Welcome to our new Assistant Teacher in the Preschool. Debbie Kalbach has spent many years working in preschools and schools as an accomplished and trusted assistant teacher. We are thrilled to have her join us.
On Wednesday’s Meeting For Worship, Avi stood to share what Hanukkah meant to him and his family. Mr. Abramowitz helped us understand the menorah and how the candles were lit. Then they used the shamash to light the other four candles. Our theme this month is Darkness and Light. I have had Mary Chapin Carpenter’s song “Come Darkness, Come Light” playing in my head. While these are the shortest days, they are not without joy and light/Light.
Announcements:
- Parents and Guardians Council Meeting, Tuesday, December 7 on ZOOM at 7:00 pm
- Poinsettia pickup Tuesday, December 7 at 3:00 pm (pickup line)
- Thursday, December 9 at 10:30 am COVID testing in the Meeting House. Please RSVP
- Thursday, December 16 at 10:30 am COVID testing in the Meeting House. Please RSVP
- Friday, December 17th at 10:30 am Holiday Music Program on ZOOM
What I am reading:
A Little Book of Courage for the Big Pandemic
by Cheri Lovre
|
The Three Robbers by Tomi Ungerer |
"Shadow and Light Source Both"
By Jalal al-Din Rumi
How does a part of the world leave the world?
How does wetness leave water?
Dont' try to put out fire by throwing on
more fire! Don't wash a wound with blood.
No matter how fast you run, your shadow
keeps up. Sometimes it's in front!
Only full overhead sun diminishes your shadow.
But that shadow has been serving you.
What hurts you, blesses you. Darkness is
your candle. Your boundaries are your quest.
I could explain this, but it will break the
glass cover on your heart, and there's no
fixing that.
You must have shadow and light source both.
Listen, and lay your head under the tree of awe.
When from that tree feathers and wings sprout on you,
be quieter than a dove. Don't even open your mouth for
even a coo.
"Chanukah Lights Tonight"
By Steven Schneider
Our annual prairie Chanukah party—
latkes, kugel, cherry blintzes.
Friends arrive from nearby towns
and dance the twist to “Chanukah Lights Tonight,”
spin like a dreidel to a klezmer hit.
The candles flicker in the window.
Outside, ponderosa pines are tied in red bows.
If you squint,
the neighbors’ Christmas lights
look like the Omaha skyline.
The smell of oil is in the air.
We drift off to childhood
where we spent our gelt
on baseball cards and matinees,
cream sodas and potato knishes.
No delis in our neighborhood,
only the wind howling over the crushed corn stalks.
Inside, we try to sweep the darkness out,
waiting for the Messiah to knock,
wanting to know if he can join the party.