Rabbi Guzik - A Bisl Torah

Like many of you, this past weekend I celebrated Hanukkah. But on Sunday, I witnessed my 95-year-old grandmother celebrating Hanukkah with many of her great-grandchildren. We congregated in a park, opened gifts, and shared stories. My Nana watched the next generation of “Guziks” play games, giggle together and enjoy celebrating the holiday. As everyone gathered to leave, each great-grandchild waved goodbye to Nana and wished her a “Happy Hanukkah.” My uncle remarked, “This is good for them.” He meant that it was good for them to make memories with their great-grandmother. And I couldn’t help but think, “Yes, but really, this is good for all of us.”

There is an ancient debate as to how one should light the Hanukkiah. The House of Shammai says one should initially put all eight candles on the Hanukkiah and each night, take one candle off. The House of Hillel says the opposite. We should add candles as we celebrate each night of the holiday, increasing the light. The explanation given: as the week continues, we should ascend in holiness. Hillel’s tradition holds.

Although most of us are still enjoying Thanksgiving leftovers, Hannukah is just days away. Through the latkes and sufganiyot, we sometimes forget that Hannukah is the holiday of rededication. The Temple was rededicated after a duration of defilement and desecration.

It once again feels odd that Hanukkah will take place during the Thanksgiving holiday. Technically, Hanukkah begins a week from Sunday. As strange the timing, the confluence of themes may elevate our holiday experience.

Some of you remember the post I shared about our lemon trees. For almost a year, the lemons were a dark, rich green. We started to believe we were actually sold lime trees by mistake. And as I wrote a few months ago, the “limes” finally started to offer a slight shade of yellow. That Bisl Torah was about patience, letting something grow in its own time.

On Wednesday evening, my husband and I were glued to the television. Not sharing a favorite movie but rather, drawn to the car chase on the 405. This time, a stolen big rig. We fell asleep listening to the anchors offer the same details: the big rig was still hanging on. No signs of giving up or letting go.

Our Sinai Temple Atid Director, Briana Benaron and I decided to take the morning to map out the upcoming year. Atid (future) is our Sinai Temple micro community for Jewish young professionals. And instead of jumping into which programs we should plan for the calendar, she paused and asked, “Why?”

At a recent holiday celebration, while praying and sermonizing, I noticed the loud raucous noise of a construction site. In between my page calling were sounds of drilling, humming of excavators and beeping of bulldozers moving backwards and forward. I was appalled. How could the congregation possibly concentrate as we were pulled towards noise outside of prayer?

I have a few recurring dreams. One of which is wandering aimlessly around a school setting, miserably late to take an important test. A dream interpreter might point out that I am worried about a deadline or wrestling with the idea of disappointing others. Another interpreter might say that I still feel traumatized by my high school science and math classes (not my best subjects.) And finally, another analyst might ask me what it means to feel tested.

A few days ago, I encountered some poor customer service. I made an appointment, arrived, was told the appointment had changed, and asked to come back later. I rearranged my schedule, came back for the new appointment, and was informed to return in a few hours.