Let Your Light So Shine

The Hanukkah Menorah has nine lamps, unlike the Temple Menorah, which has seven. Eight lamps represent the eight days that a single day's worth of olive oil burned in the Temple of Jerusalem following the victory of the Maccabees over the Seleucid Empire. Eight days was the length of time it took to prepare new oil. The ninth candle is the shamash (servant), which is used to light the other eight candles.

The Talmud says that the Hanukkah Menorah should be placed outside the door to the home, on the left-hand side of the door, or if that is not possible, in a prominent position in a window, so that all passersby can see and be reminded of the Hanukkah miracle.

This is a true story (albeit with names changed because I can't remember them).

"Hurry, hurry!", whispered Raffi ben Yaizer, hurrying his children onto the train. It was the last train bound for Poland, and Raffi wanted his family on it. They pressed through the crowd and found a row of seats towards the rear of the train.

Little Rachel watched her father carefully place a tightly wrapped parcel beside him and then double-check to make sure it was safe. Today was the eighth night of Hanukkah, and the parcel contained the family's Menorah, passed down from generations long forgotten. It was one of Raffi's most cherished possessions.

"Mama," he said, turning to his wife, "I don't like it that I can't light the menorah. This isn't right."

"Tush tush", she said, and tilted her kerchiefed head at an armed Nazi guard walking by just outside the window. "Raffi, if you light the menorah you may as well yell for them to come and take us away. God will understand." She shivered and held a handkerchief to her face.

Rachel looked up at Papa but didn't say anything. Her brother and sister sat quietly beside her, waiting for the train to start. She noticed that ever so often Papa would pick up the package, look out the window, and lay it down again.

The train began to creep along, and soon they were hurtling down the tracks. Frost began to form on the windows as snow began to blanket the trees hurtling by just outside, turning the forest into a dreamland.

And then the train lurched to a stop at a station. They weren't supposed to stop here; the train should have sped on through the night. Lights streamed in from the windows. No one moved. Nazis were shouting and moving about outside. Something was happening. Everyone sat still, waiting and watching for what would happen next, praying that the train would begin moving again, that soon they would be far far away from the new Nazi regime.

And then the lights went out.

Someone screamed, frantic, until moments later a door opened and a Nazi guard yelled, "Everyone get off of ze train! Get off! Zere is und elektrical problem! You must exit ze train at zis time!"

Raffi and his family got up and nervously followed everyone else. A Nazi guard in a heavy gray coat stood at the door glowering as each person exited. He scowled at Rachel as she stepped down. Her heart beat at the possibility someone would recognize them as Hebrews.

There they stood, shivering in the cold, for what seemed like ages. One of the Nazis who seemed more important than the others paced back and forth, shouting horrible sounding things in German. He walked inside the station building and she could see him flipping a light switch on and off, to no effect. He waved some papers around, paced some more, shouted, flipped the light switch on and off a few more times, and then slammed the station door open as he stopped in his tracks and stared, dumbfounded and eyes wide, at the train.

"Es gibt ein Licht! Woher kommt dieses Licht!?"

He squinted through the falling snow and lowered his head, trying to see. The platform became eerily quiet, and as Rachel turned to see she heard Mama's breath catch. There where six little lights in a window of the train. Their window. Seven. Eight. Poppa was lighting the Menorah. And now nine little dancing flames burned bright rings of light into the snow covered window, and she could just see Papa's little brown cap through the window leaning forward to pray as the Nazi hurried forward, his heels echoing sharply through the still night air.

"Was ist ein Licht, das auf dem Zug tut? Was ist das?"

She felt as though she was going to faint. She could feel death's fingers closing around her, like a great cloak of fear and horror. Her blood chilled, and the world seemed to turn strangely. Mama was reeling beside her, and Rachel quickly came to her senses and caught her just as her knees gave way. A moan escaped her lips.

"We are dead. Racha we are dead."

Rachel looked toward the train. She could see Papa talking, nodding, and then it looked as though he stood up and the German sat down in his place and looked as though he was setting to work at some important task. The nine little lights in the window seemed to flicker and grow brighter.

"Rachel, we are dead. We are dead! Why would Papa do this to us! Aaii yai yai! They will kill us!"

"Mama, shush now. Papa is coming off the train. We're not going to die. Not yet anyway, I don't think."

And now Papa came close to them, beaming with a smile from ear to ear. He closed his fingers into fists and made short little pumping motions into the air, as he said, "Bless the God of Heaven! The Nazi's had no light to do their paperwork! Now they are working by the only light available - the light of the Menorah!"

Then he grabbed an astounded Mama by the hands and danced a little jig in a circle there in the snow. And the Nazi's worked on, by the only light there was. The light of a Jewish Menorah.