Exodus

Work still left to finish

Last week, the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver, in conjunction with the Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs, released the results of a community survey on antisemitism. There were, perhaps, few surprises.

Of those surveyed, 85% said that antisemitism has “increased a lot” since Oct. 7, 2023. More than 60% of respondents said they avoid displaying items that would identify them publicly as Jewish and almost two in three said they avoid particular places and events out of concern for their safety.

A public opinion poll released around the same time indicated that the often-discussed “silent majority” is on our side – most British Columbians are concerned about antisemitism. More than three-quarters of respondents to a Research Co. poll said they are concerned about “aggressive behaviour by pro-Palestinian protesters,” “protesters targeting Jewish neighbourhoods and Jewish-owned businesses” and “rising prejudice against Jewish Canadians.”

While we would appreciate if the solidarity expressed in this survey were articulated more vocally and visually, it is reassuring to know that the targeting of our community is not unnoticed or uncontested. The survey is, in any event, a rare encouraging sign.

It may seem delusional to seek rays of light amid reports of unabating antisemitism. But is one narrative of Passover not precisely to remind us that we have met and overcome suffering and subjugation in the past? When we celebrate the holiday, we are reanimating our collective experience of resistance to tyranny and oppression, the birth pangs of our peoplehood, and the victory over apathy and forgetting. An unequivocal through-line across Jewish history is resilience.

We retell the story of Exodus every year during the seder not as history but as a living, spiritual framework for Jewish identity and values.

While this is a very difficult time, it also has the capacity to bring out tenacity, determination and unity among the Jewish people.

Difficulty can also create cracks in unity. This is the night when, more than other nights, we reflect on liberation from literal or figurative slavery – in today’s situation, perhaps, freedom from violence and discrimination – and the imperative of Jews to protect and advocate for liberation. So, as we witness growing fissures in the Jewish world, let us rededicate ourselves to the project of liberation and peoplehood based on fundamental values of freedom, love, unity and community.

On Passover, we are reminded that there are pharaohs in every generation who seek to destroy and oppress. We utter the words “You shall tell your children,” because a vivid memory of the past is central to facing our present and creating our future. Every generation faces its own “Egypt.” The work of liberation is not yet finished.

May those who are held captive in Gaza, those who are fighting to defend Israel, those experiencing violence and discrimination, or seeking freedom in any form, be redeemed.

Significance of Egyptians’ gifts

“A people driven by hate are not – cannot be – free.” (Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks, z”l) (photo from flickr)

According to Exodus 1:8, a new Egyptian king rose to power who did not know Joseph. He did not remember, or did not care, that Joseph, as Egypt’s chief food administrator, had saved the country from famine. As such, this new pharaoh felt no special gratitude toward the Hebrews who had settled in his land so long before. But, while the Torah text deals with pharaoh’s relationship to the Hebrews, it does not address the relationship between the Hebrew slaves and their native Egyptian neighbours.

If we look deeper in the Book of Exodus, we learn that the Hebrew slaves did know the Egyptians – they lived among them. Not only that, but the Hebrews were on good terms with their Egyptian neighbours. Thus, when it was time for the Hebrews to flee from Egypt, their neighbours gave them gifts.

The send-off was carried out in stages. In the first stage, G-d instructs Moses to tell the Hebrews that “each man should ask his neighbour for and each woman of her neighbour, jewels of silver and jewels of gold.” (11:2) It is worth noting that, depending on the context, modern Hebrew might translate neighbour as friend, buddy or colleague. Moreover, the word ask might be translated as borrow – though, since the departing Hebrews had no intention of returning to Egypt, ask is the word to use in this context.

Perhaps G-d was not totally sure how things would work out, so, just to make sure things went as He wanted them to, “He gave the people favour in the eyes of the Egyptians.” This point is apparently so critical that it is repeated soon afterwards: “the Lord gave the people favour in the eyes of the Egyptians that they let the Hebrews have what they asked for.”

Some commentators have said that the Egyptians could not be expected to offer gifts of their own initiative, so the departing Hebrew slaves encouraged them by saying, let us part as friends and we’ll take a parting gift. Others – like Philo in his Life of Moses – observe that the Hebrews were prompted not by love of gain, but by the desire to recoup some of the wages due to them for their slave labour.

