The Lamplighter

[On the eighty-eighth birthday of the Reverend Leon H. Elmaleh. I gave the original typescript of this address to Professor Cyrus Gordon on his eighty-eighth birthday, which is being marked by an academic festschrift. Gordon greatly admired Elmaleh, who was his teacher.]

And the Lord spoke unto Moses saying: "Speak unto Aaron and say unto him: When thou lightest the lamps, the seven lamps shall give light in front of the candlestick." Numbers 8.1

The lighting of lamps is one of the most universal forms of religious expression, at least in its ritual aspect. It is common to practically every religion, and in some becomes almost the prime activity. Lamps are used a good deal in Judaism. They usher in the Sabbath and holidays; commemorate the anniversary of a death; recall on Hanucah the deeds of the Maccabees, and of course burn perpetually in the synagogue itself. It is interesting to observe that in families which are finding their way back to Jewish tradition one of the first customs which comes up for reinstatement is the Friday night candles.

The Rabbis investigate a little the background of the religious use of lights, and relate the following.

Israel inquired of the Almighty: Master of the universe! You tell us to kindle lights to you? You are the light of the world, and light abides with you. Daniel 2.22 God answered: It is not that I need your light. But you give light before me in the sanctuary, as I gave light before you in the desert.

And they illustrate by a parable to which I ask you to pay careful note. A blind man was being guided on a journey by a man with sight. The sighted man said to the blind man: When we enter the house, light this candle for me, so as to give us light. The blind man replied: When we were travelling you led me. Why do you ask me, a blind man, now to give you light? He answered: So that you will not feel indebted to me for having led you on the journey.

Let us put this in modern terms. The Rabbis realised the essential uselessness of ritual. So long as people believed, as they did in primitive religion, that man could by magical means force God or the gods to do his will, there was an obvious place for ritual. The Rabbis had long outgrown this idea, even though relics of it existed among them and us. They saw in ritual a different function. By it, God has given man an artificial means of doing something for him, thus relieving man of his burden of helplessness. The satisfaction derived from any esthetic act, by which I mean a work of charity, as well as painting a picture, is essentially a religious satisfaction, because it relieves the desolating feeling of helplessness and isolation to which puny man is liable, by having him engage in an activity which is essentially God-like. The religious nature of such acts is completed once we realise that the means to them are themselves from God, and thus we may combine humility with gratitude. God lights lamps for us all the time, both literally and figuratively. What do we mean when we say that someone has achieved something during his life, that he had made a contribution? We mean, so to speak, that even though man's indebtedness to God is infinite, he has somehow reduced it.

I think that such may be said for our emeritus minister, who was probably the greatest single factor in preserving this synagogue with all its religious and esthetic implications at a time when the danger was greatest. He carried it over the difficult years of the present century, and I believe that there is now not too much to fear. When people reach his age of eighty-eight years, they are often asked for a recipe how to do likewise. I shall suggest what in this case it may be. Alexander Woolcot said that everything he likes to do is either illegal, immoral or fattening. The life of our emeritus minister has, I think, been singularly devoid of all three, without taking away his sense of fun, or enjoyment of life. It is an example to imitate. If we can manage the last one, the first two will not prove too difficult.

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