What Was the Rabbi Thinking? 

Bangkok

Thailand 

06 December 2010 

29 Kislev 5771 

What is the Rabbi thinking as he stares off in the distance towards the huge menorah?  

Is he pausing for a moment to relax?  Is he composing his remarks for this Hanukkah celebration?  Is he praying silently? 

Moments before, Rabbi Kantor greets me as he always does – with his warm smile and gracious hospitality.  He greets the entire congregation as we enter this large Infinicity Hall located next to the cavernous cinema lobby on the fifth floor of the Siam Paragon Mall.   

Yes, Rabbi Kantor greets everyone, and there must be several hundred of us – bearded old gentlemen, bearded young Hasids and their children, and many more Jewish families and single Jewish men and women who have chosen Bangkok as their home. 

I meet my friends Eli Savranski and Harry Sharbat and Bill Deutsch and Tibor Krausz - men always so enthusiastic and energetic.  I make two new friends – Avi and his charming Thai girlfriend Jet.  Avi, an American from Long Island, teaches English here.  Jet is in the printing business.  

I meet my new Israeli friend Rafael "Rafi" Krakauer.  He is a retired physician who has spent his adult life in Denmark.  Rafi plays the violin and is a member of an amateur civic orchestra here.   

(Actually I first met Rafi at the Hanukkah celebration at the Beth Elisheva Synagogue last Wednesday.  I played “Jewish Geography” with him. "Do you know the Lauer Family in Benyamina?"

Rafi related that in 1953, he sailed from Haifa to Genoa accompanied by my cousin Moshe Lauer!  Rafi was on his way to medical school in Switzerland and Moshe was on his way to see his brother at the same school.  Rafi also remembers Moshe’s brother and sister-in-law – both retired physicians.)   

I meet my old friend Jeffrey Wachtel, his partner Neng, and their 19 month old son Dylan.  Jeffrey is a doting and playful father.   

All the while Rabbi Kantor is circulating the hall, greeting the congregants. He confers with Mrs. Kantor, the behind the scenes organizer-in-chief for this very public Hanukkah candle lighting ceremony and celebration. 

What must the Rabbi be thinking as he mingles with this crowd of more than two hundred Jews from every continent – a crowd he himself has gathered here?  Or, is he thinking humbly - only He Himself deserves the credit?  

At last, Rabbi Kantor ascends the stage at the front of the hall.  He reminds us of the significance of this eight day holiday.  He elaborates on the “other-worldliness” of the number Eight.  He congratulates us on our devotion.  We are all so very far from home, living in the midst of a very different culture. Finally, the Rabbi reaches up and lights the wicks dipped in oil on the menorah as he chants the Hanukkah blessings. 

Then…we eat. 

Middle Eastern salads, hummus, pickled vegetables, meatballs and chicken on skewers, and every Israeli’s favorite Chanukah desert, sufganiot (donuts) filled with jelly or chocolate and sprinkled with powdered sugar.  (Why do I always get heartburn?)  For the rest of us there is chocolate pudding.  Sorry, no latkes (potato pancakes).  The venue does not allow hot-cooked food on the premises. 

Then, we sing. 

Gad Elbaz, an Israeli singer leads the congregation in a variety of upbeat Chanukah–Israeli songs, including one mournful melody dedicated to fallen soldiers.  Every night during this holiday period, Gad has led the Chanukah singing in a different city in Asia - from Hong Kong to Singapore.     

Then, we (they) dance.

The music is loud and inspiring as the men grasp arms and circle the open floor.  Several men carry their kids on their shoulders.  The Rabbi joins in with his youngest son aboard.

I couldn’t help but wonder what he is thinking as he dances with the other men, arms flailing, tsitsis flying. The Rabbi is particularly pleased with my photo of him dancing, his hands waving in the air in celebration of the event.  “You’re good,” he says. 

I refrain from dancing and default to my custom of taking photographs.  I find two charming women dressed in traditional Indian clothing.  When I show them their photo, they ask me the question I have been asked several times before, both here and in India:  “Sir, are you from India?”  I always take that as a compliment.  My assumption about them is also incorrect.  One lady was a Hindu, the other a Christian.  We all have a good laugh.   

I spend the remainder of the evening chatting with my friends and watching Jeffrey play with Dylan.  The kid has spilkes.  Just like his old man, he can’t sit still for a moment.  We reckon he was high on the music and the soda and the pudding.  

I look up from the table and see the Rabbi standing alone as he watches the singing and the dancing from afar.  I wander over for a final chat.  “I am envious of you,” I said. “You have brought us all together for this beautiful evening.  If I may be secular for a moment,” I added, “You have a great profession!”

“I am wondering, Rabbi, what you are thinking and feeling now?  Is it a sense of pride? Of joy?  A feeling of accomplishment?”   

(My own sense is that Rabbi Kantor was giving thanks to HaShem for guiding him to perform this mitzvah – this Light Up the Night Grand Chanukah Party.) 

Of course the Rabbi smiles at me.  He suggests that I write about what I thought he was thinking and feeling.

And so, I have. 

Light up the night!  Every night.