With the big snowstorm of the season brewing as I type this, I wanted to share this piece I wrote about the crazy blizzard we had last year, which I also sent to Josep at the time. Stay warm, everybody!
Dec. 15th, 2013
As those of you who live in the Middle East know, we had some seriously crazy weather over the weekend. And this time the title “Snowpocalypse” is not nearly as ironic and silly as it was when we used it to describe the snowstorm in January. This one was the worst and coldest storm in modern Israeli history. We’re talking over half a meter of snow (about two feet) in Jerusalem, and even more in higher elevations, in Judea, Samaria and the North. Haifa got snow for the first time in 22 years. This part of the country was in total lockdown, and to make matters worse, damage from the winds caused a lot of disruptions in electricity so tens of thousands of people were without power during the coldest nights of the year. Thousands of people had to be rescued and evacuated, emergency shelters were set up, the Israel Electric Company declared a state of national emergency… total chaos.
And if that doesn’t sound bad enough, the worst of it had to be on Friday evening. We had no power for two and a half hours before Shabbat, making Shabbat preparation difficult to say the least; the power mercifully came back on very low tension juuust long enough before Shabbat for me to take a warm shower and for us to enjoy a warm and well-lit evening meal with our neighbors. Shortly after we came back upstairs to put the little one to bed, the power went out again, and stayed off for about 18 hours.
Did I mention that all our heating devices run on electricity? And that we are not allowed to light fires or turn on any electric devices (including battery-powered ones) on Shabbat–except in life-threatening situations?
If you’re wondering how cold it was, let’s just say our milk didn’t spoil even though the refrigerator was off for 36 hours.
We were okay overall, and the kids were mostly happy in several layers of clothing, though they kept waking up during the night because of the dark and cold and forcing us to climb out from under all our blankets to calm them. I was the most miserable of all of us. What can I do, I am used to Shabbat being about festivity and warm food and good company and good cheer. All four were significantly missing during the day as we struggled to stay warm and keep the kids from going crazy. We were supposed to have a guest over for lunch but she understandably stayed under her blankets. Eitan delivered some food to her when we finished eating, for which she was very grateful.
We didn’t even get to play in the measly inch or so of snow we got out here by the desert because we had no way to get warm afterwards!
Concerning the commandment to keep the Sabbath, God said, “Between Me and the People of Israel it shall be an eternal sign” (Exodus 31:17). Lighting the candles to signify the beginning of Shabbat always gives me the sense of “handing it all over to him”, knowing that now He is taking over, I have no more control, and I am keeping Shabbat as a sign of my love for Him and trust in Him. This Friday I was strongly reminded of the sense of extreme vulnerability–and helpless sort of hope–that I felt when I lit the candles through the cracked open, chained door to the balcony in the youth hostel in Barcelona seven years ago. The same sense of “Well, I have no idea how this is going to turn out, but God, I’m just going to have to trust You”. The electricity was still on at the time but we knew it might turn off any moment, and I just felt so grateful to have my shower and warm food waiting for us. Tears welled in my eyes as I watched the snow flutter down outside the window where our candles glowed. My four-year-old asked me what I was doing. I said I was watching the snow. He asked why. I said, “Because it’s beautiful.” I put my arm around him said, “You know… Hashem is always telling us that He loves us. He tells us all the time, by constantly giving to us. Keeping Shabbat is our way of telling Him that we love Him back.”
On the list of Most Challenging Shabbatot Ever, this one definitely outranks the one in Barcelona (for goodness’ sake, maybe I was hungry and upset, but at least I was warm, there was Ben & Jerry’s involved, and I didn’t have screaming kids to deal with!). I spent most of the time without power being cold, desperate and miserable. You know what? Being a Jew is hard. It means being totally committed to an intense and sometimes very demanding relationship with Someone whose communication with you is often very hard to interpret or even notice, and who very often doesn’t answer your requests in the way you would like or ultimately think is “right”. But at the end of the day, I know that it is worth it. I know that He knows what He is doing better than I do. And I know He’s really looking out for me, and giving me what I need–just enough pain and suffering for me to learn and grow, and more nurturing and abundance and goodness than I sometimes know what to do with. I don’t always get it, and sometimes I get angry, but as with all the relationships I’ve been reflecting on in the last couple of years, I’m learning that anger and disappointment are inherent and indispensable parts of a deep and meaningful relationship with someone, and not only do they not destroy everything, sometimes they can even have constructive power.
There is an old saying that more than the Jews keep the Sabbath, the Sabbath keeps the Jews. I used to understand this to mean that the magical atmosphere and time to focus on what’s important–our relationships with God, our families and our friends–is what gave us strength to face each difficult week throughout the centuries. But I think it is more than that. Some Shabbatot are neither magical nor joyous. Some mitzvot (commandments) are very hard to follow. Ultimately, our willingness to stay committed despite how difficult it is can bring us closer to Him, and Him closer to us. It is an eternal sign between us. Most times, it is a bed of petals. Occasionally, it is a bed of thorns. Ultimately, it is all roses.