moral greatness overcame their feelings of hatred and hostility. And this recognition led them to now look upon Moshe himself, the leader of this nation, with newfound respect. In Rav Hirsch's words, "This moral greatness on the part of his people, more than all the miracles he performed, made the man Moshe great in the eyes of the Egyptians."

Rav Hirsch adds that these feelings of respect lay at the heart of God's promise to Avraham that his descendants will return from exile with wealth. God here promises Avraham's progeny something far more critical than gold and silver; He assures them the restoration of their respect and dignity, that their oppressors will, once and for all, affirm their moral superiority. The nation that had looked upon them with contempt and disgust will now regard them as ethically superior.

Thus, according to Rav Hirsch, the moral victory of the Exodus was scored even before the plague of the firstborn, the paschal sacrifice, and Pharaoh's dramatic release of his slaves. It occurred immediately with the end of the plague of darkness, when the Egyptians came to realize the moral stature of the people whom they had oppressed and humiliated for so long. All that remained was to force Pharaoh to finally set Benei Yisrael free, a goal that was achieved with the tenth of final plague –the death of the firstborn.

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Parashat Bo tells of the ninth plague that struck Egypt – the plague of darkness. Rav Barukh Ha-levi Epstein, in his "Torah Temima," raises two difficulties regarding the "mechanics," if you will, of this supernatural occurrence. Firstly, when God informs Moshe of the impending plague, He adds the phrase, "ve-yamesh choshekh" (10:21). According to the Midrashim, this means that the darkness had substance to it, such that it could actually be felt. In fact, the Midrashim (Shemot Rabba 14:1; Tanchuma) ascribe a measurement of thickness to the darkness, claiming that it was as thick as a "dinar." How, asks the Torah Temima, could darkness be said to contain actual substance? Secondly, if, indeed, the sun and other luminaries were not functional in Egypt throughout this period, this plague would mark a fundamental deviation from the natural order of days and seasons. Seemingly, this would violate God's promise after the deluge, "So long as the earth endures, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night shall not cease" (Bereishit 8:22). How could God suspend the natural sequence of day and night, which He promised to maintain so long as the earth endures?

These questions led the Torah Temima to suggest – albeit with some ambivalence – a revolutionary theory regarding the nature of the plague of darkness. He claims that this plague affected not the atmosphere in Egypt, but rather the people's eyes. God smote the Egyptians with a form of cataracts – some kind of substance that developed within the pupil and obstructed vision. And, the Torah Temima adds, it is to this substance that the Midrashim refer when they ascribe a dimension of width to the darkness. This substance that covered the pupil, he claims, measured a "dinar" in width. This obviously spares us the need to justify the violation of the day-night pattern that God promised mankind to sustain for all time.

Rav Menachem Kasher, in his "Torah Sheleima" (vol. 10, appendix 1), cites and strongly rejects this theory posed by the Torah Temima. He accuses the Torah Temima of writing these comments "as he was lying down, falling asleep" and argues that "he did not look into the matter at all." Rav Kasher writes, "How strange it is to invent from one's own mind miracles that never occurred and were never brought into being, and to contradict the tradition and all the words of our earlier sages." From the numerous sources cited by Rav Kasher, two basic approaches emerge as to how the plague of darkness came into being. One theory, which Rav Kasher (in Shemot, chapter 10, note 62) cites in the name of the Reshash, claims that God inserted some substance in between heaven and earth to block to sun's rays from reaching the affected regions of Egypt. In fact, the Gemara in Masekhet Chagiga (12b), as understood by Rashi, describes a "vilon" (literally, "curtain") that God spreads over the earth at nighttime, thus causing darkness, and withdraws in the morning so that the sun could shine. Conceivably, then, the plague of darkness resulted from God's allowing this "vilon" to remain in place even in the morning. Alternatively, some sources speak of a thick, dark cloud and mist that descended upon Egypt, which had thickness and substance to it. This would also explain why the Egyptians could not overcome this plague by lighting candles and torches; the mist and fog were so thick that any flame would immediately be extinguished. Among other sources, Rav Kasher cites the historical accounts of Philo and Josephus which appear to describe this kind of phenomenon. We should note that Philo also mentions a powerful wind that continued blowing throughout the plague and prevented the Egyptians from lighting fires.

In any event, Rav Kasher argues that these two understandings of the plague of darkness obviate the need to resort to novel theories concerning this plague, as the one suggested by the Torah Temima.

