Parshas Vayishlach – Wrestling with Angels and New Names

In this week’s parsha, Yaakov famously wrestles with Esav’s angel, gaining an injury and the name Israel.  In the Torah, every nation has its own angel watching over it and we’ve already learned that Esav is destined to be a mighty nation in his own right.  The struggle is dramatic and costs Yaakov, injuring his hip from which Jews derive the commandment not to eat the sciatic nerve of animals.

I sometimes wonder what nation I was born to and if I wrestle with the angel of that nation.

Unfortunately, the Torah doesn’t tell us which of the people that it speaks of wandered through Europe later.  It doesn’t say if Esav’s distant descendants later decided to move to England, Ireland, and Alsace, where my ancestors sprang from.  There are some commentaries that seek to explain which modern day people are at least spiritual descendants of which people in the Torah, but beyond Jews and Muslims, it can be tough to trace even one’s spiritual lineage back to the Torah.  There are some interesting ideas that the ten lost tribes of Israel spread out throughout the nations and that those who successfully convert are descended from these, but most Rabbis seem to think that converts are neshamas that were present at Mount Sinai, but for varying reasons, were born into non-Jewish bodies.  The generations before have little meaning beyond creating that vessel.

In many ways, I could picture Esav as the ancestor of the people of my birth.  My ancestors were pretty tough people, surviving conditions in Western Europe and then being bold enough to cross the Atlantic in the hunt for a better life.  There are certainly plenty of hunters and warriors in my family line and I can say that there was little concern with spiritual matters, at least in the generations I’m aware of.  The people I come from are very practical, stoic people who value hard work and independence.  Giving up some of that independence to be part of a religious community is seen more as weakness than admirable and admitting to feeling moved by anything that isn’t concretely visible in this world is far too sentimental for their taste.

They’re a good people in their way and people like those I was born to are the bedrock that helped build this nation.  From them, I learned how to go out into this world and work hard, hunting for what I need.  I doubt any of them would have guessed that I would one day turn those skills to hunting for something more, something intangible.

Like any conversion candidate, there are times I question what I’m doing.  There are moments when I ask myself why I am choosing to make my life harder and why I am working so hard to join a people…that very often doesn’t seem to want me.  It helps that I never quite felt at home among the people I was born to.  I always had too many questions about things that seemed unimportant to them.  I always had my head in the clouds and a yearning that no one else seemed to understand.  Still, I look at the world around me and I can’t help but admit that there are other places I’d probably be more easily accepted, other lives that I could slide into with relative ease compared to this one, where I am constantly called on to prove I should be here.

It’s at those times that I wonder if I’m myself wrestling with the angel of my forebear and I often wonder which of us will ultimately win.  Hashem knows we’re both stubborn.

When Yaakov won the battle with Esav’s angel, he was given a new name that his children would carry through time…Israel.  The Sages say this marked a great spiritual transition for him.  He had attained a higher spiritual level following the struggle, a level which would be necessary for the Jews to survive everything that would come later, from bondage in Egypt to years wandering the desert, to conquering their own land, to the exile.  The struggle with Esav’s angel revealed the inner strength of Yaakov.  He didn’t become a different person, but rather it revealed who he really was.  The Lubavitcher Rebbe said that in exile, Jews must be Yaakov and the nature of Yaakov is to have to hide parts of who we are for survival, but in the time of Moshiach, all Jews will be fully Israel, that is, Jews will be able to reveal fully who they are.

Converts gain a new name at the time of conversion, their Hebrew name.

It’s an interesting task to have to choose a name for yourself.  I remember that my children’s names, both English at their birth and Hebrew as we began this process, came very easily and naturally to me.  Some say that mothers are given divine inspiration when it comes to naming their children and last week’s parsha spoke of Leah and Rachel naming their children.  For me, it was as if once I said their names, those names had always been theirs.  They fit them.  I struggled, though, when it came to my own name.  Should I choose a name that fit who I see myself as or who I wish to become more like?  What should my name sound like?  Converts are urged to choose common Jewish names, names that won’t really stand out much in their community or set them apart.  Being a convert alone sets one apart enough.  Every name I tried, though, just didn’t seem to fit the way my children’s names fit them, but then again, I’d often felt like my English name that I’d had since birth never quite fit.

