By David Seidemann
They came after us—first with knives, stabbing our soldiers, citizens, and visitors wherever they could find us. It quickly became known as the “knife intifada.” Then came the fires set throughout our land, displacing thousands and scorching the earth of our sacred country. It quickly became known as the “fire intifada.”
But we have been down this road before. Our forefather Isaac was faced with imminent danger, with trial by fire and a knife as well, thousands of years ago on Mount Moriah. He survived—as we have and as we always will. We don’t have to die to prove our point or our allegiance. Once you’re dead, the test is over. The true test of allegiance to a higher being is to live according to His ways and instructions and not to die to prove that point.
It’s true, there are times when one must sacrifice his life for that greater good, but the test of Isaac and Abraham was to see if they would be willing to die for the cause and not to have them actually die for the cause. Being willing to sacrifice is a higher level of devotion than actually giving one’s life, for only when one demonstrates the willingness, yet lives to tell about it, does the test of allegiance continue.
Light was created during the six days of creation, but fire itself was not created until the first night after the first Sabbath. It was then that Adam knew he was about to enter a new, darker world where he would be tested—would he create or would he destroy? And that was the seminal moment in his life when he decided to become a luminary instead of an arsonist.
A builder sees fire as an agent for construction. An arsonist sees the same flame as a tool of destruction. A luminary sees fire as a warming agent. An arsonist uses fire to scorch and destroy. A visionary sees darkness and dreams of fire. An arsonist sees light and envisions only darkness.
Only an arsonist, and a deranged arsonist at that, would burn land he claims is his own. Perhaps he knows it’s not his land and therefore has no problem reducing it to ashes. From the moment they can strike a match, they are indoctrinated to burn and destroy instead of smelting, welding, and building. Their proclivity to destroy has done more to harm the building of their own “state” than it has done to destroy our state. Their dreams continue to go up in smoke by fires they have set themselves.
One can enlighten and create or be a purveyor of darkness and destruction. It’s a choice people make at an early stage of life. Do I bring light into this world, do I light candles that spread warmth and illuminate? Or do I burn the good earth and good opportunities that have been granted to me? So this too shall pass, and we will respond to fires of destruction with never-ending light.
There were other fires of destruction that ravaged our people, not too long ago in the dark days and darker nights of Nazi Germany. Many of those who survived those fires of hell were able to come to these shores and use fire, use passion for our heritage, to build anew. They indeed brought light to the remnant of our nation, for whom there were only yahrzeit candles, to those who thought there would never again be Chanukah candles.
But they were wrong, as in major Jewish American cities and in little cities and villages all across this land torches were lit. Jewish schools were established, synagogues flourished, kosher-certification agencies were created, scores of Jewish publications hit the shelves, mikva’os followed by eiruvin were built—and Hitler’s worst nightmare was realized. Jewish light and life had been rekindled here and in ancient Canaan, given the new name of Israel.
Chanukah lights replaced yahrzeit lamps, and warmth returned to Jewish households.
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This Sunday, my seven siblings and I—the eight of us, the eight candles that my parents bore and raised in a sea of what many ill-informed would term a spiritual darkness in a tiny Jewish community of Columbus, Ohio—will, G‑d willing, gather together with my dad, his lovely wife (my birth mother passed away 22 years ago), and my dad’s brother to celebrate a milestone birthday of my father’s.
Though we generally do not refer to our parents by their first names, I make an exception here. My dad’s Hebrew name is Meir, which means “one who gives light.” And boy, has he given us light. His dedication, together with that of my mother, may she rest in peace, not only to our education but to educating others in the ways of our heritage was legendary in our tiny community.
His keen sense of humor, his respect for all, his uncompromising adherence to religious standards set the standard. He is respected by all, religious and non-religious, Jew and gentile alike.
He used fire to warm us and to build pillars of fire that protected us, not consume us. He used fire to light the way for so many others who, until they met him, had been living in spiritual darkness.
He looked at darkness and knew that all he needed to do was to strike one match and the horror of the fires he witnessed in his youth in Germany would disappear in the darkness.
He knew how to put out fires as well, never allowing an argument or disagreement to burn out of control. He is a peacemaker, the person that our community expects to bridge the divide between light and dark. He lit up our lives and continues to do so.
So we will sit around the dining-room table this Sunday, his eight children and our spouses, and pay tribute to our dad on his special birthday. And we will pray that he has many more years to shine together with his wife, and that he continues to light the way for his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.
Most importantly, we will thank G‑d, Who has separated between the holy and the profane, between light and darkness, between Israel and the other nations, between the seventh day and the other six days of creation. “Blessed are you, L‑rd, Who has separated between the holy and the profane.” Blessed are you, L‑rd, Who allowed our temples to burn, but with fire will rebuild it.
Happy birthday, dear father.
David Seidemann is a partner with the law firm of Seidemann and Mermelstein and serves as a professor of business law at Touro College. He can be reached at 718-692-1013 or ds@lawofficesm.com.