When Lewis Wiener spoke at his daughters’ funeral, he begged friends not to shy away from his family—or from mentioning the girls.
Say their names, he urged. Jillian was 21 and Lindsay was 19 when they died in a house fire during the Potomac family of five’s August 2022 vacation. According to news reports, the fire started in an outdoor kitchen illegally constructed in the Noyac, New York, rental home as overloaded circuits shut down smoke and carbon monoxide detectors, which lacked battery backup. (The homeowners were sentenced in November.)
“Tell us stories … keep them with us,” Alisa, 59, the girls’ mother, recalls her husband saying at the funeral. Lewis, a prominent attorney devoted to public service and former president of Washington Hebrew Congregation, died of pancreatic cancer in April.
His message propelled another set of sisters at the funeral that day. Longtime Washington Hebrew members and Potomac residents Jessica Isen, 48, and Jaime Swanson, 45, wanted to perpetuate memories of Jillian and Lindsay in a way that would uplift their whole community. Their idea: candlesticks to spread light in the girls’ names while ushering in the weekly Sabbath.
“There’s a lot of pain in this. There’s a lot of trauma in this. But the idea that we are bringing light into the world just resonated with me,” Alisa says. The ritual of lighting candles for Shabbat, the Jewish period of rest from sunset on Friday to sunset on Saturday, is meant to bring a sense of holiness and peace into the home. Alisa lit Shabbat candles with her husband and children, and fondly remembers lighting them with her grandmother.
To create the candlesticks, Isen and Swanson enlisted Zachary Oxman, 56, a Bethesda-based sculptor whose family has long been involved with Washington Hebrew, which houses some of his artwork.
As Isen and Swanson described the tragedy, and the strength and love in the Wiener family’s story, Oxman says he “really felt strongly this underlying pull to have these [candlesticks] visually and emotionally embracing.” The day after meeting Oxman and seeing his initial design, Alisa marveled at the “memory” that randomly surfaced on her iPhone—a photo of Jillian and Lindsay, their arms around each other and upward as if to indicate a limitless, jubilant future. It looked to Alisa like the essence of Oxman’s candlesticks.
Members of Washington Hebrew raised more than $100,000 to produce the first 1,000 candlesticks, which became available for purchase last summer through its gift shop. Crafted of solid stainless steel, the sculpture—which holds two candles—sells for $180 (the number 18 symbolizes life in Judaism). Funds go toward restocking the candlesticks, which are gifted to incoming members and leaders of Washington Hebrew. In that sense, the project honors Lewis’ dedication to fostering synagogue membership and leadership. Etched into the rims of the candlesticks are the girls’ Hebrew names—Sarah Rachel for Jillian, and Ester Chanah for Lindsay.
Graduates of the Holton-Arms School in Bethesda, Jillian was a rising senior at the University of Michigan and Lindsay a rising sophomore at Tulane University in New Orleans when they died. Their “memories are a blessing, and they are still shared throughout the community,” Swanson says.
The candlestick project also reflects the Wieners’ plea to overcome discomfort for the sake of Jillian and Lindsay’s memory. Isen and Swanson initially questioned whether candlelight made an appropriate tribute, given the fire that killed the girls. “Fire is light,” Oxman says. “We’re not going to dismiss the power of this symbol that is so important in Judaism. … This is bigger than that.” Oxman considers the piece a metaphor that “helps us reconcile with the complexities of being human” and the will “to find good in things, while not denying the pain.”
That’s the way Alisa and her son, Zach, 26, move forward. An MBA student in Chicago, Zach competes in Ironman races in memory of his father and his sisters, who were his best friends. For Alisa, visits from her daughters’ friends have given her a meaningful connection.
“You make yourself vulnerable, you get so much back,” Alisa says of how their community has anchored them. “We carry Jillian and Lindsay and Lew with us. We still view ourselves as a family of five.”
This story appears in the January/February 2025 issue of Bethesda Magazine.