Over the years, I settled on one that I use and it fits in the way that a shirt that isn’t quite right, but you’ll still wear out fits.  I wonder, though, if I do succeed in wrestling the angel of my ancestors and gain Avraham and Sarah as my spiritual ancestors if that name will come to fit me better and feel more like it is simply who I always was, revealed?

The Dark Side of the Moon

I remember vividly watching Apollo 13 for the first time, particularly the nervous part where the endangered astronauts pass to the dark side of the moon.  Because the moon is between them and earth, there is radio silence.  They’re unable to communicate with the world outside and are left in an anxious state of separation, not really knowing if they’ll make it around to the other side.

Sometimes, winter here is like that.

It’s hard to reach out into the darkness and the world outside Alaska feels more remote.  Mail takes longer to get here as the barges that bring it up from the lower 48 often have to break through ice to reach us.  The store shelves often go barren in spots when shipments don’t arrive as expected.  Fresh fruit and vegetables are not as good of quality and sometimes harder to find.  Everyone seems moody, withdrawn a bit, as they sink into the darkest part of the year.  Holiday lights help some, but the darkness seems to devour even their cheerful light.

It is against this backdrop and my looming trip to the north slope that disappointing news came our way yesterday and it came on several fronts.

For reasons I’ll spare you, dear reader, we must move our Shabbat RV 2.0.  This will make attending shul on Shabbos much more expensive and difficult.  There are hotels near shul, but their rates are high enough we will probably only be able to attend shul once a month.  The RV, although cold, allowed us to attend almost every Shabbos.  This comes at a time when we all badly felt the need to feel some connection.

The other news is that there may be more complications with us finding a Beit Din to convert us.  When we met with our local sponsoring Rabbi before the high holidays, he was hopeful and had some plans, but the fall has been very busy and nothing has moved forward.  It is looking more and more like nothing will move forward until after we have moved and that we may have to begin again with a new sponsoring Rabbi in our new community.  This could potentially add 1-2 more years to our conversion process and essentially mean our time spent working here in Alaska doesn’t really count as far as conversion goes.

As our minds worked through all this after our meeting with our Rabbi, I looked at Mr. Safek across the table from me.  In the years we’ve been in this process, his beard has grayed and our children have grown from little ones to a teenager and tween.  I could tell he was crushed, thinking of all that lay ahead for us when he thought we were nearing a happy ending of our story.

“Well, we’ve put in this many years…what is one or two more in the grand scheme of things?”  I did my best to smile, to lighten the mood, “and that’s the worst case.  Perhaps another door will open in the meantime.”

Sometimes the only way out of something difficult is through it.  It’s true of difficult projects at work, a tough hike through the mountains, and it’s definitely true of winter.  The only way back from the dark side of the moon is to just keep going, keep waiting for the light and the signal to return.  It’s hard accepting that we have so little control or power over our own lives…but we don’t.

It’s all in Hashem’s hands and it always has been.

But we sure could use some sunshine or some connection now.

Thanksgiving Kosher

Thanksgiving couldn’t be more timely for our family this year.  We’ve gotten so bogged down with so many things and it’s easy to lose sight of being grateful for what we have.  Thanksgiving in Alaska comes during the deepening darkness leading up to the winter solstice, a time that can seem particularly dark even as our neighbors begin to hang their holiday lights.

Our family has a weekly Shabbos table tradition of each of us saying 3 things that we are grateful for from the week we just finished.  Bonus points are given if the person who just answered manages to ask the next person just as they begin to eat a bite of food and sometimes it’s easy to come up with three things and other times it’s a little more challenging.  It always helps us begin our Shabbos meal in the right spirit, though.  In some ways, I feel like Thanksgiving is a great holiday to break up the beginning of winter and remind us of how much we have to be thankful for.

I’ve been particularly in need of a reminder to look more at the positive.  Work has been challenging, the kids have needed a lot of help with school work, I’ve been stressed about getting the house whipped into shape for sale, and I’ve just been kind of down overall, only seeing the challenges and negatives.  As I contemplate sides that go with turkey, I’m also thinking about how I can focus more on all the places we have been so fortunate and deepen my trust that everything is going to work out for the best.