The Egyptians, on their part, might have been only too happy to see the Hebrews go, as they were tired of suffering from the increasingly hard-to-take plagues. Thus, in the first chapter of the Book of Exodus, the Hebrews are told to ask for the jewelry and to receive the riches, then they are commanded to “put them on your sons and daughters.”

While it may seem extravagant to gift someone gold and silver, the ancient Egyptians all wore jewelry, it was more commonplace. According to the article “Egyptian Jewelry: A Window into Ancient Culture,” by Morgan Moroney of Johns Hopkins University and the Brooklyn Museum, “From the predynastic through Roman times, jewelry was made, worn, offered, gifted, buried, stolen, appreciated and lost across genders, generations and classes. Egyptians adorned themselves in a variety of embellishments, including rings, earrings, bracelets, pectorals, necklaces, crowns, girdles and amulets. Most Egyptians wore some type of jewelry during their lifetimes.”

That said, gold and silver are important “not only from an economic but also from a symbolic point of view. Gold, for instance, was regarded as a divine and imperishable substance, its untarnishing nature providing a metaphor of eternal life and its brightness an image of the brilliance of the sun…. The very bones of the gods were said to be of silver, just as their flesh was thought to be of gold,” writes Richard H. Wilkinson in his book Symbol & Magic in Egyptian Art.

Taking this point a step further, we might be able to interpret the Egyptians’ giving of silver and gold as an act of bestowing mystical characteristics on the ancient Hebrews. Certainly, it is a recognition that the Egyptian people viewed the Hebrews well.

However, Rabbi Judah, in the name of Samuel, takes a totally different approach. He claimed that the gold and silver had been collected by Joseph when he stored and then sold corn.

Reportedly, the Hebrews took all the gold and silver when they left Egypt and it was eventually taken to the Land of Israel. It remained there until the time of Rehoboam, the son of Solomon, then changed hands many times. It came back to ancient Israel and stayed until Zedekiah. It changed hands between the various conquerors of Israel and eventually was taken by the Romans. It has stayed in Rome ever since.

While the ancient Egyptians seemingly felt comfortable bestowing gold, silver and clothing on the Hebrews, this act is seen by some as more of a taking than a giving. In 2003, Nabil Hilmy, then dean of the faculty of law at Egypt’s Zagazig University, planned to sue the Jews of the world for the trillions of dollars that he claimed the ancient Hebrews had taken from his country. He theorized: “If we assume that the weight of what was stolen was one ton” and its worth “doubled every 20 years, even if annual interest is only 5% … hence, after 1,000 years, it would be worth 1,125,898,240 million tons.… This is for one stolen ton. The stolen gold is estimated at 300 tons, and it was not stolen for 1,000 years, but for 5,758 years, by the Jewish reckoning. Therefore, the debt is very large.”

That the Egyptians gave the Israelites gifts – willingly or not – is noteworthy. Significantly, in the article “Letting Go,” the late Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks notes that Deuteronomy 23:7 tells us that we should not hate Egyptians because you lived as a stranger in their land.

“A people driven by hate are not – cannot be – free,” writes Sacks. “Had the people carried with them a burden of hatred and a desire for revenge, Moses would have taken the Israelites out of Egypt, but he would not have taken Egypt out of the Israelites. They would still be there, bound by chains of anger as restricting as any metal. To be free you have to let go of hate.”

The gifts of gold and silver allowed the former slaves to reach some kind of emotional closure; to feel that a new chapter was beginning; to leave without anger and a sense of humiliation.

Further, Sacks cites 20th-century commentator Benno Jacob, who “translated the word venitzaltem in Exodus 3:22 as ‘you shall save,’ not ‘you shall despoil’ the Egyptians. The gifts they took from their neighbours were intended, Jacob argues, to persuade the Israelites that it was not the Egyptians as a whole, only Pharaoh and the leadership, who were responsible for their enslavement…. They were meant to save the Egyptians from any possible future revenge by Israel.”

This is something to contemplate as we read the Haggadah at our seder this year.

Deborah Rubin Fields is an Israel-based features writer. She is also the author of Take a Peek Inside: A Child’s Guide to Radiology Exams, published in English, Hebrew and Arabic.

About the 2025 Passover cover

After the Israelites escape from Egypt and the Sea of Reeds has returned to its normal flow, with the enslavers either drowned or on the opposite side, Miriam leads the women in singing a song of praise. Apparently, it is the only time in the Torah where women are recorded as seinging their own song.

