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5 Av 5765 - August 10, 2005 | Mordecai Plaut, director Published Weekly
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Home and Family

The Candlestick
A True Story

by Yehudit Sheinin

They were two sisters, close in age, Rachel and Feigie. They slept in twin beds when they were little girls. They played together, did their chores together and had mutual secrets. They had many shared memories, happy and sad, Shabboses and holidays and weekdays; The tunes of Shabbos songs, the taste of the fish their mother made, the smell of the esrog jam that was made in honor of Tu B'Shevat and Abba's voice, reading the Torah portion on Friday.

Also the days of anger and transfer, the years of the terrible Holocaust, they spent together. Together they stayed in the small ghetto room with their entire family. Together they were sent to the camps, together they left every morning for the crushing labor and together they returned on weak legs to the camp. Together they fought over a morsel of bread, a bit of water, a little rest. And together they welcomed the American soldiers, the faces of freedom.

Fatherless, motherless, without a brother or another sister. Without uncles or aunts, cousins, neighbors or acquaintances. Only the two of them remained from the entire family, from an entire town. They had no more tears left to cry over all that had been and was no more.

They couldn't bear to remain on the land drenched with the blood of their family, everyone they knew and the blood of the Jewish nation. Left with no past and an unknown future, they decided to head towards the Holy Land, Eretz Yisrael.

Alone, they immigrated to Israel, with only the clothes on their backs that had seen better days, and carrying one small scrunched up bag containing little. Nothing remained of their faraway home in Europe, except the candlestick. Yes, they had one of their mother's candlesticks.

How they had gotten it, I don't know. Perhaps they had managed to hide it before being taken from their home and they only had to return and smuggle it out in secret without someone seeing and attacking them for it. Perhaps they found it hidden in the house emptied of everything that was once their home. Or perhaps it was a rare moment of humanity that seized one of their Christian neighbors and urged them to return something of their rightful property. I don't know how they got the candlestick but I do know that it was the only object that was left as a reminder of their beloved family, their beloved home, of the days that were gone.

The candlestick accompanied them faithfully on the long journey from Europe to Israel. In moments of longing, of yearning for their past, they would look at it and feel that something still remained for them despite everything.

When the pain of the terrible loss of their entire family overwhelmed them, the candlestick turned into a kind of symbol of their mother and her love, and would provide some comfort. They hid it deep in their bag, their only bag, so that no stranger would covet it, so that it wouldn't, G-d forbid, be lost to them. But when sadness overtook them, they would closet themselves somewhere and take it out of the bag; they would caress it with their fingers and feel warm from touching it. Because the candlestick, which at the beginning had symbolized their mother, slowly became a symbol of the entire past, their home, their family, a mother, a father, neighbors, friends, an entire town. Of days without hunger, and warm nights under a caressing blanket and whole, clean clothes. Once — they had had everything. Now, nothing. And only the candlestick remained, a mute monument, a silent witness to days that were and are no more.

Only the candlestick was left them. And they guarded it well.

They immigrated to Israel and lived, of course, together in a small room. The candlestick was in the room that they shared as they shared everything. But after a few years went by, and they each had found their soul mate and married, they had to decide where the candlestick would remain. The rest of their possessions were easy to divide and mutually agreed upon. But not the candlestick. They weren't able to reach an agreement about which one of them would get it. I don't know how it was decided, but in the end, the candlestick remained with Rachel, over Feigie's strong protests.

Feigie couldn't come to terms with the possibility that the candlestick, so dear to her heart, wouldn't be in her home. During nights of longing, when she didn't have the candlestick to cling to, or in days of longing for what no longer was without any keepsake, the pain rose up in her heart. And after a time, when there had been more days and more nights and more longing, the pain became bitterness aimed, of course, at her sister Rachel.

At the beginning, it was a quiet bitterness. Then more vocal. Later, it turned into anger that grew towards her sister who had dispossessed her of the candlestick, the last vestige of her mother's house.

And so, one day, when her anger overwhelmed her, Feigie decided to do something. She went to her sister's home. There without uttering a word, she went over to the display cabinet where the candlestick stood, opened the door, picked up the candlestick and took it home.

