It has been a busy week here at the JCC. As I watched our elevator vestibule and classrooms burst with clothing for our Baby Buggy drive, our lobby fill with school supplies to be donated to a community in need, and our common space filled with an alumni parent and professional photographer, Diana Berrent, taking pictures of our students that will be made available for families to purchase, for our yearbook, and to support the JCC scholarship fund, I felt extremely proud to be connected to this institution. This year it feels that there is a renewed energy from families, from our teachers, and from our children about taking an active role in making our world a better place. It is heartening to see the amazing efforts that are taking place all around us to chip in and try to help on both a small and large scale.
During this time when we are surrounded by so much suffering and loss in New York City and also enormous fear and concern for our brothers and sisters in Israel, it is easy to feel discouraged or immobilized. How can we begin to make even the smallest dent in this world filled with need? Wednesday night I had the privilege of studying alongside parents and teachers in our Kesher program. We looked at the way that Jews celebrate Chanukah and the miracles that are commemorated. There is the miracle of a small group of Maccabees who were victorious over the Syrian Greeks. There is the miracle of the small jug of oil that lasted for eight days rather than the expected one day. But perhaps the greatest miracle, and the miracle that is probably most useful to remember during times like these, is the sheer miracle of the Maccabees deciding to light the menorah at all.
Take a moment and imagine what it would have been like were you a Maccabee in ancient times. You are standing in a temple that has broken walls, shattered windows, and debris strewn throughout. Imagine looking at all of the destruction, the chaos, and the enormity of the clean up ahead. Were I to discover just one small jug of oil, I could easily imagine deciding to pack my bags, grab a few precious remaining items, and leave the darkened temple for good. The Maccabees dire predicament could have understandably led to deep despair. While they had just won a military victory, they were likely weary from the battle and discouraged to find their sacred temple uninhabitable. But instead of packing up into the night, this small band of Maccabees decided to take a risk and light that small bit of oil. And after they ignited that light they got to work; sifting through the rubble, sweeping, cleaning, and discarding of all that was no longer usable. Does this story sound all too familiar? Like the Maccabees, we have friends and family who look around them and see their homes in disrepair – flooded floors, damaged rooftops, moldy panels, wet and tattered photo albums. Where do they begin? Do they walk away? Must they walk away? Like the brave Maccabees we are watching our neighbors choose hope over despair. They are modeling the most incredible resiliency. Amidst the debris and rubble, flooded cars and destroyed homes, I have witnessed and heard stories of friends and family patiently calling FEMA, meeting mold inspectors, filing insurance claims, replacing cars, and hauling loads and loads of trash to their front stoops.
We have so much to learn from those around us. Hopefully now and through the long haul ahead we may find ways to join our modern brave “Maccabees”; to offer our light, our hope, our support, and our deep respect as they light their lights during this very dark time. We also hopefully can find ways to be like the shamash (the helper candle), offering our light to help ignite theirs when it feels like they are running out of oil.
Ilana received her B.A. from Harvard College and a Master's Degree in Education from Bank Street College. She was born and raised on the Upper West Side of Manhattan and now lives there with her husband and three children.
- Gratitude - October 31, 2014
- The Tower Of Babel - October 24, 2014
- The World Was Created For My Sake… I Am But Dust And Ashes - October 3, 2014