“Kol z’man she’haner dolek, efshar l’takain”
“As long as the candle is still lit, it is possible to fix…”
It was a cold, dark evening. Not a star glittered in the sky, nor did the moon light up with even the tiniest flicker. Clouds hung over the dusky sky, and a chill wind sliced through the thin walls of the simple houses. Men hurried home from Ma’ariv (evening prayer), their coats clutched about them.
The Rebbe in his long black coat, walked alone. He passed his students by hurrying out of shul through a side door before they realized it. He was lost in deep thought, and did not wish to be distracted.
“Ribono Shel Olam,” he sighed to himself. “I am getting older, yet there is still so much I have yet to accomplish. People come to me for advice, considering me a complete saint, but only You, Merciful One can clearly see my lackings – I am far from complete. What will be? There is so little time. So little time. It is said that it can take a lifetime to change a habit, and it is late. Oh, Ribono shel Olam, it is so late!”
Suddenly, a small flicker of light caught his attention. As if in a trance, he walked slowly toward the glow. He found himself before the shop of Yossele the tailor. The Rebbe entered slowly, not quite sure why he was driven to pursue the tiny ray of light that had penetrated his introspection.
He stood in the doorway, fascinated. Yossele sat hunched over a tiny candle; a half finished garment in one hand and an almost invisible threaded needle in the other. In a gentle, rhythmic motion, he pushed the needle through the garment, and pulled it, drawing the thread tight. The small flame flickered to and fro as Yossele pushed the needle, and pulled it tight.
Push the needle and pull it tight…
The Rebbe stood silently for a moment, watching Yossele’s eyes squinting in concentration by the light of the candle stub.
Push the needle and pull it tight…
“Yossele,” the Rebbe spoke softly. “Yossele, why don’t you stop now? It is dark, and the night is cold.”
Yossele looked up at the Rebbe. His eyes seemed to glow with a gentle intensity that outshown the glow of the candle.
“But Rebbe,” he almost whispered, his hands never ceasing to push the needle through and pull it tight, “There is much to fix…”
The Rebbe’s eyes swept over the room, taking in the piles of clothing waiting to be mended.
“Rebbe,” the tailor repeated almost reproachfully, “As long as the candle is burning, one can sill fix . . .”
Push the needle and pull it tight…
The Rebbe’s eyes widened, He felt an all-encompassing lightness overtake him. He was free of his burden.
“Ribono shel Olam! Now I understand! As long as the candle is still burning, one can fix . . . and mend . . . his soul . . .
one . . .stitch . . .at a time…”
Push the needle and pull it tight…
Kol z’man she’haner dolek, efshar l’takain.
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Tags: Chanukah, Holiday, Holidays, Rabbi's thoughts and teaching, Stories by Rabbi
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