The entire incident was bizarre. There was no logical explanation for it. It was not an act of terror, but rather, an open manifestation of our vulnerability. Anyone who has given thought to the events of the last few days must stand humbled and conclude that despite all our technology and scientific know-how, we remain totally helpless, victims of human error. In a matter of seconds, entire cities, from New York to the Mid-West can become paralyzed. What lesson can be gleaned from the power failure and the darkness that enveloped us?

Late Thursday afternoon, when the power went down, I was on my way to Manhattan to celebrate the Sheva Brochas (series of seven festive dinners following weddings) of my granddaughter and her chossen (bridegroom) at our Hineni Heritage Center in Manhattan. Traffic lights failed, intersections became blocked; there was gridlock everywhere, but amazingly, despite the confusion, calmness reigned. Civilians took it upon themselves to direct traffic, and even as on 9/11, New Yorkers once again proved themselves to be courteous and considerate. This, in contrast to the 1977 blackout, when mobs converged on the streets to pillage, break windows, and steal everything in sight.

Subways came to a halt, streams of dazed people spilled into the oppressively hot streets, taxis and busses were hard to come by. Some had to walk six to eight hours to reach their destinations and many restaurants most generously put up signs to announce that free drinks and the use of their facilities were available.

Baruch HaShem, we arrived at our building without mishap, and an unusual sight greeted us. The caterer and his staff had brought out chairs and were seated on the sidewalk, a scene that was duplicated in the surrounding buildings. Memories came back of a time gone by, prior to the advent of air-conditioning, when, to escape the heat of their apartments, people sat on their stoops and chatted with their neighbors while their children played stoop ball.

“What should we do?” the caterer asked, “do you think anyone will show up?”
“Of course,” I assured him. “Sheva Brochas must go on, and with HaShem’s help, people will come.”

Our building was pitch black and there was no power for the caterer to cook, but when it comes to fulfilling a mitzvah, if you will it, things always work out. We groped in the darkness and found boxes of Shabbos candles which lit up the room, and tea lights which we placed into glasses to light the stairs, and our caterer drew upon all his ingenuity to cook a wonderful dinner on warmers fueled by cans of sterno.

The Sheva Brochas had been called for 7:30, but that time came and went and no one appeared. Finally, at 8:30, my children were able to get through on their cell phones and assured me that they, the machatunim, and the chossen/kallah were on their way and despite the closing of bridges and tunnels into Manhattan and the heavy gridlock, they would somehow get through.

While we waited, we too joined our sidewalk crew and offered refreshments to passers-by. In the back of my mind however, as the clock ticked away, I became more and more concerned about getting a minyan. My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the voice of a young man - “Is there a class tonight, Rebbetzin?”

His question, in and of itself, was amazing. This was a night when everyone was rushing to return to the safety of their homes as soon as possible. HaShem is sending us someone to help make a minyan, I said to myself.

We’re not having a class,” I told him, “but tonight, you have an opportunity to do a mitzvah. You can stay with us and help make a minyan..” To his credit, he agreed, and patiently waited from 8:00 until 9:15 PM, when chossen/kallah, family members, uncles, friends and yet another passer-by joined us enabling us to begin the celebration. Instead of the seventy guests that we had originally invited, we ended up twenty five strong. Twenty five is the Hebrew word for “Koh” - meaning “Thus shall You bless”, and the blessing we felt that evening was awesome. There was an incredible warmth and love flowing in the room - a warmth and love that is reflective of the faith of our people, who throughout the millennia, have managed to find illumination even in the densest darkness by kindling the light of Torah and mitzvos.

Our Shabbos Sheva Brochos also started off traumatically. Our entire family had been scheduled to be hosted by the parents of the Kallah who reside in Flatbush, Brooklyn (one of the last neighborhoods to have energy restored). At around 2:30 AM, power returned to the Long Island community in which I reside, and late as it was, I called my daughter to tell her the good news, assuring her that it could only be a matter of a few hours until they had power in Flatbush as well. But it didn’t happen that way. The morning sun rose and beat down mercilessly, the temperature kept rising, the heat was unbearable, and relief was nowhere in sight. Not only did the power in Flatbush not return, but there was no water either. Eighty guests had been invited and, without utilities, there was no way that the caterer or anyone else could make it happen. The Shabbos celebration appeared to be turning into a total disaster.

Two of my children, who live near me, suggested that the Sheva Brochos be moved to our community. Now mind you, they had no Shabbos food in their homes since everyone had planned to be in Brooklyn, and no caterer could be found who would undertake the job. It was a race against the Shabbos clock, but miraculously, they got it all together. Feverish shopping ensued, tables, chairs and glassware were quickly ordered; wonderful friends came to help; my grandchildren worked without pause, and incredibly, a caterer was found who saw this as an opportunity for chesed and kindly offered to help. Whatever he could not supply, my children cooked and baked themselves. Accommodations were found for all the guests, and in no time at all, a magnificent Sheva Brochos, fit for royalty, was in place.

How was it done? How was something, which normally takes weeks of planning, accomplished in just a few hours?

The answer is simple. It can be found in one magical Hebrew word - achdus - unity - oneness. When everyone does his share and more, and gives of him/herself, then the impossible can be realized. So, when there is a power failure and darkness descends, let’s not panic. Rather, let us remember that we, the Jewish people, have a greater power at our command.- we can banish the darkness by kindling lights of Torah, lights of mitzvos, and we can accomplish the impossible by reaching out to one another in ahavas Yisroel, brotherly love.

The above is a reflection of my personal experiences during the power failure of 5763 - 2003, but nothing happens capriciously. There are no random occurrences, and I believe that within this power failure there is a spiritual wake up call challenging all of us, and please G-d, I shall address it in a future column.