The source of the word for “black” in English is the same word for “white” in Italian (bianco) and in Spanish (blanco). The Proto-Indo-European word they originate from, "bhleg," means to burn, gleam, shine or flash. Our ancient linguistic forbears stared at their cooking and heating fires. Some saw the bright flames and utilized the term to designate sparkling white, while others saw the charcoaled aftermath and saw black.
On Independence Day, I was reminded of this esoteric example of how sectors of our species derive opposite meanings and inspiration for blessing and curse, from the same source.
We Israelis, like many other nations around the world, have come to use fire and flame as symbols for both commemoration and celebration. We kindle candles on personal and national days of mourning. We light six memorial torches on Holocaust Remembrance Day and 12 celebratory beacons on Independence Day.
First noted as a custom around 600 years ago, we light bonfires on Lag Ba’omer, which commemorates, among other events, the passing of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai. Rabbi Tsvi Elimelech Shapira (1783-1841) notes that in the Zohar, Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai is referred to as butzina kadisha, “the Holy Candle,” since he brought to light the secrets of the Torah. (Thankfully, we have begun to understand the adverse effects this custom has on the environment and have curtailed the blazes to some extent, but that is another subject.)
Another manifestation of the symbiotic relationship between light and learning is the Hebrew University’s logo, designed in 1954 by the Zelig Segal, which comprises a flaming torch.
The contrast between the Jewish ethos of celebrating life and the Hamas and Jihadi death cult widely supported by the self-named Palestinians, was brought into black-and-white relief over the recent holiday season. The opening ceremony of Memorial Day for our fallen included the lighting of a central beacon at the holy Western Wall.
Flickering candles were ubiquitous in cemeteries across the country in recognition of the ultimate sacrifice that so many have made to ensure the establishment and defense of our state.
Fires of hate
As we collectively paid homage to our fallen, word began to emerge of huge fires that were engulfing large swathes of our countryside. At least some of these blazes appear to have been instigated and/or abetted by Palestinian arsonists, designed to inflict as much pain and suffering on our people and land as possible.
Families were evacuated from villages, kibbutzim and moshavim. Members of the Protea Behar retirement facility were moved out by the devoted employees as cars were being abandoned on the Jerusalem-Tel Aviv highway by fleeing drivers.
And as the flames grew in intensity spurred on by strong winds, so Palestinians rejoiced, spurred on by malicious hatred. As reported in The Jerusalem Post by Ohad Merlin, social media posts encouraged followers to join in the orgy of hate and light fires with the stated goals of burning down forests, cars and homes.
Their definition of "Flames of Freedom" was not symbolic lanterns, but rather destructive conflagration designed to torture and murder Israeli settlers. Of course we all know that their definition of “settler” includes every single Jewish Israeli.
Thankfully, to the great credit of our firefighters and volunteers and to the providence of changing winds, despite the dire predictions, the fires were contained within a day, and by the morning of Independence Day, most people had reverted to different flames – the festival barbecue ritual – as if the devastating fire was a distant memory.
Such is the bounce-back resilience that has served us so well throughout our history. And in the course of time, by natural rejuvenation and proactive planting, the blackened fields and forests will return to vibrant life.
This malevolent phenomenon has accompanied us from the dawn of our existence as a people. The Midrash tells us that before embarking on his mission to bring monotheistic enlightenment to the world, our forefather Abraham survived a fiery furnace, into which he was cast by Nimrod, for refusing to worship idols. Jews have been murdered by fire through the millennia, from temple times, through crusade, inquisition, pogrom, Holocaust and more.
Now in the continuum, it is our great misfortune, but also the self-inflicted tragedy of so many of those who live in our region, that they would rather lay their children on the sacrificial altar of antisemitism than see them thrive and prosper in a live-and-let-live society. Even when dormant, their enmity smolders on despite all efforts to extinguish its embers.
The fiery fury we experienced on of October 7 was a tragically unwelcome reminder that to ensure our survival, we must be like the lookouts who constantly scan the forests for the first hint of smoke.
At the same time, we will continue to bear aloft the torches of freedom and sanctity of life.
After all, those seemingly puny, yet oh-so powerful “eternal lamps” that have glowed through night and day in our synagogues over millennia are proof that even the greatest fires that rage around us through the darkest of hours will never extinguish the shining countenance of our unique nation.
The writer is the author of Poetry in the Parasha. He produces legacy videos and is the director of the Zimrat Efrat Choir.