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Illuminating a Jewish Nursing Home

Illuminating a Jewish Nursing Home


Newly graduated from college, I was hired as an art therapist in the recreation department of a Jewish nursing home. Despite its Jewish name, my nine female colleagues were all non-Jewish, as were half of the residents of the facility. It was not unusual to hear grumblings emerging from various cubicles, but as the weekend approached, I was surprised to hear the groans increase.

“What’s the big deal about Friday?” I asked the group. “Aren’t you guys excited to have the weekend off?”

“Friday means candle-lighting. It’s such a pain . . . ”Diane, positioned in the corner cubicle, answered delicately. “We don’t want to offend you, Miriam, because we know you’re Jewish. But Friday means candle-lighting. It’s such a pain . . . ”

Courtney, another coworker, rattled off the blessing on the candles, “Baruch atah . . . asher kideshanu bemitzvotav vetzivanu lehadlik ner shel Shabbat!” Surprised and confused, I had to laugh at her perfect pronunciation of the Hebrew words, usually difficult for those unfamiliar with the language.

“But what’s the big deal?” I wondered aloud. I had seen the beautiful candelabra room, lined on three sides with pairs of silver candlesticks and decorated with elaborate stained-glass windows. Every Friday at 3 p.m., residents were given the opportunity to light candles for Shabbat.

My coworkers explained that basically, it was a drag. Each staff member was assigned a different unit, assisting residents one by one to the candelabra room. Every resident had the opportunity to enter privately, and with Marla’s help, made the Shabbat blessing. Marla, the director of resident life, was our boss. She was also the only other Jewish member of our department. Apparently, she let the residents take their time, which dragged out the proceedings even more, and the staff always had to rush to leave at the end of the shift.

I didn’t quite get it. But since Shabbat came early in winter, close to 4 p.m., I had arranged to leave work early on Fridays and work extra hours on Sundays. As a result, I did not experience candle-lighting in person until a few months later. For a while, each time the subject of candle-lighting came up in the department, I would cringe inside and remain silent. It upset me that the residents were guided by resentful staff when they performed this mitzvah.

It was a pleasant morning in February when Marla called me to her office. She explained that she was going away for two weeks, and asked if I would agree to “do” candle-lighting for the two Fridays she’d be gone. “I know the other girls think they can do it, but I would never agree,” she said flatly, and our eyes met. I agreed silently with her unspoken statement. How can someone who has never experienced the holiness of this mitzvah help another experience it?

I agreed to help out. I believed that I was doing Marla a favor. I had no idea at the time that I would become the recipient of her favor.

Slightly nervous that first Friday, I opened the intricately carved gate guarding the quiet candelabra room. I greeted the first resident who approached and offered assistance as she lit the candles.

My apprehension disappeared as the atmosphere in the room shifted. I felt physically enveloped in the holiness as I watched each resident enter the room and step into a private place where soul meets Creator. I was witnessing the effect of prayer on plain people, watching their faces change in response to the whispers of the soul.

How humbled I felt, and uplifted, to feel each woman’s spiritual essence. Selma, a 97-year-old woman, crying as she lit a pair of candles for herself and another for her best friend Fran, who was very ill. Helen, an elegant lady, one of the few women who walked in unassisted, whose eyes begged me to overlook her inability to remember the words of the blessing. Gertrude, a Holocaust survivor, who studied my face as I recited the blessing, but didn’t utter a word throughout the encounter. Anne, who had eloped as a young bride with her non-Jewish husband, tears running down her face as she whispered a prayer.

It was the stark realization that age is a continuation of youth

It was the stark realization that age is a continuation of youth; that generations of women have grown old lighting candles week after week, passing on a legacy of prayer and faith to their daughters. In awe, I recognized that their faces, shadowed with hope, yearning, love and pain, were a reflection of my own as I lit candles each week. Suddenly, I grasped the strength of our mesorah, the tradition that connects generations.

The irony was beautiful. I had been lighting Shabbat candles every Friday night since I was a bride, yet never had I been so inspired by this mitzvah than in the nursing home, surrounded by elders and electric candelabras.

