R' Sender from the Warsaw ghetto; the first Jewish soldier in Washington's army' the old-timer who suffered through the bitter Communist exile, the politrok from the Stalin era; the wonderful miracle that happened somewhere in Poland. All of these have one common denominator: the Chanukah lights which burn their way through to a person's core.
Menorahs are known to have unique properties: they have the power of rousing hearts, of igniting the spark of faith, of beaming into them the light of Yiddishkeit. This is a historical voyage of menorahs that illuminated hearts that were distant and revealed the hidden spark, the pintele Yid of every Jewish heart.
Part 1
For Part II of this series click here.
The First Chanukah
The gemora asks: What is Chanukah? It goes on to tell of the miracle of the cruse of oil. The fact that it was found was one miracle. Its duration for eight days was an additional one. Josephus tells of a third miracle connected to fire:
"And Yehuda ben Matisyohu and the entire congregation of followers which were with him came to Jerusalem. They destroyed all the altars which the uncircumcised had built and they purified the Temple from the abominations of the gentiles, and they built a new altar.
"And they laid the flesh of the sacrifice thereupon and they arranged the wood, but they could find no holy fire [to consume it]...
"And fire burst forth from the stone on the altar and they placed the wood upon it...
"And that fire remained until the third exile...
"And they dedicated the mizbeiach in the month of Kislev, on the twenty-fifth day, and they placed the shewbread and they kindled the lights — and they praised Hashem for eight days."
This sacred fire burst forth from the stones in a miraculous manner, without any intervention from man. But manmade fire can also spring forth from stones, as we learn in Pesochim (54a), "A light went forth from the wood and from the stones. Some say that a blessing is recited over it and some maintain that it is not."
The very first fire in the world also sprang forth from stone, as the gemora states there, which is why we recite the blessing over fire on motzei Shabbos, for this is the time that Hashem "planted the intelligence in man from above to rub two [flint]stones against one another and to cause light [sparks]."
The Lights that Stirred George Washington
Chanukah, 1777
It was a harsh, almost unbearable winter. A division of soldiers stationed at Valley Forge had no inkling of what they were doing there and what they were waiting for. In their midst was a lone soldier, different from the rest, a Jewish soldier, a shomer mitzvos.
The troops were literally starving for bread, bone-cold and soul- weary. They lacked decent clothing to cover their frozen frames, and shoes to protect their icy feet. The situation was desperate!
Most of the soldiers voiced their complaints to George Washington, demanding that he take an offensive in the war against England. Many even prayed for his defeat. Others, including our Jewish soldier, gave their full support to the general and hoped that the war would bring independence to this young country. This was the widespread hope shared by most of the Jews who had fled to these shores to escape feudal oppression.
They shuddered when they remembered the degradation they had suffered at the hands of the landowners in Poland, Lithuania, Russia and throughout Eastern Europe. They had their personal reasons for supporting Washington in the war.
Our story focuses on the solitary Jewish soldier in the division of soldiers encamped in Valley Forge. Our hero lies in his tent, shivering from the cold, following the rumors about English victories and colonial defeats. He refuses to put much stock in these rumors and his lips murmur a heartfelt prayer to Hashem above.
The first night of Chanukah arrived. Years had passed since our soldier had left his home. It had been on Chanukah, too, back in Poland, and his father had given him a menorah, saying, "When you light these candles, my son, they will light the way for you."
Ever since then, the menorah had represented a good luck charm, a kameya which he treasured. It accompanied him wherever he went and now, as he lay in his tent, he could not help debating whether to light it here, among his gentile companions, or not. Finally, he decided to wait until they slept. Then...
When all of the soldiers in the tent were fast asleep, he lovingly took out his father's keepsake and lit one candle, recited the blessings, and sat down to watch the small flame dancing merrily. It fired his imagination and brought a string of memories, parading before his eyes.
He saw his father cavorting in a bearskin before the local landowner, for his amusement, while the poritz laughed merrily with his friends. He saw his mother with her eyes red with constant weeping, his little townlet and all the frightening scenes of his difficult childhood passing swiftly before his mind's eye. A lost world had suddenly come to life. He began weeping, when, suddenly, he felt a soft touch on his shoulder. He turned around quickly and was stunned by what he saw. It was George Washington.
The general, in person, stood by his side. He looked at him and said gently, "Why are you weeping? Are you cold, my friend?"
