{"id":37885,"date":"2021-11-19T01:01:30","date_gmt":"2021-11-19T09:01:30","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.jewishindependent.ca\/?p=37885"},"modified":"2021-11-18T18:06:02","modified_gmt":"2021-11-19T02:06:02","slug":"dream-warms-frozen-flames","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.jewishindependent.ca\/index.php\/2021\/11\/19\/dream-warms-frozen-flames\/","title":{"rendered":"Dream warms frozen flames"},"content":{"rendered":"

It was just before sunset on the last night of Chanukah, the coldest it had ever been in Chelm. (photo from pxhere.com<\/a>)<\/em><\/p>\n

It was a cold day in the village. It was so cold that when Reb Cantor, the merchant, sneezed without covering his mouth, his mucus solidified and blew a hole through the window of his shop, which his wife fixed by throwing a cup of tea at his head. He ducked, and the tea hit the windowpane and froze into place. It was that cold.<\/p>\n

It was so cold that the flame of the eternal light in the synagogue froze solid. Instead of flickering brightly, it stood still, like red and yellow glass.<\/p>\n

The villagers were frightened. It was just before sunset on the last night of Chanukah. Soup froze on its way from the pot to the table. Vodka oozed as it was poured into a glass. Chanukah candles snapped at the slightest touch. Reb Cantor\u2019s matches broke into splinters. Stoves were almost useless. Warm challahs froze into rocks in seconds. Axes had to be warmed or else, when they struck the firewood, the blades shattered as if they were made of crystal. The Uherka River had frozen solid, trapping in its icy clutches a flock of geese late to leave the area.<\/p>\n

It seemed as if the end was near. Everyone was hungry. They were afraid to go outside because the wind sucked the heat from their skin. The air itself left their lips numb. Kissing could be dangerous.<\/p>\n

The day had been dark and cold, and the night would be darker and colder. Meals were uncooked and uneaten. Chanukah candles, set in their menorahs, were unblessed and unlit. Families stayed in their homes, huddled together in bed.<\/p>\n

Even in the house of the wisest man in the village of fools, the menorah was dark.<\/p>\n

Rabbi Kibbitz shivered in his bed with his wife, Channah Chaipul (she kept her maiden name, which, as you know, is another story). The two of them lay fully dressed beneath four sheets, three blankets, two quilts and seven coats \u2013 everything warm that they owned. Still, his teeth were chattering. For the first time in his life, he regretted not owning a dog or a cat.<\/p>\n

\u201cChannah,\u201d the rabbi said. \u201cWe have to light the candles.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou do it,\u201d she said. \u201cI\u2019ll watch from here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy hand is too unsteady. The shammos will blow out. You are better at that sort of thing.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m almost warm,\u201d she said. \u201cYou do it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m nearly frozen,\u201d he answered.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo? You want me to get out of bed, light the candles, and come back in with icy cold feet?\u201d<\/p>\n

He shuddered. The last time she had put a cold foot on his ankle, his heart nearly stopped.<\/p>\n

He sighed and closed his eyes. Maybe in a few minutes he would\u2026.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you awake?\u201d she said, elbowing him in the ribs.<\/p>\n

\u201cChannah!\u201d he said, suddenly sitting up. \u201cI had a dream!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you crazy? Lie down, you\u2019re letting in a draft.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, Channah, I\u2019ve had a dream. Quickly! Get up! We need to gather everyone together in the synagogue.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mrs. Chaipul squinted at her husband. She hadn\u2019t seen him this excited since he\u2019d beaten Rabbi Abrahms, the schoolteacher, at canasta. \u201cWhat did you dream?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t tell you,\u201d he answered. He slid out of bed and gasped as the frigid air slapped his neck like an icy wet towel. \u201cTell everyone to bring their menorahs and come to the synagogue. Quickly!\u201d<\/p>\n

Grumbling and shivering, Mrs. Chaipul stood, and nearly stopped right there. She wondered if it was possible for blood to freeze. Then, the rabbi went one way and his wife went the other, banging on doors and windows. They ran as fast as they could (which was remarkably briskly, considering their ages), waking villagers and telling them to gather in the synagogue.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat? Why? Are you crazy?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, I am,\u201d said Mrs. Chaipul. \u201cBut the rabbi has had a dream. So you can freeze in your house or freeze in the shul. It\u2019s up to you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Parents groaned. Children were wrapped in blankets. Doors were pried open. Menorahs were carried carefully, lest they crack into pieces on the short trip to the synagogue.<\/p>\n