They did so with instruments they had brought along with whatever necessities one takes when fleeing a bad situation. The women had such a strong belief that they and their people would be free, that there would be occasions to celebrate with song, music, dance, that they made room among their provisions for instruments.

Miriam is older than her brothers Moses and Aaron. “Having been born at the time when the bitter enslavement began, her parents named her ‘Miriam’ (from the Hebrew word meaning ‘bitterness’),” explains an article on chabad.org. However, she was anything but bitter. She was extraordinarily hopeful, continually thinking of the future and how it would be better.

“Miriam was about 6 years old when Pharaoh decreed that all Israelite baby boys be killed,” notes another chabad.org article. “Hearing this, Miriam’s father, Amram, divorced his wife, Yocheved, because he couldn’t bear the possibility of having a son who would be killed. Seeing the actions of Amram, one of the leaders of the generation, all of the other Israelite men followed and divorced their wives as well.

“Miriam told her father, ‘Your act is worse than Pharaoh’s! He decreed that only male children not be permitted to live, but you decreed the same fate for both male and female children!’ She then predicted that her parents would give birth to a son who would save Israel from Egypt.”

The young girl convinced her father to remarry her mother; the other men remarried their wives, as well. Moses and Aaron would not have been born, the Israelites would not have been freed, if not for Miriam.

She also looked over Moses after Yocheved placed him in a basket in the Nile to save him from Pharaoh’s decree. Miriam made sure that Pharaoh’s daughter, Batyah, who rescued Moses, chose Yocheved as his wet-nurse.

There are other stories of Miriam’s courage. Another translation of her name is “rebellion,” and she lives up to this interpretation in many ways. She and her mother were among the midwives who defied Pharaoh’s order to kill any Hebrew boys born, for example, and Miriam is said to have spoken up to Pharaoh when she was only 5 years old.

The multiple symbolisms of Miriam and the often-overlooked importance of women throughout history seemed to call for a medium of similar complexity with roots as ancient. And so, I chose embroidery as the means to express the image of Miriam, timbrel in hand, optimistic about her people’s future, the Sea of Reeds and their lives as slaves behind them.

In every generation …

This year, the Jewish community will greet Passover with mixed emotions. On a holiday where we celebrate the 3,500-year-old Exodus from Egyptian slavery to freedom, we also mourn the modern-day hostages held captive for so long and the loss of those who will never return to their loved ones.

Passover offers a unique opportunity for families and friends to gather around the seder table, retell the story of the Exodus, eat symbolic foods and, most challenging of all, attempt to keep the younger children engaged until the meal.

It can be difficult to explain to our children the enduring importance of Passover – a tale of survival, courage and resilience. The story of the Jewish people facing an impossible obstacle and conquering it, of our people standing up against oppression, proud of our Jewish identity, confronting and overcoming baseless hatred.

For more than a year, Jewish students have been made to feel othered, embarrassed, threatened and, sometimes, compelled to hide their Jewish identity. Since Oct. 7, 2023, online Jew-hatred and anti-Israel vitriol have become all too common. While cities, overrun by hate-filled protests, seem almost completely desensitized to the hate, we see our children suffering.

An excerpt from the Passover Haggadah reminds us that “in every generation, one must see oneself as having personally come forth from Egypt … and you will tell your child on that day.…” As we sit down at the seder table this year, we will, once again, tell the next generation the story of the Jewish people’s victory against oppression and that pride in our identity is the way to fight oppression.

The younger guests at our seder – our children, our grandchildren, our nieces and nephews – are the next generation of leaders. It will be their responsibility to challenge antisemitism head-on, and it’s our responsibility to educate them about how to do it.

The Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs remains committed to protecting the quality of Jewish life in Canada. Our team is working with government officials to advocate for the introduction of safe access (bubble) legislation to protect schools and places of worship from the threat of violence or harassment. We are also advocating to enforce existing legislation that combats both online and real-world hate.

We continue to demand accountability from social media platforms, institutions and organizations. We urge the government to support the provinces’ education for judges, Crown attorneys and law enforcement regarding antisemitism and hate crimes. We continue to stand by our policy priorities that include advocating for community safety, for maintaining public order and for fighting antisemitism in schools and on campus.

