A Hanukkah Gift of Christmas

Three nights ago his name came to me, opening as a portal from dream to wakening.  

"Walk through!" 

It was Max. 

The dream had involved an old gray-haired sage, who had arrived at a place full of people. 

Perhaps it was my daughter’s family and friends at her 12-12-12 bonfire that night.  That would fit, I suppose.  They’re young, full of ideas and dreams, typical of them to realize that a triple numeric date would not happen again until 1-1-2101, when only the youngest around that fire might remain to see.

Perhaps it was the image in my mind of that so-bright fire against the so-dark, near-solstice winter sky.  The star would say so, the star I saw burning through the tiniest crack in the west-facing blinds as I padded to the woodpile to add new logs to last night’s banked coals. 

Perhaps it was that this year my granddaughters, saved by their wise parents from religious dogma, have discovered the three wise men following just such a star, making figures of them for Christmas, complete with big heads – for their oversized brains. 

Perhaps it is the very recent death of my friend Fred, who knew with certainty that he would remain in me, not merely when I sought him in memory, but when his memory sought me.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.  Quizas, quizas, quizas.

 As I walked through the portal into waking, words of clarity came. 

"The brightest among us is the one who sees the light in others."  

Oh, that was Max. 

Max Brill.  A retired professor from Oakland University, Max was friend-at-first-sight.  20 years my senior, learned and wise, he somehow found me worth listening to, as we strolled through a flea market with our wives, who were acquainted through their work.  Later I would discover, first in the company of another couple and then around Max and Mary’s huge dining room table surrounded by a dozen and a half others, that Max Brill found everyone worth listening to.  His “pre-poker palavers” started out as collegial discussions prior to poker, with other faculty members.  Over the years, the poker games had died out but the palavers had grown to fill the room.

Today on the last day of Hanukkah, I realize that Max Brill was perfectly named.  MAXimum BRILLiance.  That was the gift of my waking that morning.

The brightest among us is the one who sees light in others.

Hanukkah is the celebration of the lamp that remains, despite all logic, burning.  Max Brill’s light burns in me, sometimes like a barely-lit pilot light.  But that morning after 12-12-12, midway through the Jewish celebration of light, it was Max’s flame that blazed up in me, seeking me as Fred had said, giving me the message of my Christian Christmas.

To be a light to the world is to see the light in others, and to help them see it themselves.  We are called, all of us, to call each other, all of us, to let our lights shine.  We can, together and despite all logic, banish the darkness.  We and our world can be…

…Brilliant.  BRILLiant to the MAX.

Mazel tov!  l'Chaim!