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Shabbat On Fire: How a Religious Jew Navigated Our Holy Day

We knew that this past Shabbat was not going to be an ordinary day of rest, but we didn’t know how harrowing it would be.
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January 15, 2025
Photo courtesy Jenn Levine

We knew that this past Shabbat was not going to be an ordinary day of rest, but we didn’t know how harrowing it would be. I got my first request to host guests for Shabbat lunch, even as the fires had already been burning for a few hours. A day and a half later, three of our six guests had canceled as thousands fled their homes, stayed inside due to harsh air quality, or just plain left town. “This Shabbat is teaching us to be flexible,” I told my husband, as we continued to prepare for the guests who were still coming. We were surprised at how much more flexibility was needed to make it through those 25 hours.

As Friday afternoon approached, the Palisades Fire had already burned 15,000 acres, including my aunt and uncle’s long-time home. We learned that we would need to be prepared for the possibility of evacuating over Shabbat. The giant bruise-like clouds of smoke looming over the mountains confirmed this possibility. The Northern edge of the fire was only a few miles away from our neighborhood. Our rabbi sent us detailed instructions for how to navigate the fire under the guidelines of Jewish Law, including packing essentials before sunset, leaving our normally silent phones on loud to receive alerts, and how to drive our cars to safety on Shabbat. He also made arrangements with a hotel willing to host our entire congregation in case of evacuation. As driving is an activity that observant Jews only do in case of life-threatening emergencies, there were some specific rules to follow if this needed to happen. We restlessly awaited any news as we made final preparations for the day of rest.

When packing took longer than I realized, I lost track of time. My son warned me that sunset was quickly coming and I raced to light candles in time. When the match broke in my hand, I realized that if I tried again, it would be past sunset. I made the decision not to light, one of very few times in my almost 19-year history of consistently lighting Shabbat candles that I was too late to do so. Despite the guilt I felt that I missed out on the mitzvah, I was glad to be in the comfort of Shabbat. I tried to find solace in Shabbat’s start, even without the comforting glow of its candles. Although the fire of this Shabbat wasn’t typical, I tried to actively connect to the blessings that I had in that moment. Thank God, I was safe for the moment and so was my family.

As night fell, the glow of the smoke clouds burned red in the low sky and was visible outside our front door. There was a constant reminder of fire looming over the evening. During the meal, we went outside multiple times, along with several of our neighbors, watching the smoke clouds grow in height and in brightness. Was it our imagination that they seemed to be closer than before? We got a Watch Duty alert on my phone that much of the neighborhood next to us was now under evacuation orders. An EMT neighbor from the volunteer organization Hatzolah informed us that he heard over the radio that crews from North Hollywood would be driving around with lights, sirens, and loudspeakers to make sure that residents evacuated. It was a small solace to see the tiny glittering lights of a line of fire engines along Mulholland, working to keep the fire at bay. We continued our meal and then joined many more neighbors congregated outside. A secular man whom I had never met before said to me, “You know, if lives are in danger, you’re allowed to drive on Shabbat.” I thanked him and reassured him that we were ready to drive if we were told to leave.

The fires soon flared up and we could see actual flames along Mulholland, reaching higher than even the sparkle of the fire engines. With further gusts, the flames soon died down and we told our neighbors to stay safe as we went back in and tried to rest. With much anxiety, I got little sleep that night. Emergency alerts and safety apps pinged disturbances throughout the night.

This was accompanied by sirens of emergency vehicles speeding by and the whirring of helicopter blades overhead. I awoke to each alert with a start, checking to see if it was our turn to leave. Fortunately, we made it through the night without an order.

The next morning, we saw two areas of heavy smoke on the mountain and learned that it was now about two miles from us. It didn’t look like much progress had been made overnight, though we hoped and prayed that it had. I set the table for the lunch meal and prepared to walk to shul. On the way there, I heard nonstop helicopters and planes. I turned to see a large air tanker which swooped low and flew less than 500 feet above, making its way to the Mulholland edge of the fire. At shul, our three remaining guests told us that they had to cancel on coming to us for lunch. As a family, we walked home while trying to evoke a sense of normalcy in the chaos of the day. We spoke at the meal about the new information we learned and looked again for updates in the street. Shabbat came to a close with Havdalah. The large flame of the three-wick candle, which had always fascinated me, was ironically soothing to witness. After finishing a Shabbat with no lit candles in our home and a fire on the horizon, this controlled flame was somehow a beacon of hope. The night progressed with few new updates or containment news. I checked on friends in the new evacuation zones, who were now safe in new temporary lodgings.

Sunday morning, I woke up determined to help instead of feeling helpless. My family and I made our way to Holy Smokes Kosher Barbecue’s kitchen, where along with Chef Bae (Brooke Baevsky), Pittmaster Dani Goldblatt was overseeing an operation of nearly 30 volunteers, all assembling, wrapping, and packing food for firefighters across the area, as well as displaced families in both the Palisades and Pasadena. After assembling a veritable army of giant deli sandwiches, trail mix, tangerines, and mini cupcakes, we headed out for the Lake Balboa station, where although most firefighters were out on duty, they were excited to receive meals of appreciation. Other volunteers delivered over 500 lunch sandwiches to the front lines, along with 40 quarts of stew and rolls for dinner. Their efforts were covered by Fox News, Entertainment Tonight, and more. When I told friends about my experience, they immediately asked me how they too could get involved. Chef Bae and Dani have no intention of stopping so long as the need remains. As the huge groups of volunteers at sites around the city can attest, I am far from alone in feeling that being of service is the best thing we can do for ourselves and others.

As of this writing, we are in the midst of another wind event and are not out of danger yet. But the fire and smoke is no longer visible on the horizon. It is my hope and prayer that the good news continues, that the fires will be contained, that the evacuated can get back to their homes, and those who have lost everything can find the strength to rebuild. May the next day of rest be truly restful for Jews across Los Angeles, and around the world.

To donate to the food efforts of Holy Smokes and Chef Bae, visit donorbox.org/holy-smokes.


Jenn Levine is a writer, an award-winning producer, and a religious consultant on Amazon’s upcoming “House of David.”

 

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