For most Jews living in the Northern Hemisphere, a cherished camp memory includes sitting around a crackling bonfire in summertime, singing and listening to stories by the fire’s flickering light.
But for those south of the Equator—where Chanukah falls in the summertime—camp storytelling takes place near the quiet glow of a menorah’s soft light.
“It’s an incredibly warm memory for the children,” says Rabbi Menachem Lipskier, who directs a number of Gan Israel overnight and day camps under the rubric of Chabad Youth in Melbourne, Australia. “They surround the menorah; the staff gives out Chanukah gelt (coins); and we tell stories, play games and sing songs together.”
Since the sun sets late in summer and the menorah should be lit around nightfall, the younger children’s lighting often winds up being the culmination of an evening of celebration.
In one of the campsites, Lipskier says that more than 400 campers and staff each light their own menorah in a special tent. Due to the risk of bushfires in the Australian Outback during the dry summer season, extra care has to be put into the physical placement of the menorahs.
A staff member—dubbed an “oil man”—is responsible for setting up and watching the menorahs. Often, the shamash candle used to kindle the other flames is made by the campers themselves, either by dipping wicks into hot wax or rolling them in beeswax paper.
Lipskier, a native of Brooklyn, N.Y., acknowledges that initially, he missed the feeling of coming in from the cold to light the menorah in the cozy warmth that characterized his family’s Chanukah experience. Now, however, he has learned to appreciate the difference and the enjoyment of the Chabad House of Caulfield’s annual outdoor Chanukah festivals during long summer evenings that culminate with the menorah-lighting and fireworks.
In Manaus, Brazil—in the heart of the Amazon and the site of the 2014 World Cup this past summer—Rabbi Arieh and Dvorah Lea Raichman, co-directors of Chabad-Lubavitch of Manaus, say their biggest challenge is the rain.
“We don’t have winter and summer here,” says the rabbi of a community situated a little more than 200 miles south of the Equator. “Instead, we have the dry season and the rainy season. Since Chanukah is in the rainy season, we originally didn’t hold any outdoor celebrations. But then we felt that the spirit of Chanukah is all about publicizing the miraculous Chanukah story outdoors, where everyone can see it.”
Their celebrations since they arrived in 2009 have included a “Fiddler on the Roof”-themed event, where a menorah was actually lit on a roof, and another where a menorah was lit outside the famed Amazon Theatre in Manaus.
This year, the Raichmans are planning to light a giant menorah at the Ponta Negra beach area and expect as many as 250 participants—perhaps the largest attendance yet.
The Same, but Different
With school out of session and many families on “holiday,” Rabbi Pini Pink, director of Camp Gan Yisrael in Johannesburg, South Africa, says he holds contests and distributes small incentives to day-campers who report lighting the menorah daily. In addition, the camp distributes free menorahs to be taken home by children who would otherwise not have one of their own.
This year, he says the girls’ overnight camp is slated to overlap with Chanukah. Since the grounds are set on a secluded coastal site far from the Jewish community, the camp produces its own jelly doughnuts and other Chanukah treats. He also made the effort to invite all Jews in the area to participate in the camp’s outdoor menorah-lighting.
Yet many elements that typify the celebration remain the same.
“We have a menorah parade in central Hobart and a public menorah-lighting outside the historic Launceston Synagogue,” says Rabbi Yochanan Gordon, who co-directs Chabad of Tasmania in Australia with his wife, Rochel, “but we do it all when it’s still daytime.”
Gordon says the Talmud teaches that the proper time for lighting a menorah is from dusk—sometimes not until 9 p.m. there–until the last few stragglers are leaving the public market, in this case, the city streets.
“Since our public menorah is electric, it does not qualify for the mitzvah in any case, but if we were to wait for the proper time,” he reasons, “there would be very few stragglers indeed.”
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