Thanksgiving is an interesting holiday for Orthodox Jews.  Some choose not to celebrate it, seeing it as being more of a Christian or non-Jewish tradition.  Some kosher keeping Jews also don’t eat turkey since there is no tradition of Jews eating the bird in the past and kosher laws can be a little tricky with birds.  Our family still eats turkey and we still celebrate Thanksgiving, albeit with kosher recipes.  When it comes to the meal, the turkey is the star of the show and for us that means a fleishig meal, meaning a meal that has meat in it and therefore no dairy.

In Alaska, that means ordering a kosher turkey (or two) ahead of time at a pretty steep cost and then rejoicing when you’re able to find them.  Our two birds each cost about $60 a piece and weigh in around 12-15 lbs, but they’re all ours and we’re grateful to have them at all.  The rest of the year, the only turkey available to us is frozen ground turkey.

Over the years, I’ve found ways to prepare sides without any dairy or using dairy substitutes.  Mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, even the ubiquitous green bean casserole can all be made pareve.  This year, I’m also trying out a pumpkin challah and a pareve pumpkin pie.  There are so many recipes now with so many people cutting dairy from their diet that it’s not hard to pull together a pretty nice Thanksgiving spread.

In many ways, cooking Shabbos each week makes cooking Thanksgiving a lot less daunting.  You become used to pulling together a formal dinner every week, so what’s one more?  Besides, you can COOK on Thanksgiving!!!!  To me, that makes Thanksgiving positively relaxing after all the Yom Tovim of the High Holiday season.  I love having the kids in the kitchen, helping out with their favorite dishes, music playing, and the familiar smells and tastes of my childhood.  With so many other holiday traditions that needed to get the boot when I chose to convert, it’s wonderful to have one holiday that still translates.

At first, I initially wrestled with whether or not we should keep Thanksgiving, since it isn’t really Jewish.  In my mind, though, the more I thought about it, the more I found it fit.  What’s more Jewish than a meal that brings family together to focus on all that Hashem has given them?  We wash our hands and say brachas rather than grace and we bench after the meal (benching is the blessing for after a meal with bread), but the desire to take time out of our busy lives to thank our creator for a successful harvest and all that we’ve been granted, I think, is a deeply human desire.

I hope everyone has a happy Thanksgiving, if you celebrate.  If not, it’s not that long until another warm Shabbos!  This week, with the temperatures outside dipping into the negative F, we’re planning to spend a warm Shabbos at home, resting up to return to the Shabbat RV and the cold next week!

The Deepest, Darkest Winter

All things must live in darkness before they are born.  Seeds sprout underground, hidden in the dirt and animals live either in their mother’s wombs or in eggs until they are ready for the world.  Today, the sun doesn’t rise until 9:12am and it will set at 4:16.  Candle lighting time is earlier than that, so we will have to pick the kids up from school halfway through their day so that we can prepare for another Shabbos cuddled up for warmth in the RV.

Spiritually also, we are in winter.  Our sponsoring Rabbi, due to a lot of different commitments, has been unable to meet with us since before the high holidays.  Last weekend, what I had hoped would be a Shabbos of warmth and inspiration was instead an experience of being unwelcome.  Our move looms large in our minds and there are days…I’m just not sure how it’s all going to work out.

There is nothing left but to trust that spring will come in its time and that we will make it through this winter to brighter days.

We take our vitamin D and try to get outside when there is light.  We bundle up and lean on each other.  And we daven.  Only Hashem can bring the light back and only He can prepare us for our new lives.

Parshas Chayei Sarah – Big Shoes To Fill

In this week’s parsha, Sarah, the spiritual mother of all Jews and particularly of converts, dies and is the first person to be buried in the Tomb of the Patriarchs in Hebron, the only piece of the land promised to Abraham that he would actually own in his lifetime, but a promise for more.  Rivka is brought to Yitzhak to be his wife and sees him in the field and in what is one of the most romantic passages of Torah, they experience a Hollywood-like moment of “love at first sight.”

There is a Midrash that tells of Yitzhak bringing Rivka into his mother Sarah’s tent, to show her the example of Jewish womanhood that she needs to follow.  We aren’t told much about Rivkah’s upbringing directly in the written Torah, but midrash tells us that her father was a wicked man, even attempting to poison Eliezar.  She wasn’t raised to be what she became, but somehow, she grows to be a young woman thoughtful and kind, bringing not only water for Eliezar, but also his animals.  It seems like Rivka might often have felt out of place in her own family, as if she never quite belonged and longing to be with people she felt more at ease among.  Rivka leaves her own people to travel to meet Yitzhak, leaving her old life behind.

