I Have a Little Family

There always were two ways to live in a world that is often dark and full of tears. We can curse the darkness or we can light a light, and as the Chassidim say, a little light drives out much darkness. May we all help light up the world.

—Rabbi Jonathan Sacks z”l

Got no checkbooks, got no banks, still I’d like to express my thanks. I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night. 

—Irving Berlin

The candle of G-d is the soul of man  

—Proverbs 20:27

Put on your yarmulke, here comes Hanukkah. So much funukah. 

—Adam Sandler

For many years, I, like many olim (aka immigrants) in Israel, didn't have much extended family nearby. Over the years, the family has grown - either through aliya, marriage, or birth - at first slowly, but then seemingly by leaps and bounds. I, passionately and gratefully, welcome each new soul into the family.

Two years ago, I thought it was time to try and get all the family members together. By then, we were about 35 people of all ages and sizes, and locations throughout the Land, and together, we made a lot of noise.

The next year, we were about 39 people, with babies and significant others having been added to the mix.

This year, of course, has been different. Because of the Coronavirus Pandemic, our small family, like millions of other families across the globe, has not been able to get together.

Purim 2020 was celebrated in the shadow of the virus, but we didn't know then that it would be the last holiday ofthe year without restrictions and so we all celebrated in our own way, apart.
By Passover 2020, Israel was under strict lockdown with instructions to celebrate only with our own household.
There were no family summer vacations, Rosh HaShana and Sukkot were spent in a second lockdown, and we even had family weddings without the family.

It has not been a family-oriented year.

Tonight begins the last Jewish holiday of 2020. Chanukah (aka Ḥanukka, aka the Feast of Dedication, aka the Festival of Lights, aka the Feast of the Maccabees, aka the Feast of Fried Foods) is an eight-day holiday commemorating the (temporary) victory of the Maccabees over the Hellenist rulers of the Land of Israel over 2500 years ago. Its central symbol is the Chanukiya (aka [erroneously] the Menorah, aka a 9-branched candelabra), which we light each night, adding a candle each time.                                                                                                                                                     

I think they missed the point with this one

We also eat fried foods (which beats Matzah hands down).

A week or so ago, I began what I always do a week (or a month, or six months) before any holiday. I began to collect recipes and make shopping lists.

I have about 7435 different recipes for latkes (aka livivot, aka pancakes, aka fried bits of vegetables); I considered, once again, that this year, I would try to make my own sufganiyot (aka jam busters, aka jelly donuts, aka fried bits of dough with an astronomical amount of calories), or that, alternatively, we would splurge, and buy some really decadent little beauties. 

I planned to take down and dust off our collection of dreidels (aka sivivonim, aka spinning tops, aka bits of plastic that make holes in your feet when you tread on them); 

I even looked up games to play and decorations to make, and bought some shiny chocolate money (aka a way to bribe little children). 

I had so hoped that, after the second lockdown, we would be able to have a family Chanuka celebration, at least outdoors. This is Israel, not the Old Country, and the weather in December can be glorious.

But it is not to be. After a partial opening of the restrictions in late October, numbers immediately began going up again, and today, the 25th day of the month of Kislev, we are, once again, facing closures, curfews, and other limitations.

We can, of course, zoom the annual get-together. That would solve parking problems, food logistics, and prevent cake crumbs in the bedrooms. But zooming isn't great for babies, and the little ones aren't going to get to know each other via computer. Zooming with my own grownup kids (aka teatime), or with another group of adults (aka a meeting without cake) is one thing, zooming with 14 children under the age of 8 (aka the little ones, aka the future, aka chaos) is quite another. 

Many of my colleagues at work have been discussing how to get together with grandparents, cousins, brothers-in-law. Latkes don't taste the same if not shared widely.

Knowing I'm not the only one in this situation hasn't made it much easier.

It's all a bit disheartening (aka distressing, aka, depressing, aka dismal, etc. etc.). Why is this happening? When will it be over? How will we get through it?

Sleeping less and less, feeling more and more anxious and sad, I've done what I always do. I've turned to those wiser and stronger than I (aka our sages, [aka just about everyone]).

This week's Parsha VaYeshev (Torah portion) tells the story of the sale of Joseph by his brothers. It's a well-known story, and the drama leads, eventually, to Joseph's rise to power in Egypt, his family coming to live with him and multiplying, until, finally, the Exodus from Egypt under the leadership of Moshe and the creation of the People of Israel living in the Land of Israel. None of that would have happened if Joseph hadn't been sold by his brothers. It was all a plan, carefully crafted by God, to bring us to where we are today. 

How do we know it wasn't just a string of lucky coincidences leading to a random ending, which in turn, led to more random coincidences, and other random occurrences? The Torah answers this exact question: 

And a certain man found him, and, behold, he (Joseph) was wandering in the field. And the man asked him, saying: 'What are you seeking?'
And he said: 'I seek my brethren. Tell me, I pray thee, where they are feeding the flock.'
And the man said: 'They are departed hence; for I heard them say: Let us go to Dothan.' And Joseph went after his brethren, and found them in Dothan. (Genesis. 37:15-17)

The Man is unnamed, yet takes up three verses. While Ibn Ezra tells us the man was a passer-by, Rashi tells us that he was an angel. Ramban says that “the Holy One, blessed be He, sent him a guide without his knowledge.”
In any case, our sages tell us, the man/angel was put there to ensure that Joseph would get to where he needed to be to secure God's ultimate plan to create His Nation. He wasn't a random stranger who happened to be there. 

We don't know why what is happening today is happening. We don't know when it's going to end. We don't know what the world will look like afterwards.

These are the things we do know:
1. According to our Holy Torah, there are no coincidences. 

2. Gam zu l'tova. This too is for the good, Rav Nachum Ish Gamzu tells us in the Talmud (Taanit 21a)
3. Whoever does not see God everywhere does not see Him anywhere (Kotzker Rebbe)
4. The salvation of God is like the blink of an eye. (Esther 4:17). 
5. God doesn't make mistakes.
6. If we put our trust in God, and know that this is not a mistake; that, in the end, this is also for the good; if we are grateful to be part of this story, and if we are able to alleviate even a small part of the darkness, then we will be living Godly, rich, and good lives.

This year, our small extended Israeli family has grown to 42 souls, having added three more members: 

a granddaughter, a great niece, and a niece-in-law.

I am beyond grateful. 

Happy Chanuka!!! (aka Chanuka Sameach!! aka חנוכה שמח!!