You can imagine Rachel's anger at Feigie's act. She wasn't successful in returning the candlestick to her home, but she cut off all communication with Feigie, her only sister.

Yes, sometimes, anger makes people do illogical things. And how heartbreaking it is to see siblings become strangers, because of an object. Why didn't Rachel and Feigie realize that the memento and continuation of all that had been was not only the candlestick but also and mainly her sister? How could they give up the connection with a sister, their flesh and blood, just for a candlestick, no matter how dear it was to them?

Sad, so sad to see two sisters who had lost the rest of their family now also willing to lose each other. All because of a candlestick. And their mother in Heaven was probably in pain watching her two daughters, the only ones left alive, cutting off all connection to each other.

The years passed, but unfortunately, the rift between the sisters remained. Many probably tried to arbitrate between them, to affect a truce, forgiveness. But it was in vain.

Feigie worked as a secretary in a large chessed organization. The story of the rift between the sisters passed from ear to mouth and reached Chaya, one of the volunteers at the organization. Like all the others who had heard about it, Chaya also sighed and her heart constricted when she thought of the sad rift between the two sisters. But, unlike the others, Chaya couldn't let it be.

For an entire week, Chaya looked for a way to try and make peace between them. She considered the merits of various ideas and at the end of the week, late one evening, she had a new idea and it seemed to her that it had a chance. She decided to try.

On Monday, her regular volunteering day, when Chaya arrived at the building that housed the organization, she approached Feigie.

"I've heard," Chaya said, "That you have a very special candlestick that belonged to your family for a long time. I would very much like to see it. Could I come over to your house and have a look?"

"With pleasure," Feigie answered her.

They scheduled the visit and Chaya went back to her work.

At the agreed upon time, Chaya knocked on Feigie's door. Feigie opened the door and let her into the living room and served her refreshments. They spoke of one thing and another and then Feigie brought the candlestick over and placed it on the table. Chaya exclaimed over the beautiful candlestick.

Before leaving, Chaya asked Feigie if she would lend her the candlestick for a week. Feigie, who was surprised by the request, refused at the beginning. But after more than a few entreaties, Chaya managed to get Feigie to agree and she took the candlestick home.

The next day, Chaya took the candlestick, wrapped it up securely, left her home, and took the bus to a silversmith. When she arrived at the workshop, she asked to speak to the manager who was in charge of production. Because she didn't have an appointment, she had to wait until he was free. She took out a Tehillim and began to pray for the success of her mission.

In the manager' s office, Chaya removed the candlestick from her purse and unwrapped it.

"Would you be able to make an exact duplicate of this candlestick?" Chaya asked the manager with a prayer in her heart. The manager took the piece, examined it and looked at it from every angle. Chaya waited tensely.

"Yes, we can create an identical candlestick," he answered finally and Chaya breathed freely. She had money for charity which this time she donated to this worthy cause. A week later, the new candlestick was ready, having also undergone a special aging process which made it look antique, like the first candlestick. Chaya thanked him warmly, paid the required amount, took the two candlesticks and went home.

That evening, Chaya knocked on Feigie's door, with both candlesticks wrapped securely in her bag. Feigie opened the door and welcomed Chaya in.

Chaya opened her bag and in front of Feigie's astonished eyes, took out the identical candlesticks and put them on the table.

"One candlestick is yours," Chaya said. "The other one is for your sister. Please, bring it to her. Make up with her, Feigie. There is a vessel of beracha that Hashem created and it is peace. Don't keep that blessing from your home. Don't miss the opportunity to have it!"

And Chaya turned to the door, took her leave of the stunned Feigie and close the door behind her.

I don't know how it happened, what Feigie said to Rachel when she brought one of the candlesticks to her home — or did she bring the two to give her the choice — or how she explained it to her. Did she apologize? Did she express her regret about their separation or her longing for her only sister that was left her?

I only know that peace returned to dwell between the sisters, to Chaya's joy. And I have no doubt in my heart that their mother, in Heaven, also rejoiced.

[And so, too, may our hearts sing with the rejoicing of Hashem in His children and the rebuilding of the Beis Hamikdosh, speedily, in our days!]

 

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