As wildfires raged across Los Angeles, forcing evacuations and leaving destruction in their wake, Congregation Or Ami of Calabasas’s Torah scroll embarked on a profound journey. By the prescient, proactive decision of Rabbi Lana Zilberman Soloway, the Torah was evacuated from its home for safekeeping and entrusted to our synagogue’s vice president. It came into my possession when a Bar Mitzvah needed to rehearse with it. By then, the Sefer Torah (Torah scroll) had begun a remarkable journey, touching lives and serving as a symbol of resilience and connection.
Torah scrolls have always carried our people through moments of existential danger—from exile to persecution to natural disasters. This Torah’s journey similarly served as both a guide and an anchor, offering stability amid chaos and reminding us of the enduring strength of tradition. The Torah’s power to anchor us during turmoil inspires us to carry forward its sacred teachings, especially in the face of danger.
Early Morning: Resting Among Leaders
As Shabbat morning began, the Sefer Torahrested in the home of dear friends, Rabbi Ron Stern and Becky Sobelman-Stern, where my wife, Michelle November, and I had sought refuge as the fires threatened our house. During the week, Ron had been reaching out to help lead Stephen Wise Temple’s wildfire relief efforts. Becky had been raising funds and guiding the Jewish Federation’s relief efforts, reflecting on how best to continue supporting those impacted by the fires. Michelle—director of admissions at de Toledo High School in West Hills—was reimagining how displaced students from Pacific Palisades could connect with the school. I was supporting our Congregation Or Ami of Calabasas community.
The Sefer Torah’spresence in their home was grounding. Though we were all immersed in our responsibilities, the Torah conveyed a quiet, calming reminder of menuchat Shabbat (the peace of Shabbat) and menuchat hanefesh(tranquility of spirit). Amid the urgency of our work, its timeless presence steadied us and offered us a moment to breathe.
A Sacred Celebration at Temple Judea of Tarzana
By 8:30 a.m., the Sefer Torah was on the move, this time to Temple Judea of Tarzana, where it became the centerpiece of a Bar Mitzvah celebration. Without power at Congregation Or Ami of Calabasas, Rabbi Josh Aaronson’s gracious invitation to use their sanctuary created a space where our Torah could shine.
As Liam Frank held tightly to the Torah, the sanctuary filled with the voices of his loved ones. Yet the ark stood starkly empty, as Temple Judea of Tarzana’s Torah scrolls had been evacuated for safety. In that emptiness, Or Ami’s Sefer Torah became more than just a sacred object—it became a symbol of continuity, resilience, and shared purpose. It carried forward the strength of tradition, reminding us all that the stories and teachings it holds endure, even through the challenges of displacement.
Liam, who had rehearsed his Torah portion in my kitchen—a moment captured in The Forward—now stood before it, carrying on our people’s sacred tradition. Watching him chant and embrace the Torah reminded us that Torah is more than a scroll; it is a living connection between generations, an Etz Chayim Hee (a Tree of Life) and an enduring symbol of hope that remains steadfast through history’s trials.
A Sacred Encounter with a Non-Jewish Acquaintance
Later that afternoon, the Torah crossed paths with a Persian-American acquaintance of mine. As he noticed the Torah in its handcrafted carrying bag, curiosity sparked, and he asked me about it.
I explained how the Torah represents the essence of our people’s brit (covenant) with God—an Etz Chayim Hee (a Tree of Life) to those who hold fast to it. Torah possesses a universal ability to inspire awe and connection, even across cultural and religious boundaries. This brief interaction showed how the Torah, wherever it travels, brings with it the power to build bridges of understanding and shared humanity.
The Challenge of Relieving the Responsibility
By 2:30 p.m., the Torah and I had both traveled far that day. As I carried it through each stop, the sacred responsibility of protecting it weighed heavily—not just physically, but emotionally. The Torah had touched so many lives in the span of hours, and it was clear how much its presence mattered.
My friend, Rabbi Debra Robbins, checking in on me from Dallas, encouraged me to take time for myself. To breathe. But that required me finding somewhere safe to share the responsibility of protecting Torah.
This was no simple decision. Torah couldn’t be entrusted to someone who might face evacuation themselves or was already caring for elderly parents, young children, or pets.
Because the Torah is an Etz Chayim Hee—a Tree of Life, its strength sustains us, but it also depends on us to safeguard and honor it.
Sensing my struggle, Michelle suggested a solution: return the Torah to de Toledo High School in West Hills. This felt deeply symbolic. During the Woolsey Fire of 2018, when Congregation Or Ami of Calabasas was displaced, de Toledo became a sanctuary for our community. Now, years later, the Torah would once again find refuge there, placed in the care of Head of School Mark Shpall. It was a full-circle moment—a reminder of how sacred spaces and partnerships sustain us in times of need.
Finally, I returned home.
I confess I felt a profound sense of relief. The Torah’s journey that Shabbat had touched so many lives, offering strength at the Bar Mitzvah, solace to a community in need, and inspiration to everyone who encountered it.
As the Torah rested safely in its temporary home, I knew it would soon return to its rightful place in the ark at Congregation Or Ami of Calabasas, ready to inspire and guide our kehillah kedoshah (holy community) once more.
As long as we continue to hold it tightly—in our arms, our hearts, and our actions—Etz Chayim Hee—this Tree of Life—will always provide us with the resilience to carry on, especially in the face of danger.
Rabbi Paul Kipnes is leader of Congregation Or Ami in Calabasas, California.
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