There’s a scene early in the film Gallipoli when two young Australians learn that the British empire has gone to war with the German empire. They are loyal British subjects who, like too many young men, hunt for glory. They make up their minds to join the army and join the fight. They confide their decision to a man who’s been mining in the Outback for so many years, he barely knows that the outside world exists. The miner can’t comprehend what they’re talking about. He finally says, “I knew a German once. Seemed like a nice bloke.”

I don’t lament the way the news ricochets around the world and knits us together. I lament the way hate leaps the oceans and breaks us apart.

After the shooting at Bondi Beach in Australia, after the people trying to celebrate the first night of Hanukkah were murdered, what could we do in our little corner of the world except light our own candles. But first we went to a public menorah lighting at the mall, sponsored by our local chapter of Chabad. It was odd to hear the ancient Hebrew blessings sung between the food court and the bottles of supplements in the window of the GNC.

But it was good to be part of a crowd. The rabbi reminded us that we light candles in the darkest days of the year not just to commemorate a victory from deep in the past but also for the simplest of reasons: To dispel the darkness. Traffic at the mall can’t stop us. The weather can’t stop us. Misguided men with guns can’t stop us.

When I launched this writing blog, I intended to keep world events out of it, but events happen and then the world demands our attention.

Blessing the Hanukkah dogs. We haven’t had a dog yet who didn’t know to report to the menorah as soon as it was fired up to receive my blessing and an Alpo Snap.

Back to the writing next week. Events permitting.