Still, I can’t help but wonder what it must have been like to stand in Sarah’s tent after her recent passing, realizing that you now have to continue what this great woman began.  Sarah was uniquely gifted in prophecy, even more so than Avraham, and was renowned for her beauty.  Even Hashem himself counselled Avraham to listen to his wife.  She bore great influence with him and undoubtedly began to shape the women who looked up to her and follow her example.  Now, though, all those who had come to monotheism through Avraham’s hospitality found Sarah’s tent empty.  It was Rivka’s task to continue to light Shabbos candles and pass on what Sarah had begun to the next generation.

In a way, we’re all Rivka, standing in Sarah’s tent and wondering if we’ll ever measure up to her example.

As a conversion candidate, I definitely have that feeling of joining a people, but without a flesh and blood mother to guide me, slowly raising me and teaching me.  Like Rivka, I’ve had to learn on the job, so to speak, studying the stories of great Jewish women and looking around me for role models.  I have had to find my place in a family that has a long and rich history of tradition as someone brought from outside by a desire to become a part of that tradition.  I stand in Sarah’s tent, hoping that I can do her memory proud, that I can be a suitable descendant of hers in my own home, raising my own children to carry on those traditions and caring for my own family.

I wonder if Rivka ever got nervous hearing of the greatness of her mother in law.  Did she worry that she wouldn’t be worthy of bringing the next generation or did she already have a quiet confidence within her?  Did she simply accept this mission as what she was born to do, without fear she’d fail?

Parshas Lech Lecha – Go!

This week’s parsha begins the story of Avraham, the father of monotheism and the spiritual father of all Jewish converts.  His story begins with a command that’s familiar:

“Go from your land, from your birthplace and from your father’s house, to the land which I will show you.”

 

In some way or other, we all have to eventually leave what is comfortable and familiar and step into an unknown future.  I’ve heard it said that Avraham was the first Jewish convert and this makes perfect sense.  He didn’t grow up with monotheism around him.  He grew up in a family of idolaters in a community where idolatry was normal.

If he’d grown up today, it’s likely his father might have sold iphones and kept up with the Kardashians or simply been someone who idolized money or power.  After all, not all idols are made of stone or wood.

It would have been easy for Avraham to simply follow along.  He could have stayed where he grew up and simply blended in with everyone else.  Instead, he was called upon to leave everything behind and begin a new life, one that was foreign to him both physically and spiritually.  He had to leave what he’d known.

When you study Torah, you quickly learn that the Torah wastes no words.  If something is repeated, it’s for a deeper reason.  Here, we see the Torah basically say that Avraham is commanded by Hashem to go in three different ways.  It would have been clear enough to list any one of them.  Instead, he’s told to leave his “land,” his “birthplace,” and his “father’s” house.  Odds are, during that time period, all three of these could be the same physical location, so it’s obvious that this must mean three different things in some other way.

Chabad.org has a article explaining these 3 different journeys in depth:

This is the deeper significance of the words “your land, your birthplace and your father’s house” in G‑d’s call to Abraham. Eretz, the Hebrew word for land and earth, is etymologically related to the word ratzon–will and desire; so your land also translates as your natural desires. Your birthplace–moladtecha–is a reference to the influence of home and society. And beit avicha, your father’s house, refers to man as a mature and rational being, forging his mind-set, character and behavior with the transcendent objectivity of the intellect. (In the terminology of Kabbalah and Chassidism, the intellect is referred to as the father within man, since it is the progenitor of, and authority over, his feelings and behavior patterns.)

Avraham was being called upon to do a lot more than just make a physical move, more than just relocating his wife and household to a new place.  He was being called upon to go and leave behind.  His journey is even beyond just leaving behind his father’s ways or the culture he was born into.  His ultimate journey was to travel beyond the finite, human ability to understand and perceive the world and to glimpse beyond it to Hashem’s will.  Essentially, he was being asked to do more than just reject idolatry and believe in one G-d alone…he’d already done that before the command to Go came to him.

