It was only a few hours on two plane rides, but where we ended up was a world away. I am talking about a trip I recently had the privilege to go on with 10 young men from Yeshiva University High School for Boys (MTA). This trip, coordinated in partnership with NCSY, brought us to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, a community that had been deeply impacted by flooding from Hurricane Florence this past September. It did not take long for our boys to realize that they were out of their usual comfort zone. While waiting at the Charlotte airport for our connection to Myrtle Beach, we were approached by a priest who had some questions about a mezuzah, a Jewish couple from Myrtle Beach who lost their business in the flooding from Hurricane Florence, and who proudly shared with us that while there are only eight Jewish families in their neighborhood, they “conduct Friday night services every week.” We then ran into a fellow traveler wearing a Tzahal sweatshirt who spotted us in our kippas and tzitzit and gave us a thumbs up and a knowing smile. As I told the boys, just another night as members of the chosen nation. These three short interactions were so powerful in that they reminded us that the vibrant Judaism of Teaneck, Monsey and the like does not exist everywhere, and that we must never take our Torah upbringing for granted.
This really set the tone for our entire trip, in which our talmidim made a conscious decision to look beyond what they normally see. Over the next two days we joined a fantastic organization called Nechama that deploys volunteers around the country to help with cleanup and recovery efforts following natural disasters. Our team split into two groups and were sent to homes that had been completely flooded in the aftermath of the storm.
In the group I worked with, we had the privilege of working with Joan, the owner of the house. She showed us the water line from the flood, and she and her kids told us about how they had to get out of the house by boat because of the high waters. Their house was in bad shape, and Joan expressed her appreciation for our arrival through tears. Under the direction of our Nechama coordinators, we got to work pulling out drywall, dismantling a bathroom and hauling out endless amounts of debris. Our goal was to help get the house cleaned out and dismantled down to its bones so contractors could come in and rebuild it.
The other group was led by NCSY superstar and my co-group leader Yonatan Glicksman. They worked at a home that also had flood damage, and they also had an opportunity to meet the owner. Their mission took on a more personal tone, as the homeowner had a son with serious disabilities and expressed her wish that the entire flood-damaged floor be removed that day so it could remain level for her wheelchair-bound son to be able to maneuver safely. Our boys rose to the occasion, stripping almost the entire floor throughout the house.
It was so meaningful for the boys to be able to meet the owners of the homes they were working on so they could appreciate firsthand how when you give, you get so much more. Simply put, the boys were crowbar- and hammer-wielding rock stars. How else do you explain teenage boys who might (occasionally) resist a parental request to take out the garbage or clean up their room, enthusiastically carry broken drywall and other debris out of a stranger’s home, with a smile and a determination to finish the job? There was an energy in these devastated homes that only comes about when a person expands their sense of self to include others, even strangers living in communities they have never been to before. In reflecting with the group at the conclusion of the trip, each young man expressed a sense of thanks and appreciation for being able to give in a way they had not done before. We talked about how these opportunities present themselves in so many different ways in our lives, but we have to make a conscious effort to seek them out, to see the need in the world. Sometimes it requires flying to South Carolina. Other times it can be right down the block or in our own shul or classroom.
It was appropriate that this trip took place in the weeks leading up to Chanukah. The Gemara in Masechet Shabbos states that the lighting of the menorah, in order to publicize the miracle of Chanukah, should be done during “prime time”—meaning, when there are people walking around to see it. This is expressed as the halachic concept of “ad shetichle regel min hashuk, until people no longer walk along the marketplace (streets).”
Rav Shimshon Dovid Pincus makes a play on the words here, explaining that the word “regel,” which literally means a “leg” and refers to people walking, can be understood as the word “ragil,” regular, normal or happenstance. The term “shuk,” which means marketplace, can be explained as how a person does his work. Using this understanding, the Gemara is then teaching us that we are to have the menorah lit “ad shetichle ragil min hashuk.” Meaning, we are to light the menorah “until all the regular way of doing things is removed from our work.”
The message is clear: Chanukah is not supposed to be about going through the motions, business as usual. Chanukah is about removing the regular, the everyday things we do by habit, without thinking, and replacing those activities with a quest for greatness.
Perhaps this is why we follow the opinion of Beit Hillel when he teaches that we start with one candle and add another to the menorah each night: because the essence of Chanukah is to grow, to keep on adding additional components of greatness, to keep on removing the regular from our lives, even if it’s really hard to do.
While working on this trip, the words of Ari Fuld, z”l, echoed in my ears: “If life is easy, you are living it wrong.” Only when we push ourselves beyond our comfort zone can we experience meaningful growth. May this Chanukah, and all the days to follow, be devoid of the regular and instead be infused with a meaning that can only come through the labor we exert, be it in a flood-damaged home in Myrtle Beach or in our own communities.
By Rabbi Dov Emerson
Rabbi Dov Emerson is the director of teaching and learning at MTA.
