When you light your Chanukah candles, remember that you too, have the strength to be a Maccabee.
When was the last time you were a Maccabee?
Baruch Hashem, Judaism found me in 1975. I was ready for it, searching, knowing at least some of my strengths and weaknesses. It took a year until I became an observant Jew, but that was because of my stubbornness, not because it was not a good fit.
Many experiences helped me arrive at that point.
It was a New England winter, 1971. I was 18 years old, a sophomore in college. The Peace Corps was at its height. The Vietnam and Cambodia War was the daily headline. Outward bound was the craze. Facing wilderness challenges and teaching survival skills as a path to self-knowledge. You had to sign up. There were fourteen random people. No one knew what to expect. The first two nights sleeping on the floor in a log cabin, eating hearth roasted potatoes and soup out of a stockpot that never left the stove top, just more food added every few hours. Meeting new people, eight hours a day on a frozen lake learning how to cross country ski, pitch and take down a tent. How to dress, how to stay dry. A teenagers’ heaven. Then we were ready. The goal, to reach another base camp fifty miles away in five days or less. Fourteen 17-20 year olds with two guides, Jim and Jack. Jim never stopped talking, encouraging, answering questions. Jack almost never said a word but was there if you needed help with something.
It was the second morning out. Two people to a tent. I hadn’t slept well. It seemed like every part of me was in pain. It was freezing inside and outside. Almost all the teams were having trouble lighting their camp stoves. To be honest, I was panicked. This is crazy. I could die. What if I had frostbite already. I wasn’t sure I could move my toes. Crawling out of the tent, I saw Jack. I was so obsessed, could barely speak. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t” was all that came out. He was looking at me, but not responding. Somehow I managed to stand up but can still feel the daggers piercing my legs. “I can’t go on. You have to get me out of here. So cold, I can’t stand it.” 18 years old and crying. People were gathering around, no one knew what to say or do.
I was screaming now, demanding Jack take me out. Without warning, he knocked me down. I couldn’t believe it. Was he nuts? Somehow, I got up again, still crying, filled with terror, and tried to reason with him. Before two more sentences, he flat-handed me, knocking me down again. Now from somewhere deep inside, anger flared. I lunged at him. Grabbing me around my middle, he lifted me off the ground. Flailing at him with both fists and legs, trying to hit him. This happened in just seconds though it seemed like an hour. At some point, he put his mouth next to my ear and whispered, “Steve, are you warm now?” It took a second to register. And I said “Yes”. Slowly he lowered me to the ground and came over to help us light our stove.
Jack was my Maccabee. How often are we in a situation to help someone in a way that no one else can? The light of our Chanukah menorah is in part to publicize the miracle of Chanukah, but it is also a metaphor. Lighting up the darkness. Sometimes only you can see someone else’s difficulty. You are seeing it because you have the ability to help them. Not only did I learn how never to be freezing again. Jack taught me to be wary of taking myself too seriously, that each of us has hidden strengths that we can draw on. But more than that, I learned that we have the ability to be there for someone else. Jack was there to rescue me, to be my Maccabee.
When you light your Chanukah candles, remember that you too, have the strength to be a Maccabee.