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We noted yesterday the somewhat ambiguous phrase used by the Torah in Parashat Bo in describing the plague of darkness: "ve-yamesh choshekh." The Vilna Gaon, as cited in "Kol Eliyahu," translated this phrase as, "the darkness shall move aside" the light. In the early stages of creation, God ordained that at the specified time light shall give way to darkness, and then, when the appropriate time comes, the darkness will once again give way to light. During this plague, however, the darkness moved aside the light when the light would have ordinarily come to take the darkness' place over Egypt.

In the context of this discussion, the Gaon notes that this verse can help resolve the classic, fundamental question as to the nature of darkness, whether it constitutes an independent, natural phenomenon, or merely signifies the absence of light. Meaning, can we speak of darkness as an actual entity, or is it only a description of the state of being when light is not present? The Gaon strongly argues in favor of the former possibility, that darkness constitutes an independent entity. This verse – according to the Gaon's interpretation – provides convincing proof to this effect. The image of darkness "moving aside" light and taking its place clearly presumes the independent existence of darkness, that it does not merely signify the absence of light.

Rav Chanoch Henich Erzahn, who compiled and edited the "Kol Eliyahu," adds to these comments of the Gaon a brief discussion of this issue concerning the essential definition of darkness. He cites further proof to the Gaon's position from a passage at the beginning of Masekhet Pesachim (2a), where the Gemara suggests a novel interpretation of the fifth verse of the Torah: "va-yikra Elokim la-or yom, ve-la-choshekh kara layla." This verse is generally translated as, "God called the light 'day,' and the darkness He called 'night'." The Gemara notes, however, that the opening mishna of Masekhet Pesachim refers to nighttime with the term "or" ("light"), which, according to the verse, is the term used in reference to daytime. To resolve this difficulty, the Gemara suggests the following reading of the verse: "God called unto light and assigned it over the daytime, and He called unto darkness and assigned it over the nighttime." Clearly, the Gemara here speaks of light and dark as two separate, independent entities, rather than viewing one as but the absence of the other.

Rav Erzahn cites further proof to this effect from a comment of Talmidei Rabbenu Yona in Masekhet Berakhot, which the Shulchan Arukh cites in Orach Chayim (59:1). As we know, in the berakhot recited before the shema both in the morning and evening, we give praise to the Almighty for the phenomenon of the day-night cycle. Interestingly, Halakha requires mentioning darkness and light both in the nighttime and morning prayers. While one may have thought to praise God for light in the morning and for darkness by night, Halakha mandates that we make mention of both phenomena in the morning as well as in the evening. Talmidei Rabbenu Yona explain that we do this in order to dispel the heretical notion that lightness and dark are controlled by two different, competing deities. By praising God for light at nighttime, and for darkness in the morning, we emphasize the point that He Himself is the sole Creator of both phenomena. Rav Erzahn argues that if we would not consider darkness anything more than the absence of light, one could not possibly have entertained this heretical notion. Only if darkness exists independently could one imagine a separate deity controlling this natural force. Necessarily, then, Halakha considers darkness its own entity and thus found it necessary to mandate clarifying that both light and dark are under the exclusive domain of the single Creator.

Rav Erzahn concludes by citing one source that explicitly describes darkness as the mere absence of light. The Gemara in Masekhet Berakhot (60b) presents the text of the berakha of "asher yatzar," recited after one performs his bodily functions. The Tur, in his discussion of this berakha (O.C. 6), notes that some editions of the Talmud contain a text of the berakha that reads, "u-vara vo nekavim nekavim, chalalim chalalim…" ("and created in him [man] many holes and many cavities"). The Tur argues that this version is incorrect, and this phrase should read, "chalulim chalulim" ("hollow organs") rather than "chalalim chalalim"("cavities"). The Bet Yosef explains that the Tur dismissed the variant text because one cannot speak of God "creating" cavities. A cavity is not actually created; it rather results naturally from the creation of matter around it. The Tur therefore opted for the text according to which we praise God for creating "hollow organs," rather than "cavities." The Bach, however, challenges the Bet Yosef's explanation of the Tur on the basis of the well known verse in Sefer Yeshayahu (45:7), in which the prophet describes God as "creating darkness," and darkness, the Bach claims, "is nothing but the absence of light." The Bet Yosef clearly felt otherwise, that darkness constitutes an independent entity, thus justifying the prophet's reference to the "creation" of darkness.