I was drawn back to the world when Diane motioned me out of the room. “It’s taking too long,” she whispered pointedly. “We need to be done by four!” I assured her quietly that I would speed things up. Perhaps I tried, in some sense, to hurry up, concurrently treasuring each moment until the last woman had left the room.

I was humbled and awed. I had experienced something extraordinary, and I no longer minded the Friday-afternoon grumbles of my coworkers.

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Andrea Mann Marblehead November 16, 2017

So Amazing Reply

Dvorah Newark June 18, 2016

Clearly the candle lighting is a beautiful time. I still don't understand why the people who worked in the nursing home disliked Friday. Are they afraid the place will catch fire? And why did Miriam stop finding the grumbling distressing? Shouldn't she be all the more distressed now that she has fully experienced the beauty of it? Also, if Miriam is supervising the candle-lighting, and the others are not needed for the process, why can't the others leave at 4 pm? Reply

YY November 14, 2017
in response to Dvorah:

They disliked it because it takes a very long time to do something they do not appreciate the beauty of--to them it's just lighting a couple of candles and standing there watching for an entire 15 min, time after time.

She found it distressing because she was sensitive to the feelings of her co-workers. Moods are very, very contagious...

Now that she has seen the beauty of it she is no longer deterred by what other people might think, because she no longer identifies with their point of view.

She is supervising, but as she mentioned in the beginning of the article, each co-worker was responsible for a different unit, bringing them to the room one by one in order to light candles. (Certainly Miriam couldn't by herself schlepp each resident all on her own! There are tens of them if not more, and they usually move very slowly!) Reply

JDV Paramus June 16, 2016

Nursing home I had written earlier about my experiences working in a nursing home. They are quite limited, due to govt. regulations. Not allowing Shabbos candles to burn out on their own probably is deemed a fire hazard and in no way a deliberate attempt to undermine the Jewish service. Reply

Anonymous Brooklyn June 16, 2016

Beautifully written with sensitivity. Written with feeling.
You paint a picture of soul emotions.. bringing out the auspicious moments of candle lighting... Reply

Leah bas Miriam Dallas October 20, 2014

You bring tears to my eyes, partly for the beauty of the experience of these women but partly for the blindness of the "helpers" who find the bentshing merely tedious.

How could they!!!

And how could the "home" saddle these reverent older women with "helpers" who had such contempt for sanctity?

When I had a severe burn five years ago, I was placed, for 20 days, in an institution with wound care. It was mainly an old folks' home, not Jewish.

I asked them to gather the Jewish residents (all six of them) so we could bentsh licht and make kiddush.

I was dismayed to find that afterwards the candles were blown out. I suppose they thought it was a fire hazard.

I hope the Jewish "Home" lets the candles burn out on their own. After all, they do have schacharit every morning, and they do provide kosher food. Too much salt, too much sugar, but it IS kosher. Reply

DL May 31, 2011

Beautiful! Thank you for sharing. Reply

ruth housman marshfield hills, ma May 26, 2011

to light the candles I see the small letter i in English as a candle, and if you look a it for a while, and even draw it, extending the dot, you will see a candle with flame. I love this, and see this as the soul within When we light candles, as we do when we are positive, loving, this spreads, a glow, we call it, and we do affect each other, a true kindling effect. I love it that the Sabbath candles at night in a window seem to move forward in infinite progression, into the outside by reflection.

It's really a beautiful world, and certain rituals are metaphoric and as such, beautiful, especially in sharing. Reply

Cena Abergel Los Angeles, CA May 26, 2011

My Friday morning Group For over a year now I have been going to the Retirement home that my mother lives in to light candles with the residents. It started out very innocently as something I could do to be with my mother. It has turned into one of the most inspiring moments of my life. To bring the beauty and the sanctity of the Shabbas to all of these residents who participate has given ME much more than I believe I am giving to them.
We light candles, say brachas on the wine, and bless the challah. And I must say that one of the highlights of the hour and a half that I spend with them is reading them inspiring and touching articles on the weekly Parshah. This is b'h be one of the stories for this Friday. Todah Rabah for all the insight into our beautiful heritage. Reply

