Okay, the title is a bit misleading because it’s not a real-real menorah, it’s one of those basic brass numbers that’ll hold a row of oil cups. And I’m not filling the cups myself, or threading the wicks, I bought a case of those pre-filled cups that are stacked sky-high in the grocery store. But it’s a first, because I’ve never lit an oil menorah before. I’m a big girl now, and I’ve decided it’s time.
A few years ago I went to see The Nutcracker on Chanukah. I know. I know.
I bought the ticket right after my own dating-grief experience and I was really looking forward. I went with a friend and she didn’t want to leave to the show until her father came home from work to light the menorah. I knew it was really tight. Like uncomfortably tight. But that’s what we did.
When we saw what Waze had to say we turned on the radio. And the announcer literally said something like, “It’s bumper to bumper all over the city tonight.” It took us twice or maybe three times as long to get to Lincoln Center as it should have. As we drove, Waze just kept adding time. At a certain point, I knew we were not getting to the show on time. No way. Maybe they would let us in during a break in the first act (if we made it in time) or maybe we would have to wait until intermission. But my perfect night at the ballet was not happening.
I was bitterly disappointed from head to toe. I was really looking forward to this show. And then a Chanukah miracle happened. I felt okay. It was a breakthrough moment. I could feel disappointed and I could feel okay with the disappointment. I was able to have perspective.
I thought, maybe Hashem thinks I’m too chashuv to see the holiday party at the beginning of the ballet. Or maybe this disappointment is a big bow wrapped around the pain of the last few months and after this I’m getting my miracle present.
I just know that in that car, I came one step closer to becoming the person I want to be. It was like pressure on an olive being squeezed for oil: you don’t know you have it in you until the situation brings it out.
Shemen zayis zoch kosis l’maor. Pure olive oil, pressed for lighting.
And that’s really me and you. Shemen zayis zoch kosis l’maor. Not knowing we had any of this in us really, until this situation brought it out.
A friend told me that the pachim k’tanim of Yaakov Avinu were filled with the oil of the Chanukah story (I guess one of the pachim k’tanim was?). That’s a long time for oil to wait to burn. But what a flame.
That Chanukah I missed the first half of the first act of The Nutcracker. I did not get my miracle present soon after. I didn’t get it the next Chanukah, or the next. I can look back and count a million other miracles that got me to this Chanukah, to the miracle of my very first oil menorah, to the miracle of resilience, to the miracle of change.
Sometimes miracles take time. Sometimes the flask of oil has to remain sealed for years. Sealed but not forgotten, sealed with a miracle in potential. Shemen zayis zoch kosis l’maor, through all the pain, all the disappointment, all the humiliation, all the loneliness. Pure olive oil, pressed for lighting. And — at the part of the story where the oil is found and the seal is broken at last — oh, what a flame.
Have a freilichen, lichtigen Chanukah. Wishing you a million miracles.
P.S. (We have to do this). I’m getting the Between Carpools cookbook for Chanukah.