He’s being told that it’s time for him to transcend his own nature, his habits, and even his rational self.  This makes sense when you recall that the culmination of this journey is the akeida, where he sets aside his rationality in favor of pure faith and binds his only son for sacrifice at Hashem’s command.  Everything we learn about Avraham as we follow his journey up to that point contradicts the binding of Isaac.  We see him yearn for a child.  We see him agonize over sending the wicked Ishmael away.  We see his kindness and generosity towards strangers and we see him plead for the lives of Sodom and Gomorrah.  We learn that Avraham is a kind, generous, righteous man.  And yet, in the face of all this evidence that the akeida is exactly the sort of thing a man like Avraham would never do, would outright refuse to do and argue with Hashem over…he obeys without doubt, certain that Hashem has a plan and will cause everything to turn out for the good.

It’s precisely because an act like sacrificing his own son is so opposite what we learn about Avraham’s character that it is so powerful, but on deeper reading, it seems like the changes that Avraham needed to make to reach that point spiritually began with the command to GO.

I think the reason why Avraham’s journey has resonated through three different faiths for thousands of years is because we each have a similar journey.  Some of us are called to travel further than others, but we all must go and leave behind some aspect of ourselves to continue to grow and move forward.  We can all relate to that idea that we often do have to leave behind what is familiar and comfortable to become the people we are meant to be.  For Orthodox Jewish converts the journey is so similar to our spiritual father’s, even if we are never to reach such spiritual heights.  We’re still called upon to move beyond the spiritual place we were born to in a radical way.  It’s easy to see the families, faiths, and cultures we leave behind, but often harder to see the ways in which we also have to transcend parts of ourselves as well, our very nature, our habits, and even at times, our rational selves.

In ways large and small, we all make leaps of faith into an unknown future.  Could Avraham have known with absolute surety that Hashem would keep his promises?  Did he sometimes worry he’d lost his mind or way when the commands he received didn’t seem to make rational sense?  Were there moments during the long walk up Mount Moriah with Isaac where his heart was troubled and he simply prayed that Hashem would find a way to save his son?  Did he look back with regret when he left his homeland and the family he grew up with or did he walk on, confident and certain?

I can bet that there are stories in Midrash that answer many of these questions that I have yet to learn, but for now, I find the Avraham in my mind is often a reflection of where I am in my faith.  When I am wavering, afraid that my trust is misplaced and I’m making a huge mistake for my family, Avraham is a man who worries and prays a lot, silent prayers as he follows Hashem’s commands.  He lifts the knife reluctantly, fervently praying for Hashem to stop his hand.  When I’m full of faith and feeling strong myself, the Avraham I see is certain and confident and he never loses any sleep with doubts.

What is important, I think, is that both my Avrahams keep going forward, in the direction Hashem has commanded them.  Their bravery and faith may be rattled, but their commitment and obedience is not.

For now, I suppose that is enough to keep me going on my own journey, following Avraham’s footsteps through the snow.

 

 

Wandering Jew-ish? Traveling Kosher!

I’ve got some trips coming up down to the lower 48 and while I’ve written before about the logistics of backcountry camping kosher, I thought it might be good to write about traveling while observant, for those who might be new to it.

Kosher travel really begins when we begin planning our trip, specifically the times and dates of flights or travel times for a roadtrip.  Shabbos and holidays always need to be planned around and it’s important to make sure there is some padding of time just to be sure.  I’ve read so many “horror” stories of Orthodox Jews needing to spend the Sabbath in airports or getting stuck in one way or another.  Be sure to check with your own friendly Orthodox Rabbi, but for most, this means making sure that you will not need to be traveling at all near candle lighting time and that any flight after the Sabbath departs well after the end of the Sabbath, havdalah.  Whenever possible, I like to arrive a day or two before Shabbos so I have time to settle in, get my bearings, and find kosher food.  It’s often good to take into account potential flight delays or, if it’s a roadtrip, any driving delays due to traffic, weather, or car issues.

Which brings us to the other two big challenges, kosher food and lodging within walking distance of an Orthodox Synagogue.

There seems to be a great fear among some Jews born Orthodox that there is nothing to eat in a city if that city has no kosher pizza place.  I’m happy to say that most major cities have a lot to offer.  Doing a quick search on Chabad.org’s website for local Chabad organizations can often get you in touch with what is kosher locally.  They will sometimes have a separate webpage on the local Chabad house’s website with local kosher resources or sometimes you can email or call them.  In smaller cities, they may also be the only Orthodox Synagogue for Shabbos as well and often can help you find accommodations nearby.  In larger cities, you can often search for a local Va’ad or Beit Din (Rabbinical Court) and they may have links to kosher websites and some large cities even have their own kosher certification programs.  In addition, doing a web search for “Orthodox Jewish Synagogues in (city name)” can often help you find their Synagogue’s website, which will often have visitor information.

