Rav Ephraim Galinksy

As the music shifts from haunting niggunim to jubilant song, the Boyaner Rebbe lifts the torch in hand, and as the flame catches the bundle of oil-soaked cotton, all of Meron seems to erupt in sacred joy. Yet the Boyaner dynasty, and its historic chazakah over the hadlakah, almost didn’t survive — until a remarkable chain of events restored the crown and returned the tradition to the famed rooftop bonfire It was Zos Chanukah, 1984.

Iget it. A new baby is exciting. What I don’t get is the difference between learning about my cousin Toby’s newest family member at 5 a.m versus at 7 a.m. While I’m asleep, especially during the last two precious hours before morning, I’m not all that news hungry. I can’t even know what I don’t know; I’m sleeping, for goodness’ sake. I know it’s my fault. Why do I keep my phone next to my bed, right?

There were lightbulbs strung across courtyards, and huge banners emblazoned with the words, “T’nu kavod laTorah” hanging from the surrounding buildings. But this was no ordinary hachnassas sefer Torah.