“Ima, buy me a sufgania! I saw them in the makolet this morning!”
Oh, I know what that means… Chanuka’s around the corner! Israeli makolets (corner stores) make sure to get everyone into the Chanuka spirit by selling sufganiot (donuts) as early as a month and a half before the holiday. Sufganiot, those oily, calorie-laden, large round treats, lovingly injected with bursts of fuchsia jelly… “Ima, take this picture. I drew it myself!” Here, little Noam presents me with a piece of paper with fire safety instructions illustrated by his nursery teacher, and colored in (inside the lines!) by Noam!
“Thanks, honey”, I absentmindedly say as I kiss his forehead and send him off to play with Lego.
Fire… Images of the horrific fires that recently consumed Haifa and several Jerusalem-area moshavs cloud my mind. Fires caused both by hateful arsonists and natural forces. Fires that left hundreds homeless with only the clothing on their backs.
I even recall reading about Yoram Raanan of moshav Beit Meir, an Israeli artist who, while running for his life to escape the blazes, witnessed his studio of 40 years burn to a crisp. I’m talking about tens of original oil paintings worth over $50,000 each, expensive oil paints, specialized tools and equipment, catalogues… basically his entire career went up in flames. My thoughts fly rapidly on to my friend Yocheved’s grandfather, a pious Rabbi in a Galitzian shtetl in the early twentieth century. Days, months and years of his modest life were spent poring over ancient Jewish texts, compiling what he hoped would become his magnum opus of Rabbinic literature. When a small fire began blazing in his tiny kitchen in the dead of the night, it went unnoticed. But as it spread and the heat became unbearable, Rabbi G and his family just barely managed to escape. But his brilliant manifesto was not so fortunate. It went up in flames. Rabbi G mourned those holy words of Torah to his dying day.
Then my train of thought leads me to a Shabbat meal, 10 years ago, when I was a guest at Rabbi S of Ofakim’s home. With a look of pride in his eyes, he recounted to his family and guests the tale of the fire that burnt down his childhood home in Be’er Sheva. It was right before his Bar Mitzvah. What did his father make sure to save from the flames? His money? The furniture? Family heirlooms? No. As his Rabbinical father witnessed his house burning, he instructed all the family members to help save as many holy books as they could. The books that contained within them the Holy word of G-d.
Crash! Uh, oh! What’s going on in the kitchen? I rush there as the sound of pots and pans toppling and tumbling down rings in my ears! “Ima, come quick! I want to bake Chanukah cookies! And please make us sufganiyot, too!”
With one hand, Noam motions innocently to the small flame that he lit- himself!- on our gas stove. With the other hand, he gives me a pot. He wants me to prepare the Chanukah feast. Now. So there are fires that destroy, but also fires that build! Fires that have the potential to build warm family memories, all the while ensuring a large turnout at the post-Chanukah exercise classes!
I look forward to all the wonderful family time we’ll enjoy this upcoming Chanukah and to the cozy, warm, delightful fires that build!