It’s important to reach out to whatever community that you will be visiting for Shabbos early.  They may be able to recommend hotels in or near the eruv or Synagogue and sometimes they can set up hosting for you for either meals or a place to stay as well.  Be prepared to give them some kind of references, usually your local Orthodox Rabbi.  After all, you’d want to check up on a complete stranger before inviting them into your home, wouldn’t you?  Also, keep in mind that Orthodox Jews are a tight-knit community.  Be on your best behavior as a guest and if you are not yet halakhically Jewish, be careful not to do anything that you wouldn’t be allowed to do in your home Synagogue, like accepting an aliyah.  If you are set up with hosts for meals or a place to stay, be sure to bring a hostess gift and thank you card so that you’ll be welcomed back!

If you’re on your own for accommodations, don’t fret.  Recently, our family has had really good luck finding airbnb’s in areas where there are no hotels in or near an eruv.  This can be a particularly good option for families.  Just last year we ended up staying in a very charming Airbnb in Seattle’s Seward Park neighborhood.  The couple that hosted us were non-observant Jews who already knew all the ins and outs of Sabbath observance and were familiar with many of the people who hosted us for meals.  They were SO nice and we felt at home and were just a short walk from the Synagogue.  This winter, we’re renting a whole house near a Synagogue we’re visiting.  Of course, you generally cannot expect a kosher kitchen in these, so plan accordingly.

Which brings us to kosher food!

Some larger cities have kosher restaurants and you can often find what their kosher certifications are online as well as if they are cholov yisroel, if that’s a concern for you.  Local Synagogue and Beit Din websites may also list the best grocery stores to go to locally for kosher food or if there are completely kosher grocery stores.  In a pinch, whole foods market, costco, and trader joe’s are generally great for finding a lot of kosher items and even in the smallest supermarkets, you can generally find snacks that are OU certified, although meat and cheese may be a challenge.  I’ve found having a sense of adventure and some flexibility often helps.

If you’re traveling with a family or are completely on your own for Shabbos meals, it can be really helpful to pack some of your own food and utensils.  My mother in law always travels with a hot plate that she can use to cook with, a small frying pan, a small pot, and a few utensils, including a paring knife in her checked luggage.  I know other people who like to travel with an instant pot, which allows them to saute, steam, slow cook, or pressure cook foods.  Bringing your own kosher appliance with you means not having to rely on as much kosher food being available because you can easily cook fresh vegetables.  It’s always a good idea to have a box of matzah or bring your own challah if you don’t have anyone to host you for meals.

Besides just planning travel and seeing if hosting is available, the Sabbath also has other specific special concerns for travelers.  It’s good to bring tea lights for candle lighting and to find kosher grape juice or wine for kiddush and havdalah.  In addition, it’s important to know if there is an eruv (if you hold by them) and if it is up before carrying as well as to know if your hotel has electronic locks you’ll need to work around.  Some people tape the locks so that they don’t engage and just trust that their belongings will be safe while others work it out with the hotel staff to let them in their room so that they don’t need to use the keycard.  Be sure to check for local candle lighting times, which may be very different from your own.  Hebcal and Chabad are good resources as is the local Orthodox Synagogue.

If you’re new to traveling Orthodox, this might all sound a bit overwhelming, but I’ve found that traveling this way is often a lot more of a “real” experience of a place than when I traveled before.  Sabbath observance and keeping kosher often nudge me to interact more with the local community than I might otherwise.  Sharing the Sabbath with local families helps me really get more of a feel for a place than I would if I just stuck with the tourist sights.  Over time, I begin to feel more like I’m part of the bigger Jewish family and sometimes, I even have names I can now bring up in “Jewish geography” conversations.  I’ve met some of the most wonderful people and I’ve been grateful for what I’ve learned from them and from their communities.

It’s more than worth a few extra logistics.

Now, traveling to the North Slope for work?  That’s turning out to be a whole other adventure, but I plan on posting about that separately since most people don’t need to stress about candle lighting times when the sun never comes up!