DEDICATED IN MEMORY OF

Eliyohu ben Moshe Mordechai a”h

By his family

Dancing With a Menorah Inside a Maximum-Security Prison

What was meant to be a short visit to a Toronto prison, turned into an emotional encounter as Jewish inmates lit menorahs, sang, and danced together, as the light of Chanukah shined behind prison walls.

Three new institutions were added to the roster — facilities that had never before hosted a Jewish program — allowing even more Jewish inmates to reconnect with their faith and heritage. 

One of the institutions visited was the Toronto South Detention Centre, Canada’s second-largest correctional facility and home to the country’s largest Jewish inmate population. JSC volunteer Rabbi Yirmi Cohen shared a deeply moving firsthand account of one of the eight Chanukah nights that JSC spent there, reflecting the powerful impact these programs continue to have. 

Jewish Services Canada-JSC has expanded in the last few years to become the nation’s most active Jewish prison outreach program. This year, 13 Chanukah programs were conducted across Ontario alone, made possible through the partnership of local Shluchim and Anash volunteers who brought light, joy and Jewish pride to the inmates. Three new institutions were added to the roster that had never hosted a chanukah program before, allowing even more Jews than ever to reconnect with their faith. 

One of the institutions visited was Toronto South Detention Centre, Canada’s second-largest prison and home to its largest Jewish inmate population. 

JSC’s volunteer, Rabbi Yirmi Cohen, gave an amazing, very moving, first-hand testimony of one of the 8 nights that JSC conducted programs there: 

There are moments in life that never fade — moments we carry with us, quietly shaping who we are. For me, the highlight of Chanukah is not found in crowded celebrations or glowing windows, but in places most people never see: behind prison walls. 

On the second night of Chanukah, on a dark and snowy Toronto evening, I made my way to the Toronto Detention Centre, a maximum-security facility, together with my dear friend Maurice Benzaquen. The city streets were silent, heavy with winter, and our hearts were still shaken from the horrific terror attack in Sydney that had occurred the night before. The contrast between the darkness outside and the light we hoped to bring could not have been more stark. 

We were warmly welcomed by the non-Jewish chaplain, who escorted us inside. We were told we would have one hour with the Jewish inmates. 

Seven men were brought in by the guards, dressed in orange prison attire. Withinmoments, the cold institutional space was transformed. We sang nigunim together, shared words of inspiration, and farbrenged as brothers. Each inmate lit a menorah, andwe held hands, dancing together around the flickering flames. 

It felt as though we had entered another world. 

Some closed their eyes. Some became emotional. The joy on their faces wasindescribable — pure, unguarded, and deeply moving. When we sang “I’m a Jew and I’m proud” at the top of our lungs, the guards came rushing in to make sure everything was alright. They had never witnessed anything like it. 

I shared with each inmate a copy of a letter from the Rebbe titled “Chanukah in Prison” from 5738. They took turns reading aloud. One line, in particular, struck a powerfulchord: “When a person finds himself in a situation after sunset, one must not despair.”The words seemed to echo in the room, resonating deeply with each soul present. 

What was meant to be one hour became two and a half. We cried together. We laughed together. They did not want us to leave. 

I played the piano while they enjoyed sufganiyot we had brought for them. Two of the men asked for an English Tehillim. Several shared, with pride, that they put on tefillinevery single day. Others gave us their names, asking that we pray for them at the Ohel. 

We came to give hope and strength — but in truth, they inspired us. 

The non-Jewish site chaplain later told us that we had uplifted their spirits in a way they would never forget. I left that night feeling as though I had experienced a Shabbaton, hidden behind steel doors and concrete walls. 

I strongly encourage others to visit a jail, to bring joy to a fellow Jew where it is needed most. You may discover, as we did, that the light you bring shines just as brightly within you. 

May the light and joy of Chanukah continue to illuminate all our lives. 

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