This is the conclusion of Part 1: An End to Evil
Early Wednesday, the 14th of Nissan 5783, I went to do a siyum (the public completion of a certain amount of Torah learning) and burn my chametz where I usually do. I typically do a siyum as I’m a firstborn, and, trust me, you don’t want to come into Pesach while fasting.
I had planned my schedule tightly (time was not time because I was running late, of course; clearly, it couldn’t be) so I would arrive 5 minutes before the congregation would be ready to hear me complete Seder Kodashim. I had planned to walk on the way there, but, after setting foot outside, realized it was raining heavily.
Not just raining heavily, but raining freezing rain. Uh-oh.
Thanks to the use of (I assume) accelerants, the chametz fires were still burning bright and high when I finally arrived. I threw in mine, went into the shul, and did my siyum. I then spent the next few hours working and helping the shul prepare for the chag.
Coming out around noon, the rain had gotten worse. Already, I had to start avoiding fallen branches in the streets. By the time I made the short walk home, I was completely soaked from the knees downward (and that was without jumping in puddles or singing happy refrains).
Anyway, time to get on with it, finish koshering what I had to kosher, launder all of my clothes and get ready for the chag.
And that’s when I lost power.
At first, I thought it was just my apartment/bloc and that power would return soon. It was too dark to do much of anything, my clothes were locked in the machine mid-wash, and I did not have to prepare anything for the sedarim as I was invited for all the meals. You might as well make lemonade or, in that case, might as well take a nap. When your Pesach Sedarim usually ends at 4:30 am and 5:30 am respectively, catching a couple of hours in the afternoon prior is never a bad idea. After all, I could always catch up on prep later; how long could it possibly take before the power would be back on?
It turns out the answer was “Four days” for most.
Pesach: Seder by Candlelight
By the time it was time to daven Mincha, it was clear we wouldn’t be getting power back. Harkening back to the days of covid, people started to organize house prayer groups (at some point, a police car drove by with its lights on, and someone quipped we were about to get a fine). We prayed Arvit, sang the Great Hallel, then sat down for the Seder as others braved the weather and walked back home.
We lit even more candles, prepared whatever food we had to prepare, and started the Seder. Turns out there were some sterno cans left over from a lechaim, so we wouldn’t even need to eat our food cold! We started the Seder and…
It was pretty amazing, considering. We finished slightly earlier than usual, finishing the grace after meal past 3:00 am instead of the standard past 3:30 am (there are ways to continue the meal past chatzot, not going to get into a halachic discussion but consult the Nitei Gavriel on the subject, if interested).
The next day, the same scenario unfolded. Then, providentially, a few hours before Shabbat, electricity came back. Right in time to ensure people had hot food on Shabbat as well. For others, electricity would only come back on Sunday; as for me, thanks to being in close proximity to a significant geriatric center, I only lost it for about 12 hours.
It wasn’t just a magical time, of course. We had to shlep food around to my freezer and the synagogue’s freezer so it wouldn’t spoil, and we shlepped frozen water bottles back to use as ice packs for whatever was left. During the second Seder, an aluminum pan filled with candles caught fire, and we had to bring it outside so it would extinguish by itself. The house had started to fill with black smoke, and we had to open all the windows and doors despite the freezing cold to air it out. It created a lot of stress for a lot of people, especially for so many women who spent so many hours getting ready for the chag, and yet, it also revealed something incredible:
Everyone I spoke to enjoyed themselves at their respective sedarim.
Of the dozens of people I spoke to then and since, I only heard one person complain about it, and, in his own words, he doesn’t like Pesach or the Seder at all, so it’s quite likely he would have complained either way.
Everyone else described how much they enjoyed sitting with their family, talking about the Seder, illuminated only by flickering candles, making do with what they could regarding food. In many ways, they appreciated it more than the regular Pesach Seder.
The Power of Faith
By Chassidim, we say, “Tracht gut, vet zein gut.” Think good, and it will be good.
Think about how easy it would have been for a sizeable portion of our community to react angrily or, at the very least, be displeased with how things turned out. Yet, everyone accepted what happened and rolled with it. Not just rolled with it, but found a way to make something that was a freak occurrence into something meaningful.
It’s true that, in a sense, the Divine Providence seemed more revealed than usual. Power cuts for maintenance had been planned during the first night of Pesach but were canceled at the last moment due to outcry from the community. You had months and months and months to do maintenance, but you need to shut off electricity for hours on the very first night of Passover in mainly Jewish neighborhoods?
