In prison, seeing a flame is rare.
Tonight, dozens of them adorned folding tables near the glass front doors of the chapel, colorful wax candles stuck in ubiquitous tin Chanukah Menorahs, lit by Jewish men from Israel, Germany, Latin America, the United States, and Florida.
Some men sat and stared at the fire for a bit longer, savoring the flickering light.
The candles are handed out, just enough per man in prison, by the assistant chaplain — a caring young man covered in Christian tattoos and a perpetual smile, eager to help people of all faiths express their beliefs.
There are no loose candles allowed to float around prison, so we don’t get to hold the box and pick which color candles we want (I got red and white). No fires allowed elsewhere on compound, for sure. There’s only one lighter, held by the chaplain, so we all lit our Shamash candles from one another’s flames, a visual metaphor for how guys support one-another in prison. A common lesson in Jewish sermons is that like the flame of a candle, when you give hope or knowledge, yours is not diminished.
There is something special about singing the blessings and Chanukah songs side-by-side with men for whom a flame is its own Chanukah gift.
There is something even more special standing by friends for whom this is their first Chanukah experience.
Chanukah has always felt like a magical time for me, ever since I was a child. When you’re a kid, it’s a time for getting gifts, chocolate, jelly donuts, fried potato latkes, and singing songs with your family… songs which last too long when there are gifts to open. “Yes, yes, we won, we got the temple back, one day of oil lasted for eight days, great. Speed it up…I have wrapping paper to tear.” When you’re an adult, it’s a remembrance of those childhood times, and a reminder of the incredible, faith-driven perseverance embedded into the Jewish people.
Here, there were no gifts, no potato latkes, no jelly donuts.
The kosher dinner was 2 hotdogs hovering in some sort of salty supervillain liquid with beans you only see in prison TV dinners… there were some cubed bits of potato though. Prison latkes.
After we lit candles, we davened Maariv, the evening prayer. Normally you say it quietly to yourself, even in a minyan. But tonight, two guys now learning Hebrew, Bek and Zater, stood by my sides and I read the Shema and Amidah quietly and slowly, loud enough for them to follow along as I ran my finger over the coinciding English words. You could feel how much they cared about the prayer, how into it they were. I was with them, they were with G-d.
It was like experiencing the prayers for the first time. Standing between two brothers, helping them pray and connect with their faith, our G-d, and our people’s traditions, was a gift. I held back a tear, grateful I could be here tonight. I’d never have believed it, but you can be grateful to be in prison — though it’s easier for me because I know I’ll be leaving soon, G-d willing.
I highly recommend coming to volunteer for those who can. Chaplaincies have programs to allow volunteers, and seeing an outside face is a huge boost for guys inside.
Prison reminds me repeatedly of the many gifts we already have in life, which we so easily take for-granted.
My parents gifted me not just toys, but a childhood rich in education in English, Hebrew, Judaic studies, art, music… here it’s easy to appreciate how rare and valuable those gifts are. About 30% of the BOP does not have a GED or High School diploma. Few have even been gifted an art or music class. Many therefore feel unable to do things, though surely they could. The gift of an education is something we take for-granted, until we are surrounded by those deprived of one.
Bek’s face lit up like a child as he told me and Zater about all the Jewish books our friend Mark sent him. He was super excited for a book on how to read Hebrew. “I thought it was a difficult language, but it’s simple, and he starts to explain the shapes of the letters.” The book is on how to read Hebrew in 6 weeks. Bek got the book yesterday and is on week 3. Like the friend who sent the books, he’s super smart. What a gift my parents gave me to learn Hebrew from a young age. What a gift to experience Bek’s joy and excitement, and what a gift it has been to have a friend like Mark.
Think about those things you know, those skills, languages, bits of history, songs… think about those times you got to experience a great concert, or an incredible album, or visit a breathtaking museum. Think about friend and family and the acts of kindness they have done for you. These things are still in your mind and in your heart, gifts you carry with you.
In prison on Chanukah, you remember the incredible gifts you already have.
If you’re outside prison, consider the gift you have of being able to go where you want tonight, eat what you want, watch what you want, call whomever you want. Consider the gift of knowing tomorrow you will wake up in your own bed, clean, sanitary, safe. These are gifts. Hopefully, you never have to appreciate how valuable they truly are.
Some of these men have been apart from family for years, some for more than a decade, some for decades.
Being with family is a gift, even on those nights it might not feel like one.
If you’d like to send Chanukah gifts to guys in prison, you can send books! And letters! They REALLY appreciate it, and when they are free, they leave the books for the folks still inside. If you’d like to send guys here books or letters, let me know and I can give you some names, and suggestions for books. (You an also add money to a man or woman in prison’s commissary account using their name and register ID, so I guess that would be “Chanukah Gelt”, but check first because there may be restrictions).
During difficult times, gratitude gets you through. During great times, gratitude helps you appreciate the moment even more.
Chanukah isn’t really about gifts, that’s an overly-simplified view, among other things, it’s about persevering against the odds, with faith, motivated by your values. But there are few greater Jewish values than gratitude, and there are few more powerful ways to persevere than thinking of all the amazing people, experiences, freedoms, and things you have in your life.
Thank you for reading these and being my friends. You are a gift.
Happy Chanukah, Ari ===========
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Important: Check before sending anything to anyone in prison to ensure you’re in compliance with the rules. For example, you cannot send books directly, they must come from the publisher or online retailer directly, and you should check before sending that the person is allowed to recieve them.