The small shul filled quickly.<\/p>\n

Rabbi Kibbitz stood at the front, on the bimah, with five tallisim wrapped around his shivering old shoulders. He stood beneath the eternal light, staring at the still-frozen flame.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs everyone here?\u201d he asked. Everyone looked around and nodded. No one was missing. \u201cThen, please, somebody shut the door!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s shut,\u201d came a shout from the back.<\/p>\n

\u201cOy,\u201d muttered the chilled rabbi.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, Rabbi, what is it?\u201d said Reb Cantor. \u201cWhat is so important that you asked us to risk life and limb to come to the synagogue on a night so cold my eyeballs almost froze?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI had a dream,\u201d the rabbi said.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, I heard,\u201d answered Reb Cantor. \u201cYou maybe want to tell us what the dream was?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI dreamed,\u201d Rabbi Kibbitz sighed, \u201cthat all the villagers of Chelm gathered together in the synagogue.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes? Yes?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, in my dream, it was a cold, cold night, and the Chanukah candles weren\u2019t yet lit.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes? Yes?\u201d the villagers repeated.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd everyone, all of you, came here to the synagogue.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes? Yes?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s it.\u201d The wise rabbi shrugged. \u201cWe were all here. Then Channah nudged me, and I woke up.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s not much of a dream,\u201d muttered Mrs. Chaipul.<\/p>\n

The citizens of Chelm stared in disbelief at their beloved rabbi.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re crazy!\u201d shouted Reb Cantor. \u201cYou yanked us out of our moderately warm beds and dragged us here to tell us that you had a dream that we were all here? That\u2019s it? Rabbi Kibbitz has finally lost his mind! Rabbi Abrahms, it is time for you to become the chief rabbi of Chelm.\u201d<\/p>\n

The villagers began to grumble and argue and stamp their feet. A wave of exasperated hot air lifted to the ceiling as their voices rose into shouts.<\/p>\n

\u201cWait, wait!\u201d Rabbi Kibbitz said. \u201cPlease, listen.\u201d<\/p>\n

Just then a child\u2019s voice shouted, \u201cLook! Look!\u201d<\/p>\n

It was young Doodle, the orphan, and one of the most foolish boys in the village of Chelm.<\/p>\n

Doodle was pointing up at the eternal lamp. The pale light was thawing \u2013 flickering faintly, but growing brighter as it filled the synagogue with its glow of red, orange, yellow and gold.<\/p>\n

Reb Cantor himself lifted Doodle up. \u201cCareful, careful now,\u201d he whispered, as the young boy touched his shammos to the light of the eternal flame.<\/p>\n

That candle was passed back and forth throughout the shul, as every family lit their own shammos. Everyone held their breath, wondering whether the wind and the cold would extinguish the thin flames.<\/p>\n

Then, at long last, the villagers of Chelm said the blessings all together. The shammosim touched the other candlewicks. Soon, for each family, one flame became eight (plus the shammosim).<\/p>\n

Now the synagogue was full of light, and the villagers began to sing.<\/p>\n

Reb Cantor swept the old rabbi up in a bear hug. \u201cThat was some dream!\u201d<\/p>\n

Everyone laughed and danced.<\/p>\n

They stayed there all night, and the candles burned so slowly that it was well past dawn before the last one burned out.<\/p>\n

That morning, when the doors to the synagogue were opened at last, a warm breeze left the shul and spread out over the village.<\/p>\n

The ice on the Uherka River cracked, and the flock of trapped geese took flight. All the villagers watched and cheered as the birds sped south.<\/p>\n

And, from the east, the sun rose higher, and its rays felt warm with promise.<\/p>\n

Izzy Abrahmson<\/strong> is a pen name for author and storyteller\u00a0Mark Binder, who\u00a0 lives in Providence, R.I., and tours the world \u2013 virtually and in-person. Abrahmson\u2019s <\/em>Winter Blessings: Warm Stories from the Village was a National Jewish Book Awards finalist.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

It was just before sunset on the last night of Chanukah, the coldest it had ever been in Chelm. (photo from pxhere.com) It was a cold day in the village. It was so cold that when Reb Cantor, the merchant, sneezed without covering his mouth, his mucus solidified and blew a hole through the window […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":37886,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[781],"tags":[2517,2648,6133,4838],"class_list":["post-37885","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-holidays","tag-chanukah","tag-chelm","tag-fiction","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\/37885","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=37885"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.jewishindependent.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/37885\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jewishindependent.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/37886"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.jewishindependent.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=37885"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jewishindependent.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=37885"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jewishindependent.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=37885"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}