The community, after a long year-and-a-half, is tired. Some of us are scared. And yet, we remain proud. We know more work must be done to protect ourselves, our children and our Jewish identity. So, this year, as we retell our ancestors’ story to our children, we are reminded that we remember the past to protect our present – and our children’s future. It starts at the seder table. But it doesn’t end there.

Judy Zelikovitz is vice-president, university and local partner services, at the Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs.

About the 2024 Rosh Hashanah cover

I came across this Rosh Hashanah greeting card in the 2017 Forward article “The Curious History of Rosh Hashanah Cards in Yiddish” by Rami Neudorfer. The image was copyrighted by the Hebrew Publishing Company, New York, 1909, and the high-resolution version we used for the cover comes from the postcard collection of Prof. Shalom Sabar (emeritus) of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem.

“The card depicts two eagles in the sky: under the Imperial Eagle of the Russian coat of arms, a group of impoverished, traditionally dressed Russian Jews, carrying their meagre belongings, line Europe’s shore, gazing with hope across the ocean,” wrote Neudorfer. “Waiting for them are their Americanized relatives, whose outstretched arms simultaneously beckon and welcome them to their new home. Above them, an American eagle clutches a banner with a line from Psalms: ‘Shelter us in the shadow of Your wings.’”

Not only did Prof. Sabar provide the image for the cover but he offered further explanation of the card’s meaning. The verse quoted is partially based on Psalms 57:2; the fuller quote is taken from Psalms 17:8 – “Hide me in the shadow of Your wings.” In the illustration, the quote is changed to be in the plural: “Hide us in the shadow of Your wings.” And it appears in this form in the Ashkenazi siddur, where it is part of the Hashkivenu prayer, said Sabar. The full text can be found at sefaria.org.il/sheets/29587?lang=bi, where they translate the phrase as “and cradle us in the shadow of your wings.”

The message of a passage to freedom is not only enhanced by the Psalms quote, but also that the birds depicted are eagles, Sabar added. This is a reference to the liberation of the Jews from Egypt, he said, as in Exodus 19:4 – “You have seen what I did to the Egyptians, and [how] I bore you on eagles’ wings, and I brought you to Me.”

Past, present & future

Jewish tradition says that all Jews were at Sinai. The people of Israel who fled Egypt received the Torah, but not just the travelers from the Exodus story were there. In the Jewish narrative, the handing down of the word was so definitive and essential that even Jews not yet in existence – up to the present day and on into forever – were said to have been present when Moses descended from the mountain. So profound was this moment that every Jew in all of eternity needed to be there to witness it.

Talk about togetherness! A people who humour portrays as intrinsically divided – “two Jews, three opinions”; the lone Jew rescued from the desert island who had built two synagogues (“The one I attend and the one I’d never set foot in”); “Everyone to the right of me is meshugenah, everyone to the left of me is a goy”; the jokes are endless – all in the same place at the same time, all united (well, except for the little golden calf incident).

It is tempting to imagine the Jewish people today as more divided than ever, at least in recent memory, especially in contrast with the aforementioned story of togetherness across all time and space. The various divisions in the local and global Jewish community are exacerbated by significant divisions in the body politic in Israel.

It may be true. Perspective on the forest is difficult when you are surrounded by trees. The present reality depends on the future. If the current political situation in Israel proves to be an aberration – if the proposed judicial reforms were to fail, say, and attempts to impose a more permanent intolerant conservative and religious imprint should falter – future Jews might look back on this moment as just one of Jewish history’s eras of communal discord. On the other hand, the future may cite this critical moment as a turning point.

There have been many turning points in Jewish history, of course. The Exodus was a pretty big one. Another big one was the declaration of the state of Israel, tangibly marked by the signing of the Declaration of Independence. And there have been many more turning points in between.

In an article recently, the chairman of the World Zionist Organization, Yaakov Hagoel, makes an interesting historical connection. Like the unity at Sinai, he argues that all Jews were present in Tel Aviv on that day in May 1948, each adding their name to that historic scroll.

“Beside the 37 actual signatures on it,” he writes, “there are millions more invisible signatures. Everyone has signed the Declaration. Each of us with his own special pen, values, stories and hopes. Over the years, we learned to unite around the Declaration, adding more and more signatures. Today, the Declaration is the basis of Israeli identity for all.”