This horribly mistimed decision was reversed the day before Pesach began. And then not only did we lose electricity right before the holiday (my Rav’s house, where I customarily eat all meals, literally lost it as they were lightning the candles to usher in Pesach), but for the majority, it was restored with just enough time to ensure that the food for Shabbat would be hot and ready and that no food would end up being spoiled. That freak icy rain storm had to “coincide” perfectly with a three-day festival while still allowing us the convenience of avoiding significant losses and food preparation not being impaired for the most part.
I suppose it made it easy for most to accept it as a Divine decree and try to make the best of the situation. Still, making the best of that situation didn’t have to involve enjoying it. Not just Chassidim but everyone I spoke to from any background. Nary a complaint; everyone was focused on just how much of a great time they had and how much more connected they felt to the long chain of tradition to our ancestors back to the very first Seder. After all, until 5 minutes ago in relation to Jewish history, weren’t all sedarim recited by candlelight anyway? What upheld everyone’s simcha in the face of what happened was faith.
Yet, there is faith, and there is faith. There's the intellectual knowledge that, yes, G-d exists, and yes, everything happens through Him, and then there's the much more profound understanding that reaches the core of your being. In traditional terms, we speak of Emunah (faith) and Bitachon (trust). In Chassidic terms, we could talk of Binah and Daat.
The Chabad of Chabad Lubavitch comes from the acronym of CHochma Binah Daat. To explain the concept succinctly:
Chochmah represents the capability of intellectual comprehension of a subject. Binah represents the detailed understanding of a subject in all of its facets Daat represents the integration of this subject into your very being.
The simplest way to describe the mechanism of chochma is for you to remember the last time you faced a problem and had a 'Eureka!' moment and figured out the solution. That initial flash of insight where you know you've figured out the answer (even though you have yet to flesh it out to yourself fully) that's the power of chochma.
The next step comes when you understand an idea's breadth, width, and depth; when you know something back and forth, up and down, left and right. There's no facet of it left for you to apprehend. You've grasped it entirely within your mind.
Daat is when you turn that knowledge into second nature.
Now, to explain the concept practically:
Take a cigarette smoker. Everyone is fully cognizant that smoking makes it far more likely for one to become sick, G-d forbid. There's no need for me to list all the unfavorable side effects that can affect a regular smoker; it's such common knowledge that anyone above grade 2 could rattle them off in their sleep.
So, if smokers know all of those things, why do they keep smoking?
That's because the reality of smoking is still in the realm of Binah for them and has yet to come into Daat. If they were to truly meditate on the subject and look at all of the drawbacks versus the positives, they would immediately attempt to stop. Since they have yet to take the time to do so, they continue. This is true of any bad habit, behavior trait, and sinful behavior we engage in.
If we were to honestly examine our actions and the negative impacts these things have on our lives, we would reach a point where we'd internalize that truth so deeply we'd have to come to a stop.
This examination is often called doing a cheshbon (accounting) or hitbonenut (meditation/contemplation). Something our Sages recommended we do daily.
An Attitude Adjustment
This extremely powerful tool is not simply to get rid of the negative parts inside of us but can also be used to reshape who we are as a person. A habitually negative person can use this process to rewire their brain into becoming a positive person. Someone who is a pessimist into being an optimist. Someone who judges others into someone who is not judgmental. The list goes on and on.
The process is straightforward; sticking to it is much more challenging.
Some psychologists might refer to something like this as behavioral therapy, but it's been at the core of Judaism since its inception. And it works with everyone. For any lousy trait you want to eliminate, you can start learning parts of Torah about its negative impact on you. Keep learning them repeatedly and sitting and meditating on your studies daily on them, even if only for 5 minutes, until you start seeing changes. The key is consistency. By doing the work every day, changes will come. The more effort, the more significant and quicker the changes, but doing the work daily and keeping it at the forefront of your mind is still the most important.
The inverse is also true: for any good trait you want to attain, you can learn parts of Torah about their positive impact, learn about them over and over again, and meditate on them.
When it comes to the kind of optimism where you can turn a four-day blackout in the middle of a holiday into a positive experience, this comes through reinforcing your faith and, first and foremost, building up your trust in G-d.
While it's out of the scope of this article to discuss how to do this, the Lubavitcher Rebbe was wont to suggest to those with a weakness in Bitachon a straightforward solution: to learn the book called Shaar HaBitachon (The Gate of Trust in G-d) three or four times at least.
The entire book, alongside a Chassidic commentary, is available for free online. There are also wonderful lectures discussing it in depth and its applications in our daily lives, also available for free.
So, roll up your sleeves, get rid of the negativity in your life, and reshape yourself to be the best person you can be. It doesn't need to be drastic; just figure out one thing you'd like to improve or stop doing and start there. Before long, you'll be surprised just how much you can achieve.