Peter Jacobs Medellin, Colombia May 25, 2011

Thanks Beautifully related story, Thank You. Miracles of the Presence come at unexpected moments.
To give and to share those moments is wonder-filled. May HaShem continue to bless you with the sense of that Presence of His holiness. Reply

Anonymous May 25, 2011

Thanks for Sharing This Story It is a beautiful story. it has taught me a lot. I am not Jewish but i try to light the candles every Friday at sundown. When I started doing this I realized it was a holy time, a holy event, so I have kept on doing it. This story has taught me more about it.
Shalom. Reply

sue Kanata, Canada May 25, 2011

Sad so sad that a rabbinical student could not be present to share with the seniors every Friday. Especially someone who has survivedthe olocaust should not be abandoned, or her holy ways considered a nuisance.
Thanks so much for sharing-nursing homes can be so dire for ladies who have enjoyed a rich life otherwise. Reply

Anonymous Boise, ID May 25, 2011

Friday Candle Lighting I, too, recall the days when my mother gathered my sister and I into the "washing machine room" to light Shabbat candles and to say prayers for her loved ones in Israel. I felt the magic. However, we may also have felt other forces working against maintaining our tradition, as we thought we were the only Jewish people that we knew in 1960's Boise,ID. My Moroccan mother prayed in the memory of prophets, and her deceased mother and father, as my sister and I listened and repeated syllables we didn't understand. My sister must have felt the community isolation too strongly; she lost any feeling for traditions, just as the women in the story. I, on the other hand, rejoiced when I found other Jewish people in my town. I began the tradition again, intermittently at first, but practicing in earnest last year after my mother's passing. I am glad for the sense of inner peace and connection with souls of generations past. I look forward every week and thank G-d for the coming of Shabbat! Reply

JDV paramus, NJ May 24, 2011

nursing home I have worked in geriatrics for years and led Shabbat services for years in a variety of settings. Many of the residents had not been observant during their earlier years but always came to the services I ran. Even the non Jewish staff wanted a piece of challah but I guess liking challah is not new! Reply

Mr. Zhak Shaw May 24, 2011

Kindling the Shabbos Lights This article touched my heart and inspired my soul. Thankyou. Reply

shalvi weissman Jerusalem May 24, 2011

Beautiful! Thank you for sharing this so vividly!!! Reply

Barbara Fram Houston, Tx May 23, 2011

To Anne Russo We have a Mrs. Russo here in Houston too.

Her husband, rest his soul, used to come to every morning minyan and led us in the Birkat after breakfast.

The name is somewhat uncommon. Maybe he was related to your family? Reply

Ann Vise Nunes Houston, TX May 23, 2011

Beautiful Tears. Tightness in the throat. Joy.

* * *

Once a gentile friend invited me to spend Friday night with her. I brought my candles and a bottle of kosher grape juice.

Unlike the workers in the nursing home, she felt it. Somehow the room changed for her, too. Somehow she experienced the holy Presence of the Shabbos Bride. Somehow she, too, experienced the place where her soul meets GD.

Ever since then my own bentshing has been enriched, knowing that Gd is so present in my brachah that even strangers can feel it.

I am sure that this is true also for you, Miriam Duskis.

But I have to wonder at the women who work at the nursing home.

Did they not enter the room?
If not, OK, they are not there for it.
But if they are in the room, they would have to be made of wood to miss seeing it. Reply

Sheva Lakewood, New Jersey May 22, 2011

You have a truly beautiful soul. Thank you for sharing this story. Reply

Anne Russo Milford, CT May 22, 2011

So moved Miriam When I read the title of this article on my twitter feed I immediately thought of you and it turns out you wrote this beautiful encounter of ceremonial connectedness. Thank you for your thoughtful and descriptive words. You are an amazing woman and I was always in awe of you and held you in high regard! Many thanks for writing such an important account of honor and mitzvah, I am so moved and inspired!
Much love to you and your family!
Anne R from AMC Reply

Welcome to our candle-lighting section, where you will find the details and practicalities of lighting Shabbat candles, along with the meaning, spirituality and power of doing so . . .
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