Can a simple top, a delightful toy for children, really speak to me in the aftermath of tragedy? In the aftermath of a Har Nof?
Although some might suggest otherwise, questioning how a mere toy could possibly carry the weight of such an event, I believe the dreidel can in fact afford insight into how to wrestle with such difficult and seemingly unfathomable events. In doing so, it offers a hint to why I am so enamored with my ever-growing dreidel collection; a collection I began almost thirteen years ago when I met my beloved wife.
I remember that moment so clearly. It was the second night of Chanukah. Yes, it was a miracle for me to have met my dear Clary. A Chanukah miracle. But even that remembrance begets a Chanukah question. In my heart, the dreidel came to symbolize that wonderful meeting and yet, wouldn’t a single grandiose dreidel have been enough to commemorate that life-transforming moment?
Why did I feel moved – some might suggest compelled – to continue to amass dreidel after dreidel, growing my collection to nearly a thousand dreidels from the United States, Israel, Spain, Hungary, India, Russia, Scotland, Brazil… indeed from all over the world. So many wondrous tops! So many that anyone who comes into the room where I keep my many volumes of books will find themselves transported by the sight of them.
No single dreidel for me. Rather, hundreds of them – made from a broad array of materials, in all sizes and colors.
It is a rare visitor to our home who doesn’t view my collection and then – smile fading from his or her face – ask, “Rabbi Safran, of all the things in the world to collect, why dreidels?”
Lest you think my collection is simply whimsy, an opportunity to recall the delightful evenings of childhood when the joy of Chanukah filled my household, let me share with you my response.
“What,” I ask, “does the dreidel teach us? What is its message?”
So much of Chanukah is presented in a way to delight young children. The dreidel and gelt. The sufganiyot. The games and songs commemorating the miracle of a small, dedicated army of fighters overcoming fierce oppression and rededicating our sanctuary.
And let us not forget the miracle of the oil!
But the story and challenge of Chanukah – and its ultimate miracle – is far beyond a child’s simple story. Likewise, all the elements of that story are more powerful and commanding than how they are often portrayed in the telling. Indeed, the “toy” dreidel represents not simplicity but the complexity and hidden nature of history and miracles.
Just as the dreidel spins and lands with only one side up, history and experience also show us only some of reality. The four sides of the dreidel teach that we are never truly seeing the whole story and that there is always another side that remains hidden to us.
When we begin to grasp the deep truth of the dreidel, we come to understand that with so much beyond our understanding, we have to have faith in hidden miracles and in God. We cannot comprehend the meaning of Har Nof just as we cannot understand the countless other events that mark our long history.
So we return to the dreidel. Four panels. A nun, a pei or shin, a gimmel, and a hei. Four letters, representing the message of Chanukah – “A great miracle happened here/there.” As it spins and falls, showing one letter, it necessarily hides another. What is plain to us is only what we see. We too often fail to find comfort or meaning in what is hidden to us.