Pain and pity were intermingled in his tender voice. They had made the Jewish soldier forget for a moment who was standing above him, but in a twinkling he leapt to his feet and saluted.
Then he said quietly, "I am weeping before my Father in Heaven, sir. Everyone's fate lies in His hand; He controls the lives of the millions of His creatures all over the world. I was praying for your success, General Washington. I came to this country because I was fleeing the persecution of all the tyrants who have forever oppressed my father, my townspeople and my nation. The despots will fall, sir, but you will be victorious!"
The general pressed the hand of this plain soldier very warmly.
"Thank you, soldier!" he said heartily, and sat himself down on the ground, before the menorah.
"And what have we here?" he asked, full of curiosity.
"This is a keepsake from home. Jews all over the world are tonight lighting the first candle of our festival, Chanukah. This serves to commemorate a great miracle that occurred to our ancestors. It reminds us of the miracle of the victory of the Hasmoneans against the mighty Greeks. They were only a handful compared to the massive armies, but they held out, thanks to their faith in G-d, and were granted a miracle."
The bright flame ignited a spark of hope in the weary general's eyes and he cried out joyfully, "You are a Jew! Then you are descended from a people of prophets! And you say that we will win this war?"
"Yes, sir!" he replied confidently.
The general rose, his face glowing with renewed hope. They shook hands heartily. Washington asked the soldier for his name and address and then disappeared into the night.
The Jewish soldier's prayers were accepted. Washington held out and finally won the war for colonial independence. The land rested. General Washington became the first president of the United States of America and the simple soldier returned to civilian life.
The terrible days and nights of Valley Forge soon faded into oblivion, but not so the episode that had taken place on the first night of Chanukah. That remained in his heart, though he hesitated to tell anyone. "Who will believe me?" he thought.
He was certain that Washington had forgotten the encounter. But he was mistaken; Washington remembered.
On the first night of Chanukah, 1778, our Jewish veteran was sitting in his home on Broome Street, in New York. The first Chanukah light was burning brightly on his window sill. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. His wife rose to open it wide. To her astonishment, there stood the General — that is — President Washington.
"There is that fabulous light, the Chanukah light," he cried out happily, spotting the candle by the window.
"That flame, and your remarkable words, kindled a light in my heart on that dark and bitter night," he reminisced. "We were in a tight situation, then, and your words encouraged me so! They spurred me on with new hope. You will soon be awarded a medal of honor from the United States of America together with all your compatriots of Valley Forge. But tonight, you will receive a personal memento from me."
And with these words he placed a gold medal on the table upon which was engraved a Chanukah menorah with one light burning. Upon this medal was inscribed: "As a sign of thanks for the light of your candle," and below, "George Washington."
18th Century Dutch Menorah
A Great Sacrifice
(Chanukah, The Soviet Union: 1956)
It was very gloomy in the damp warehouse. A elderly, hard-luck man whose prominently-Jewish face was framed by a luxuriant white beard, forged his way through piles of junk and rags which might still come to use, someday.
Somewhere, hidden deep inside one of the piles lay a Chanukah menorah, an heirloom dating back to his grandfather and perhaps, even his great-grandfather. Like its master, it had also known hard times and better days. And each time the twenty-fifth of Kislev came around, it found itself older and more worn out. But so long as the old man was holding out, it was prepared to serve him faithfully.
Theirs was a horrible exile, the golus of Edom, of the spirit, thought the old man to himself. "I don't know if I can take this any longer."
What for? His was a head that could no longer put on tefillin! Kashrus was also beyond his capacity, as was arba minim and so many other mitzvos.
But as for Chanukah — he still had his menorah! Yes, indeed!
He even possessed a spoonful of oil, G-d bless it — he thought, sighing brokenly, and having set it up, he proceeded to light the wick. At least this...
Then, suddenly...
Someone peeped into the window, stared briefly but fixedly, and then vanished into the night.
The next day there was heavy pounding on the massive iron door. The brazen, insistent knocking of goyim... Then an earsplitting roar.
"Is so-and-so in there?"
"Yes, why?"
"You are arrested in the name of the law for committing reactionary economic crimes against the State."
The Communist exile had many jars and vases. But why did it have to pluck a withered Jewish flower that had already lost its fresh bloom?
End of Part 1
