Good Intentions

This past [Gregorian] year has been one of the more challenging I’ve experienced, and I say that even after my husband’s and sister’s unexpected health issues which transpired and dominated most of 2020 and 2021 for us, respectively. Needless to say, I’ll be thrilled to say goodbye to 2023 this coming December 31. I’m looking forward to 2024 and all it has to offer, especially since 5784 has started off to be a much needed improvement.

One of those improvements has come—shockingly—in the area of my “day job” as recent events, actions of coworkers, have eased some of the pain I endured early this year and shared here.

You will recall the antisemitic position I had to strive against to earn an accommodation for my lifestyle, for being shomer Shabbas as we say. Well, about…the end of October, as Halloween was wrapping up, a supervisor at work approached me asking when Chanukkah began this year. Strangest of all: she asked me what Chanukkah-specific activities we could do as an office to commemorate the holiday.

I think she could tell I felt like a hare caught in a trap as I stumbled over my words, figuring out how to answer this woman’s seemingly innocuous question, especially when I would assume she knew nothing of my bitter plight earlier this year—not unless there had been gossip which she partook, but that would be assuming the worst of her. Thankfully, I found my words, or Hashem filled my mouth, and I was able to provide her with the information she sought. She especially enjoyed my idea of playing dreidel, which to me was…bizarre. Even now.

Then a few weeks later, as we neared Thanksgiving, she came back, personal calendar in hand, and asked again when Chanukkah was to be sure she remembered and wanted help figuring out when we could do a party, game, activity, or some other holiday-themed morale thing. After we discussed possible dates, her countenance changed, and her voice turned a bit serious as she asked me, “Are you okay?”

Confused, not knowing why she’d be asking me such a question, I replied with the standard, “Fine.”

“No; are you okay?” She emphasised, and immediately I knew what she meant, even though she added, “Because of everything that’s going on [in Israel].”

If I had been flabbergasted before, now I was struck dumb.

I didn’t know how to respond to this woman’s genuine—yes, genuine, as I came to realise hours later even if in the moment I questioned her sincerity—interest in my well-being. I shared with her about the recent antisemitic attacks my friends and their children were enduring, but reassured her that, B”H, I had yet to have my own. (Didn’t add that I thought it surprising considering what transpired in March.) She sighed in, again, genuine relief and then in sincere vulnerability shared, “I just can’t understand why people are supporting terrorists…I’m a conservative Christian, I appreciate the Jewish people so much. We would not exist without you. If you go back far enough, technically, that’s where we came from. Just know there are non-Jews out there that support you and hate what is happening to Israel.”

My usual urge to poke at her theological interpretation of the past died on my tongue in utter speechlessness.

Here I had felt so alone, so without any kind person to rely upon, and this woman was offering me that hand to pull me out of the darkness and back into the light—and at the job where I had only endured my own antisemitism months earlier. Hours later, as I retold the encounter to a group of friends, my eyes welled up with tears. Her honest declaration of appreciation touched me so deeply.

I whispered to Hashem, “I understand now. This is why I’ve stayed here. This is why.”

You see, and I don’t recall everything I said in my past post retelling the events I endured back in March, so I might be repeating myself—since then, I have been adamantly searching for new employment anywhere that could be safer than where I currently am. During my search, and after the many “failed” attempts at getting hired at a new job, the constant question on my lips for Hashem was, “When?”

I questioned the delay in His response to my prayers. We all often do. It is to be human. We think ourselves mightier than our Maker, and thus challenge His authority and sovereignty. However, I couldn’t see what He saw. I couldn’t see that He had gone before me and prepared my way, that He used my struggles to bring awareness to people’s ignorance as much as their lack of compassion, advocacy, and more.

Did it hurt? Of course it did. It hurt like hell going through that. I hated every moment of it, but so often, we forget that our lives our not our own just as I forgot.

And you know what the best part of this story is? Do you want to know the ending?

My office is openly celebrating Chanukkah with me.

Sure, they might only be doing the minimum, but as I can hear my rebbetzin say, “Dayenu.”

One of the other ladies approached me about a week before Thanksgiving asking what crafting activity I could do as an alternative instead of colouring my own ornament for their office Christmas tree. I told her I didn’t have anything in mind, nor did we have an equivalent. A few days later, she asked, “What about a menorah?” This simple question, this simple act of kindness, of recognition, became more as then another coworker offered to make me a Chanukkiah out of felt (no, not gelt). There is now a felt board Chanukkiah in the office for everyone to see, and each late afternoon, as it turns into evening, they are “lighting” the candles and letting the light of the menorah grow.

Funny how during this time around Chanukkah we are also reading the story of Joseph. I can’t help but be reminded of his wise words, “Although you intended me harm, G-d intended it for good.”

May the harm our enemies are committing against us and their threats be turned around for our good, to bring about the survival of many people. May we continue to trust in Hashem, that He has not abandoned us to be slaughtered, but will rise up on our behalf and destroy the wicked and evil in this world seeking to annihilate that which is most precious above all: Life.

Chag Chanukkah Sameach!