Friday, November 9, 2018. It is fitting that the first day of Kislev, the “darkest month”, should also be the day of our first snow of the season. Out at the lake at 7:30 am, it was blustery and cold, sleet turning to snow, and the water was dark and opaque, geese and migrating stragglers honking and splashing in the dimness. We talked of the sleepiness and introspection of the month Cheshvan we are leaving behind, and the coming of Hanukah when introspection is turned into a vision for action.
Our source Jill Hammer tells of the bonfires set in the hills of Jerusalem in rabbinic times, to announce the new month of Kislev and the approach of the Hanukah holiday. Far-flung villages would light their own upon seeing the Jerusalem fires, and even farther villages then light theirs, and so a chain of communication by fire would reach across the countryside. Kislev is also the month of dreams, when we remember Joseph and Jacob, our ancestral dreamers and dream interpreters, who dealt in visions of the future.
After the events of the last two weeks, we sense the dark intensely. We are calling from the numb dimness of mourning, despairing that we cannot ever effect any change in the circumstances that lead to tragedy. And yet, the cycle of the year continues. The light will come again, we are told, and we are not permitted to give up. We are reminded that even though the universe returns the light to us, we must also light our own bonfires, and envision and create, together, our dreams of a better world. May the Hanukah candles remind us of this, and be the renewal of light for our families and our community. —Kirby
Rosh Chodesh Cleveland 