My father and my brother both died at 61 of the heart condition that I also inherited. I am not going to die of that condition.
My mother died at 63 of cancer. I had cancer. I didn’t die.
Yesterday I turned 63 years and 3 months. I have outlived my family of origin.
Almost a year ago, I realized that this date had profound meaning for me. I overcame my worry that it was too morbid an idea and decided instead that it was time to celebrate the enormous blessings of my abundant life: a loving family, loyal friends, meaningful work and good health.
I planned to celebrate Hanukkah Shabbat with a family dinner with our kids and grandboys to mark the auspicious date. I planned the menu with my kids’ favorites and got the groceries. On Wednesday morning, I started my chicken soup.
That’s as far as I got.
In Yiddish, the saying goes: Der mensch tracht un Gott lacht. Humans plan and God laughs.
That’s how it felt last night as I lay in flu-induced fever and exhaustion, listening to the chatter and laughter of Shabbat dinner downstairs. How ironic that I was celebrating good health and long life by spending every moment since Wednesday morning horizontal in my bed, except for a visit to the doctor and a stop for a Covid PCR (negative).
My daughter, Sarah, told me on Friday morning to stop worrying about it, that the kids would all make dinner. After my third text about how to set the table and which recipe of chicken to use, she sent me a gif of Frozen’s Elsa singing “Let it Go.” I let it go.
Sarah brought me up homemade vegetable soup just after candlelighting time that eased the tightness in my chest and soothed my soul better than any medicine. I hadn’t been able to light Chanukah candles or Shabbat candles with everyone. But I felt loved.
Still I spent the evening feeling quite sorry for myself. The good thing about the flu, however, is that I will heal speedily. As of this afternoon, I felt well enough to sit up in a chair and read. And tonight we lit Hanukkah candles for the seventh night together.
So the important date came and went. Maybe that is just as well. The bottom line holds true. I am grateful for this beautiful and precious life and I plan to enjoy it for another forty years at least.
Shavua tov and Chanukah sameach!
Rabbi Paula Mack Drill
“It felt like it used to be….”
We tend to romanticize the past. We say the good old days are gone. We think the successes of the past can’t be matched. We lament that the lights of yesteryear burned a little brighter. And then something spectacular happens to remind us that we can consistently re-create ourselves … and maybe even climb a little higher.
Last night, the third night of Hanukkah in the year 2022/5783, we were reminded as a community who we are and how special we can be.
How was this night different from any other night? What made this night, this holiday, so special? I have some thoughts on the matter, ranging from the logistical and programmatic to the spiritual.
Not by might, not by power – It takes a spirit of collegiality and teamwork to create a successful event. Rabbi Hersh directed a vision that was embraced by the many constituents of our community. Rabbi Kniaz and the Kulanu board had no issue letting our Tuesday session end early to feed into the holiday program. Sharon Rappaport and our Naaseh/USY community were happy to build their evening off our communal time. A 5:30 start time meant that most parents could finish a work day and have younger children home at a reasonable hour. A multigenerational program offered the space for adults to shmooze over desserts after the younger crowd departed. Our planning represented a spirit of giving, of generosity and of shared aspirations.
The price is right – Thanks to the generosity of a longtime member of this community who passed away relatively recently, we have the resources to offer certain programs free of charge. For many households, financial concerns impact the choices we make and determine the level of our participation. A program that doesn’t carry an additional fee is an attractive option. Moreover, the model of anonymous giving for the benefit of the community is inspiring. Hopefully, we were all inspired to give of ourselves in some way, financially or otherwise, after last night. And perhaps when people recognize the great value they receive from what is offered, they will be willing to prioritize such experiences even at some financial cost.
If you feed them… – Food matters. Especially for an early evening program when it means parents don’t have to cook, feed their children, and clean up at home. More importantly, breaking bread together builds community, and feeds our sense of belonging and our sense of bounty.
Give ‘em the old razzle-dazzle – Laser lights are cool; candles are even cooler. Both create a sense of awe for people of all ages, but with candles we can draw close, smell them, feel their glow. They connect us to so many other moments and emotions in our lives. And as a ritual, candle lighting is familiar, accessible and meaningful in a way that not all Jewish rituals are. Hanukkah, the Festival of Lights, offers us the opportunity to experience radical amazement, a sense of awe and appreciation, as a participatory community in our communal space.
‘Tis the season – There is an underlying motif in the biblical story of Joseph (which we read a part of this week) to which we don’t give enough attention. Can we as individuals, as families, as communities and as a people encounter (and even be attracted to!) a culture, adopt some of its enticing elements, adapt our own customs to the prevailing trends, and still not only maintain our sense of identity but thrive? The holiday of Hanukkah answers this question with a resounding yes! Some may perceive the Christmas holiday season to be in conflict with what we hope to experience of Hanukkah; but there is also the possibility that the season brings out our desire to connect with others, to embrace our own identities a bit tighter, to wear and show off our (tacky?) holiday sweaters, socks, ties, and pajamas like never before.
I hope you were among those who got to experience the magic of the evening. I hope you are among those who create some of this magic in their own homes. I hope you’ll be among those coming back to the synagogue to discover the next magical moment created for you.
Chag Urim sameach, wishing you a happy Festival of Lights,
Rabbi Craig Scheff