{"id":31071,"date":"2018-11-30T03:26:19","date_gmt":"2018-11-30T11:26:19","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.jewishindependent.ca\/?p=31071"},"modified":"2018-11-30T00:21:33","modified_gmt":"2018-11-30T08:21:33","slug":"the-last-candle-for-the-rabbi","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.jewishindependent.ca\/index.php\/2018\/11\/30\/the-last-candle-for-the-rabbi\/","title":{"rendered":"The last candle for the rabbi"},"content":{"rendered":"

(photo by Jon Sullivan)<\/em><\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

In the village of Chelm, just before every Chanukah, the ancient debate begun by the two great rabbis Hillel and Shammai resumed. Do you start the festival by lighting one candle and counting up, or with eight and counting down?<\/p>\n

Every year, Rabbi Kibbitz issued the same ruling \u2013 do whatever makes you happy.<\/p>\n

This year, although the argument was heated, rumour was that Rabbi Kibbitz was bedridden. He was old. Was he sick? He was tired.<\/p>\n

It was worrisome that his wife, Mrs. Chaipul (she kept her name, which is another story), who owned the only kosher restaurant in Chelm, hadn\u2019t been to work in three days.<\/p>\n

Filling in behind the restaurant\u2019s counter, Rabbi Yohon Abrahms, the schoolteacher and mashgiach, was cooking, cleaning and taking orders.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, about the Chanukah candles,\u201d Reb Cantor the merchant asked the young rabbi, who was busy refilling cups of tea, \u201chow many on the first night and how many on the last?\u201d<\/p>\n

Rabbi Abrahms answered with a shrug. \u201cRabbi Kibbitz always says, do whatever makes you happy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut you\u2019re a rabbi, too,\u201d Reb Cantor said. \u201cWhat do you think?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you want food or a theological dissertation?\u201d Rabbi Abrahms shot back. \u201cBecause I can\u2019t do both at the same time!\u201d<\/p>\n

The room fell quiet.<\/p>\n

\u201cFood, of course!\u201d<\/p>\n

In Chelm, food was always more important than discussion \u2013 until it was gone, then discussion.<\/p>\n

* * *<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cChannah, you should go to your restaurant,\u201d Rabbi Kibbitz said. His voice was soft.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, my love,\u201d Mrs. Chaipul said. \u201cI\u2019ve left it in good hands. I will stay here with you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s OK,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019m not going to die until after Chanukah.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t say such things.\u201d She made the sign against the evil eye.<\/p>\n

\u201cWill you cry when I go?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFor you? Probably.\u201d She was barely holding back the tears. \u201cBut enough. We have years ahead.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d He sighed. \u201cWe\u2019ve had years. Good years. Many, but not enough. Never enough. Now we have only days.\u201d<\/p>\n

He began coughing, and she fed him spoonfuls of warm chicken soup.<\/p>\n

\u201cChannah?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m here.\u201d<\/p>\n

Do you know what the problem with sitting shivah is?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cToo much noodle pudding?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTrue.\u201d The rabbi laughed, then he coughed. \u201cShivah is meant to comfort the living, but I\u2019ve noticed that most bereaved are very uncomfortable. Mourning is overrated. For a week, everyone visits and talks about the recently deceased. And the family has to sit and listen, no matter how tired or sad…. All they really want is their loved one back.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShaa, shaa,\u201d his wife said. \u201cYour shivah is a long way off.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. But I have a request.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat is it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDuring Chanukah,\u201d the old rabbi said, \u201clet me sit shivah with you, before I\u2019m dead. Then you won\u2019t be so alone.\u201d<\/p>\n

She covered her mouth to stifle a sob. What a foolish request!<\/p>\n

Then she nodded. \u201cYes. Yes. Of course.\u201d<\/p>\n

* * *<\/strong><\/p>\n

It caused quite a stir in the village.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf he\u2019s not dead, how is it shivah?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re going to talk about him while he\u2019s lying there in the house?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAfter he dies for real, are we going to have to do another shivah?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd what if he doesn\u2019t die?\u201d<\/p>\n

This last question was interesting, because no one really believed that Rabbi Kibbitz would ever die. He was a bear of a man, who had been old forever. How could one such as that pass on?<\/p>\n

Still, Chelm was a village that embraced the unconventional.<\/p>\n

A schedule was made and, on each night of Chanukah, a different group trudged through the snow to light the candles and sit shivah.<\/p>\n

The two-room house was small. The table was moved to the side of the kitchen, and extra chairs brought in for visitors. The rabbi\u2019s bed was set in the doorway of the bedroom, so he could sit up or lie down as needed. Mrs. Chaipul\u2019s sewing chair was next to the doorway, so she could sit beside him.<\/p>\n

This living shivah turned out to be quite a success, mostly because the rabbi kept his mouth shut and said nothing. Everyone forgot that he was there.<\/p>\n

