In light of the situation in California, I'm sharing a thought by a former yeshiva-mate of mine.
We pray for those in harm's way and for those who have lost so much.
By Rabbi Eli Friedman, Chabad of Calabasas
The thing about evacuations is, you can only take what's most important when you go. And so, suddenly you're asking yourself, what's most important?
And when all is said and done, even some of the most expensive items you own don't make onto that rarest of all lists. Expensive equipment, designer clothing, luxury jewelry - forget about it. Why, your most expensive possession of all - your house - is left behind.
Only that which is truly priceless gets to come with you. Things that mean the whole world to you and yet you probably couldn't get a nickel for them from anyone else, those come with you.
How to explain why you leave your valuable wardrobe but you take an album full of your child's kindergarten drawings? Why do you abandon a $2,000 computer but drag along your grandmother's Shabbat candlestick and the one-dollar bill your received from the Rebbe?
These things have no tangible worth; how can they be worthless and priceless at the same time? At yet, there you have it: when you evacuate, in those moments of quick reflection, your powers of appraisal are crystallized. In a flash, you have absolute clarity on what's important and what is not. Everything of worth is suddenly worthless, and everything worthless is suddenly priceless.
Our hearts are pained for the people who lost their homes and everything in them. Many of them didn't have a chance to make this choice, and truly priceless possessions went up in smoke. We pray for their strength, that G-d give them the endurance they need to start over.
We cannot emerge from any experience, especially a dramatic one, without a way to grow from it. A traumatic memory can provide a valuable takeaway if we think it through. And in this case, this is a good thing to remember, this reminder of what's worthless and what's priceless.
As the fires chased us around in giant circles, the lucky one among us were afforded a special clarity, and if we can, we ought to cling to it as long as possible. The great wind and fire event of 2025 will soon be a distant memory. But like a souvenir which brings back forgotten memories, this clarity and ability to recognize what's important in life can stay with us forever.
Our forefather Yaakov (Jacob) was forced to evacuate his precious Holy Land and descend into Egypt. And yet, with the belief that this too is a Divinely ordained turn of events, he figured out a way to make that move meaningful, and those years spent far from home turned out to be his best years of all.
All this has been orchestrated by G-d, and we can grow from it, even discover the best years of our lives in it. With renewed faith and vision and a fresh commitment to keeping our priorities in life straight, we can be sure that our best days are ahead of us.
CHAZAK! CHAZAK, VENITCHAZEK!
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Eli Friedman
Chabad of Calabasas