Let There Be Light

Rabbi Yechiel Spero

As Refael and Chani Mendlowitz were flying over Connecticut on their return trip from Eress Yisrael, they sensed that something was terribly wrong. The stewardesses were whispering and running to the front of the cabin. What the passengers didn’t know was that most of the Northeastern United States was in the same panic; a huge blackout had struck many states, and most citizens were sure that this was another terrorist attack.

The passengers’ frantic attempts to contact relatives proved futile as cell phones were rendered utterly useless. The initial fear lasted only a short while, until they received word of what had happened and were assured that most likely terrorism was not involved. The more immediate problem was landing the plane without any guidance from on-ground lighting.

At first, airport traffic control intended to divert their El Al flight to Washington D.C., and while that was certainly closer to where the Mendlowitzes lived – Silver Spring – it did not help them because their car was in New York at a relative’s home, awaiting their return. In the end, the passengers were told that theirs would be the last plane allowed to land at Kennedy Airport.

Once they landed, they were informed that airport security would not allow them to disembark for at least an hour. Hot, anxious, and very thirsty, they were finally released into a darkened airport, where finding their luggage was quite an adventure. Tired and exhausted, they finally exited the terminal and attempted to get a cab. And then the full impact of what had happened hit them. It was an eerie, discomforting sight: All of New York was pitch black. No street lights. No building lights. Nothing!

The taxi line stretched for blocks, and since all traffic in the area was slowed due to the lack of traffic lights, they realized that they would be waiting for a cab for hours. While they were pondering their next move, a shuttle bus pulled up, offering to take them where they needed to go for $18, a bargain compared to the $100 the taxis had been charging.

They were completely exhausted as they settled in for the short drive. When they reached their relative’s home, they paid the kind driver and thanked him for his assistance. But when Refael tried the key he realized it did not fit; either he had been given the wrong key or had misplaced the right one. Now what would they do? It was midnight of this never-ending day, and they were at their wits’ end. It was then that they noticed a car parked down the street with people in it. Maybe these people live on this street and will let me in so that I can make a few phone calls, he thought.

Refael cautiously approached the car. The sight that he beheld brought tears to his eyes. Inside were two men – a father and his son – learning together. They had a set time for their learning, and were determined not to let the blackout change their plans. They had decided that learning in a car, however dimly lit it was, was better than canceling. As for Refael, these men were a sight for sore eyes; and of course, they were more than happy to help the desperate couple.

For a long time afterwards Refael could not get the sight of this father and son out of his mind. Imagine, he thought to himself, in a world of utter darkness, a tiny light shines through like a beacon – the light of Torah.

“Ki ner misvah veTorah ohr – A misvah is a candle, and Torah is light.”(Touched by a Story 3)

Reprinted from the Parashat Noach 5787 email of Rabbi David Bibi’s Shabbat Shalom from Cyberspace.