Each night, blessings were sung and candles were lit. Most of the villagers were counting up with Hillel, but some were counting down with Shammai. No matter how many or how few, the light was warm and bright.<\/p>\n

Yes, there was noodle kugel, but there were also latkes, so many different kinds, including potato, sweet potato and even zucchini.<\/p>\n

Every villager stopped by and shared stories of how Rabbi Kibbitz had listen, talked, helped, advised or officiated. There had been weddings and brises, funerals and so many sermons.<\/p>\n

Mrs. Chaipul listened to all the praise, and the occasional complaint. She accepted comfort and hugs, and wondered at the frequent comment, \u201cWhat will we do now that he is gone?\u201d<\/p>\n

Strangely, hearing these words while her husband was still breathing didn\u2019t leave her as sad as she\u2019d expected. She found herself reliving their life together.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe never had children with his first wife,\u201d she told everyone. \u201cAnd we, of course, were too old. But he always told me that he didn\u2019t need any kinder<\/em> because the whole village was his family.\u201d<\/p>\n

At last, on the eighth night of Chanukah, by some silent agreement, only the younger villagers came to visit. They all had chosen, with Shammai, to light just one candle.<\/p>\n

There was wine and laughter and spirited discussion about the many texts that they had read with the rabbi.<\/p>\n

Rachel Cohen said that she was proud to have been the rabbi\u2019s first female student.<\/p>\n

Her husband, Doodle, agreed that, without Rabbi Kibbitz, none of his many questions about life and death would have been answered so well.<\/p>\n

A hush fell over the room as Doodle mentioned death.<\/p>\n

The last few Chanukah candles sputtered and one by one extinguished.<\/p>\n

All eyes turned to Mrs. Chaipul, who began to cry softly.<\/p>\n

Except for the coals from the stove, the room was black.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs he?\u201d someone whispered.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe should go,\u201d whispered another.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy is it so dark and quiet?\u201d came a booming voice. \u201cAm I dead?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s very noisy if he is dead,\u201d said Doodle.<\/p>\n

Rachel Cohen quickly snatched up a spare candle and lit it from the stove.<\/p>\n

In the dim light, everyone looked and saw Rabbi Kibbitz was sitting up in his bed.<\/p>\n

\u201cHello,\u201d he said. His eyes glinted brightly. \u201cI\u2019m sorry to interrupt. You all said such nice things about me. Thank you. But I don\u2019t think I\u2019m done yet. I\u2019m feeling much better. Channah, maybe you and I could leave Chelm together and do some traveling?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou old fool!\u201d His wife threw her arms around his neck.<\/p>\n

Rabbi Kibbitz hugged her close, and thought about the days to come; each of them an adventure to be shared.<\/p>\n

One by one, but all at once, the students sneaked out of the house to spread word of the miraculous recovery.<\/p>\n

The next morning, when a delegation of elders went to the rabbi\u2019s house, they found it empty.<\/p>\n

A note on the kitchen table read, \u201cNo, we\u2019re not dead. Yes, we\u2019ve gone. Shalom.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mark Binder <\/strong>is an author and storyteller. The former editor of the Rhode Island <\/em>Jewish Herald \u2013 back when there was such a thing as a for-profit Jewish newspaper \u2013 writes the \u201cLife in Chelm\u201d series of books and stories. The first volume, <\/em>A Hanukkah Present, was the runner-up for the National Jewish Book Award for family literature. <\/em>The Brothers Schlemiel was serialized for two years in the <\/em>Houston Jewish Voice. Binder\u2019s a graduate of the Trinity Rep Theatre Conservatory, studied storytelling with Spalding Gray, and has taught the course Telling Lies: How To at the Rhode Island School of Design. He\u2019s toured the world telling stories to listeners of all ages and backgrounds with the secret mission of transmitting joy with story. Readers can listen to the audio version of \u201cThe last candle\u201d story at transmitjoy.com\/spotify<\/a>.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

(photo by Jon Sullivan) In the village of Chelm, just before every Chanukah, the ancient debate begun by the two great rabbis Hillel and Shammai resumed. Do you start the festival by lighting one candle and counting up, or with eight and counting down? Every year, Rabbi Kibbitz issued the same ruling \u2013 do whatever […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":31072,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[781],"tags":[2517,2648,4838],"class_list":["post-31071","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-holidays","tag-chanukah","tag-chelm","tag-storytelling"],"blocksy_meta":{"styles_descriptor":{"styles":{"desktop":"","tablet":"","mobile":""},"google_fonts":[],"version":8}},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.jewishindependent.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/31071","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.jewishindependent.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.jewishindependent.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jewishindependent.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jewishindependent.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=31071"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.jewishindependent.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/31071\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jewishindependent.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/31072"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.jewishindependent.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=31071"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jewishindependent.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=31071"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jewishindependent.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=31071"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}