Mystery of the week.
A monolith - a steel triangular column - discovered in the middle of the
Utah desert. Lockhart basin has no cellphone service nor restrooms. Yet visitors began flocking to this remote location to get a glimpse of this inexplicable phenomenon.
A colleague of mine cleverly photoshopped the monolith, imagining it to be a giant menorah, and attribute its placement to the local Chabad Rabbi.
Less than 10 days later, just as suddenly as it had appeared the monolith was gone. Four unknown individuals decided that its sleek design and finished look were too out of place and disruptive for the naturally rugged terrain.
It got me thinking about m&m's. Menorahs and Monoliths. And how just perhaps if our shiny protrusion had taken a Menorah lesson, it may have stood a fighting chance.
The monolith with its sharp angles and reflective surface seemed to stand in defiance. I refuse to be as dusty as my surroundings, I will have clear definition as opposed to random curves, bumps, and inlets of the desert landscape. The metallic structure stand in sharp contrast, sending a message loud and clear. I am not the desert. And will not be influenced by it.
Yet, the monolith does not seek to change its environment. And I suspect that late at night when the tourists have gone home and the gazes of admiration have subsided, the monolithic metal actually becomes cold to the touch. The desert has made its impact on the prideful pillar.
The Menorah, however, has but one mission. To illuminate the darkness. To cast its warm glow upon anyone who enters into its radius. Not to stand in contrast, but to influence, inspire, and transform its surroundings. To melt the wax, turn night into light, and darkness into hope.
This Chanukah, be a menorah, and illuminate the desert around you, with warmth, kindness, and joy.
That's a menoralith that would be met with unanimous approval.
Please join us to celebrate Chanukah and illuminate the darkness at the Chanukah Drive-Thru Experience, and for the virtual Maccabeats concert!