When I got the following email from four of my local Orthodox shuls on the same day, it definitely got my attention: “Halachic Guide to Wildfire Evacuation on Shabbat.” B”H, in our Pico-Robertson neighborhood, we did not need to put this information into practice.
What can I tell you that you
haven’t already seen or read about the fires in Los Angeles? Everyone has
seen photos of buildings reduced to rubble and learned about the billions of
dollars in losses, not to mention the loss of human life. So it occurred to me
that I might just share some random scenes of what has been going on away from
the front lines, the cameras, and the microphones.
For the first few days, black
clouds filled the sky in many directions, sometimes blotting out the sun. In
the early morning hours, the sun appeared as red as fire. Things felt quite
surreal, unsettling. One woman worried aloud that “the apocalypse is now.” Everyone
was wearing masks outside. We were told that N95 masks would be most effective
in protecting us from harmful particulate matter; it felt like Covid-19 all
over again.
Thousands of people work at Cedars-Sinai
Medical Center, where I am employed, and many commute from areas that were hard
hit by the fires. As the days passed, the stories I heard became more personal.
S’s niece lost her home. She moved in temporarily with family and was still
traumatized by what had happened and how quickly her neighborhood had become
engulfed in flames. L’s cousin was evacuated from his beach area home and moved
in with her family. The only things he brought with him were his medications and
a few articles of clothing.
A physical therapist near the
Hollywood Hills fire described her nighttime evacuation from her rented
apartment. Her renter’s insurance had lapsed, and she was desperately trying to
get a new policy. D, a woman with a number of chronic illnesses, was out of
town at the time of the fires. Only later did she learn that her home had
burned to the ground. “You won’t believe this, but it doesn’t really matter,”
she said. “All I want is my health back.”
A Christian co-worker and her
husband took in a couple they knew from church who’d been evacuated. A minister
saw her church burn down.
A WhatsApp group let us know
about a GoFundMe campaign on behalf of someone who used to work in our
department. The house occupied by her father and grandmother was left in ruins.
In tandem with these huge
losses, friends and coworkers also described some of the discomforts they were
experiencing. J had no power and heating for days. E threw extra blankets on
her kids to keep them warm. (Yes, it gets cold in LA at night.) M had to throw
out a ton of food since everything in her fridge and freezer had spoiled. D was
staying in a hotel in Pasadena when all the power went out for hours. There was
no back-up generator. She said, “It reminded me of the plague of darkness in
Egypt. You could feel it…”
Our cars became covered with
fine, white ash. In some areas, people learned that their water was unsafe and
needed to be boiled. Just to be cautious, some stocked up on bottled water or
Gatorade.
* * *
People started comparing notes
about what they had in their “go bags,” in case they had to get out quickly. At
one point, even though it seemed a remote possibility that our neighborhood
would be affected, rabbis sent out notices urging vigilance and preparation. One
read: “I would suggest that you have all essential items ready in a suitcase so
that you can quickly evacuate if, G-d forbid, that is needed. May Hashem
protect us all.”
The leader of our Monday
morning women’s Tehillim group sent out a WhatsApp message to all participants:
“Hope you are all safe and out of harm’s way. I know some of you are out of
town and others may not want to venture outdoors.... Please let me know ASAP if
you are willing to come to my house for Tehillim group tomorrow. Thanks.” Enough
women showed up so that we were able to get through all the chapters. One woman
who couldn’t make it sent us a text message, which read in part: “My relatives
lost their home in the Palisades fire, a place with over 30 years of art,
memories, and cherished items.... This has been a profound reminder of life’s
fragility and the impermanence of what we hold dear.”
It’s impossible to know how
many people have suffered emotionally. When I walked into the room of an
elderly Russian patient with dementia, her daughter took me aside and confided,
“I had to quickly change the TV channel when the news came on. My mother became
very agitated when she saw the images of the flames and wondered if the Jews
were safe. She is a Holocaust survivor.”
On the third day of the fires,
many hospital employees stayed away from work, either evacuated, anticipating
evacuation, or tending to their families. In mid-afternoon, the few of us in
our department simultaneously received emergency alerts on our cell phones. We
looked at each other, trying to figure out what, if anything, we needed to do. Fortunately,
within a few minutes, we got a text message letting us know that the alert had
been sent to everyone in LA County in error, rather than just to the affected
areas. Due to a glitch in the system, a number of such false alarms went out
several more times. A friend got one at 4:37 a.m.
Some people, especially those
with babies or young children – or those with respiratory problems – quite logically, decided to get out of town. A coworker’s daughter
headed south to Newport Beach. Some went further south to San Diego. One young
family went to Las Vegas, and at least one young couple I know of headed to New
York with their newborn.
* * *
But let me tell you about some
positive things that have occurred. Just as all of Israel and the Jewish nation
came together after October 7th, the whole city felt much more
unified and polite in the first days and weeks of the fires. The new norm is to
ask everyone – at work, at the market, in the pharmacy line – how they and their families have been doing. We’ve all received
calls from out-of-town relatives and friends, seeking reassurance that we’re
okay and offering support.
So many people stayed home from
work that traffic was much lighter than usual. And people were more polite on
the road. The employee parking lots, normally jammed, had plenty of empty
spaces.
Two local shuls had invited
rabbis from out of town to serve as scholars-in-residence for the first weekend
of the fires. Both rabbis decided to come and proceed with their programs,
since they knew people were eager to hear them.
One Torah scroll dedication and
procession did have to be postponed, but that was undoubtedly for the best, in
terms of logistics and especially in light of the poor air quality.
Kosher restaurants, shuls, and
other organizations have been sending out food to firefighters and other
emergency responders. OBKLA (Our Big Kitchen LA), a kosher community resource
that prepares nutritious meals for many Angelenos in need, added extra shifts
to make more food for first responders and displaced families. So many
volunteers signed up for this chesed project that they ended
up with a waiting list of 1,500 people.
They recently reported that, during the first two weeks after the
fires broke out, “over 1,800 volunteers have attended 29 volunteer sessions at
OBKLA.... We’ve been able to produce and distribute 12,000 meals and 22,500
baked goods. These were sent to evacuation relief sites, YMCAs, Chabad Houses,
and community centers across Los Angeles, as well as to first responders and
Army National Guard.”
Children as well as adults have been involved in these communal
efforts. In addition to helping prepare and pack food, many of them have sent
drawings and notes of thanks to the firefighters. Students from Gindi
Maimonides Academy even had the opportunity to deliver pizza, bagels, and
drinks directly to the front lines.
And the stories continue. As I write this,
a nearby synagogue is presenting a Zoom talk by a local psychologist
on “Navigating the Psychological Effects of the Los Angeles Wildfires.”
I just found an email from my
local branch of the Los Angeles Public Library: “...We understand that your
focus is on more urgent matters than library books. If you were affected by these fires, please rest assured that you will
not be held responsible for any library items lost due to the fires or
evacuations.”
*
* *
Tonight, as I sit at my
computer, I can hear the sounds of rain, the first in a very long time. May it
be a bracha for us all.
It is heartening to see how
many people have risen to the occasion, thinking more about others than
themselves. In the process, many in our community have certainly created
a kiddush Hashem. I hope and pray that, even when the need abates,
the lessons we have learned –
and the role models from whom we learn – will inspire us to be our best selves in the way we interact with
one another and to savor the precious moments of every “ordinary” day.
Paula Van Gelder is one of the Jewish chaplains at Cedars-Sinai Medical
Center in Los Angeles.