The Declaration is indeed a model of compromise and inclusion. Notably, the inclusion of the “Rock of Israel,” which could be interpreted as God by the religious or literally as the rock, the land itself, for those of a less traditional bent.

Today, some enemies (and, frankly, some friends) depict Zionism as inherently a right-wing ideology. Of course, it is not. The belief that Jews have the right to national self-determination transcends politics. Zionism is not left, right, centre or limited to any other segment. It is a universal belief, inclusive of all who believe in the right of Jews to be “a free people in our own land.”

This is a pretty idea, easier in theory than in practice. Recently in this space, we lamented the large number of Israelis who say they are prepared to abandon the enterprise and leave Israel. We cannot judge people for the choices they make in their lives. Israel is not an easy place to live. Most, if not all, of us reading this right now do not live in Israel. We can, though, do everything in our power to advance an Israel and a Zionism that is inclusive … a Zionism that recognizes the diversity – as well as the unity, obscure though it may seem at times – among the Jewish people. We can commit what voice and power we have to advancing an Israel that not only encourages those already there to stay, but makes it a welcoming homeland for Jews everywhere, both in the present and in the future. Even, we might add, an Israel that is welcoming to Jews of the past – that is, respectful of the diversity they represented. The 37 diverse Jews who put pen to parchment 75 years ago represented the spectrum of Jewish ideas and visions at the time. The least we can do is attempt to do the same.

A Passover chuckle …

A new story every year

Each year, we revisit the same Torah portions but, while the words remain the same, our understandings change based on what is happening in our world or in our lives. The exodus story, the story of Passover, remains as relevant as ever, as people in many parts of the world are being oppressed, are stateless or are living amid war.

As Russia’s attack on Ukraine continues, citizens of that besieged country are seeking refuge in neighbouring states. It does not appear, at present, that Jewish Ukrainians are suffering any more or less than any other citizens of that state. However, history has shown that whenever and wherever upheaval occurs, it almost inevitably affects Jewish people in some particular way.

The age-old question, “What does it mean for the Jews?” is an acknowledgement that events that ostensibly appear unrelated to Jewish people specifically will have unique consequences for Jews.

As Russia’s invasion has faced an unexpected reply from the Ukrainian military and people, the risk of Vladimir Putin being backed into a corner opens the door to worrying potentials. He has already made threatening noises about chemical weapons and, even more worryingly, nuclear weapons – the very suggestions being an untenable line to cross for any nuclear-capable world leader.

It should be remembered, but it has been too infrequently mentioned during this crisis, that Ukraine once had the third-largest nuclear arsenal in the world, a legacy of the dismantling of the Soviet Union. In 1994, Ukraine was persuaded to transfer its entire arsenal to Russia to be decommissioned with the promise from the Western world that we would ensure that country’s security in return. As Ukraine’s President Volodymyr Zelensky continues his virtual global tour, prevailing upon the West to provide more military aid, we should remember that he is asking for the Western world to fulfil the promise it made to his country less than three decades ago.

We should also not need reminding that the existence of a Jewish state is a modern miracle that provides a place of refuge, mere decades after the absence of a homeland led to Jewish history’s worst cataclysm. There are some 200,000 Ukrainians who would qualify for Israeli citizenship under the Law of Return, and planeloads of Jewish Ukrainians are making their way to Israel, fleeing a modern-day pharaoh.

Of course, the land of milk and honey is, in reality, a real-world country facing an enormous range of problems. Recent terror attacks have some people fearing a third intifada or, at least, a season of upheaval like we saw last year when violence erupted. In turn, that hostility spread worldwide, with spikes in antisemitic incidents around the world, including in Canada. While Jews are securely ensconced in the Promised Land, Israelis still seek liberation from the figurative enslavement by terrorists and their supporters. And, at the same time, Palestinians also do not have the freedom they desire and deserve. This latest violence does not serve either people’s dreams of peace or justice; it further enslaves us to cycles of justifications of more violence and pain.

Meanwhile, Jewish families in North America are excited to return to comparatively normal seders and celebrations after two years of pandemic. This is itself a form of liberation. As we reenact the ancient exodus at our seder tables, we will hope for and commit ourselves to a world where all who are oppressed find freedom. This is not a rote rereading and it is not a theoretical wish. In a world with so many challenges and dangers, the story of escape from bondage remains as relevant and urgent as ever.

This year’s Passover cover

Having spent so much time with my Israelites for last year’s Passover cover photo shoot, I thought it would be nice to see where they ended up. They successfully exodused from Metaphorical Egypt, as COVID was just getting started, and are now living in various places around the world. With the exception of Moses, who is still wandering the desert (but with good wi-fi), they all have solid roofs over their heads and are relatively sedentary, especially now, during COVID. They’ve kept in touch and are marking their one-year anniversary in freedom with a Zoom seder, as depicted on this year’s Passover cover. They offer holiday greetings in English, French, Spanish, Judesmo (or Judeo-Spanish), Hebrew, Yiddish, Portuguese and Russian.

While one of the Israelites couldn’t join the online gathering for the first night of Passover, as he doesn’t Zoom on the holy days, he does send his best wishes in the language of your choosing. My hope for them is my wish for all of us – that, next year, we can all gather together in-person with our loved ones, whether they be in Jerusalem, Vancouver or anywhere in between. And that we can do so without the need for masks, sanitizer or social distancing.

Singing about national miracles

“The Crossing of the Red Sea,” a painting by Nicolas Poussin, which was commissioned in 1632. It can be found at the National Gallery of Victoria in Melbourne, Australia. (photo by Nicholas Poussin via Wikimedia Commons)

The Israelites left Egypt on the first day of Passover, but the Egyptians didn’t leave them until the sea separated them forever on the seventh day. By celebrating Passover for seven days, we celebrate ambivalent feelings of joy and stress. Shabbat Shira – the Shabbat whose Torah portion contains the song sung by Israel after the splitting of the Red Sea – invites us to focus on the miracle of Passover’s seventh day.

Just imagine the unbearable stress when Israel was caught in a death trap between the Egyptians and the sea, the shouts, cries and prayers. Imagine the hand of Moses raised, the long and dark night between the protecting pillar of fire and the cloud, the great wind splitting the sea in two, the first steps into the water, crossing on dry land, seeing the vicious enemy destroyed.

It is not surprising that it resulted in an epic song. While evil was drowned in deep water, happiness flooded Israel. Only a heartless man wouldn’t sing. How many of us are capable of imagining this and meaning what they say in Exodus (15:1-2): “Sing to God…. This is my God, and I will glorify Him.” What a great national miracle that was, once upon a time.

Is this episode still relevant for us today? When we think of the Sinai revelation, it’s clear – we have the Torah. But is something left from the Song at the Sea? If the answer is yes, what is the key for finding meaning?

Our sages interpreted the future tense of the song as indicating a song that hasn’t yet been sung. Thus, for example, they say, “It is not written, ‘then Moshe sang,’ but ‘will sing.’” The sages also attributed a double reading to the words “Elohai avi” – they read it as both, “the God of my fathers,” and “God is my father.” They elaborated on the significance of the song to “every single generation.”

Indeed, the secret for singing a song of faith lays in this verse. My teacher, Rabbi Prof. David Hartman, used to point out that the coin has two sides. Many can tell about our own God; many can tell stories about the God of our fathers. The secret of the Jewish people lays in the way we identify our own God with the God of our fathers.

My grandmother, Savta Privah, sang her personal song at the sea more than 70 years ago, when she was liberated from Auschwitz. On her way from the refugee camps to Israel, she told my grandfather, “Now that we are making aliyah to Israel, from now on, we are Zionists.”

Going down from the ship, my grandfather, Saba Menachem, was asked for his occupation. He had lost his parents at a young age and had worked for his living even before the Holocaust.

“I’m a tinsmith,” he said.

Very well, they said, register with the labour union and we will find you a job.

“I had enough red flags in Europe,” my grandfather said, and established his own business.

Ironically, he found work at Mishmar Ha’Emek, one of the most anti-traditional Israeli kibbutzim. He was the only observant employee. Back then, they had two dining rooms, one for the young kibbutznikim and another one for the elders, because only they kept kosher.

My grandfather – a young man at that time – used to eat with the elders. One day, Shoshana Hazan, mother of Yaakov Hazan, leader of the Shomer Hatza’ir youth movement, came to his table with two Shabbat candlesticks.

“These are our family silver Shabbat candlesticks,” she said, “but my daughter-in-law would never use them. Take them to your wife to light Shabbat candles.”