 | December sets Jewish sights toward Hanukkah – a holiday that many of us treat as a minor commemoration suited mainly to children. Even in my early years of rabbinical school, I believed that Hanukkah was no big deal. How wrong I was – and I want to share my personal story (and Hanukkah's historic story) precisely now, when public visibility and pride in Jewish life both feel especially vital and loaded. |
By Rabbi David Evan Markus
Happy December, Shir Ami! I hope you and your loved ones enjoyed a healthy and meaningful Thanksgiving.
With Turkey Day done, Hanukkah must be around the corner, right?
Sort of. This year's Festival of Lights falls "late" on the secular calendar. Most of December will be done before our Festival of Lights begins. First candle comes with Christmas; Last Candle is New Year's Day 2025.
How to honor Christmukkah (or is it Hanumas?) – Red and green latkes? Santa and sour cream? Chestnuts roasting over Hanukkah candles / Onions nipping at our nose? (Most 20th century Christmas carols, including that one, were written by Jews.) For New Year's, what about a midnight ball drop re-shaped as a dreidel?
Outpaced and out-glitzed by secular life, Hanukkah might be even more so this year. And if we're honest, this year some of us might respond to the turbulence in Jewish life – war, antisemitism and more – by feeling ho hum if not bah humbug about Hanukkah.
Besides, what's so hot about Hanukkah? The Daily Show's Jon Stewart couldn't even get Stephen Colbert to try it. (Their musical duet – "Can I Interest You in Hanukkah?" – simply must be experienced.)
Yet kindling Hanukkah candles is Judaism's most popular ritual – even for the disaffiliated, non-practicing and self-described non-religious. So there's got to be more to it than a few candles latkes. Little did I know even into my 30s.
Hanukkah last began on Christmas Day 19 years ago in 2005, when I served with Judiciary leadership. My secretary prided herself on holiday decorations. She knew that decor had to represent New York's diversity, so up went a Christmas tree along with elves, snowflakes, reindeer, colorful gift boxes, Diwali lotus flowers... and a hanukkiyah. (Its nine-candle design technically isn't a menorah, which has seven branches and dates back to Torah.)
Happy December, Shir Ami! I hope you and your loved ones enjoyed a healthy and meaningful Thanksgiving.
With Turkey Day done, Hanukkah must be around the corner, right?
Sort of. This year's Festival of Lights falls "late" on the secular calendar. Most of December will be done before our Festival of Lights begins. First candle comes with Christmas; Last Candle is New Year's Day 2025.
How to honor Christmukkah (or is it Hanumas?) – Red and green latkes? Santa and sour cream? Chestnuts roasting over Hanukkah candles / Onions nipping at our nose? (Most 20th century Christmas carols, including that one, were written by Jews.) For New Year's, what about a midnight ball drop re-shaped as a dreidel?
Outpaced and out-glitzed by secular life, Hanukkah might be even more so this year. And if we're honest, this year some of us might respond to the turbulence in Jewish life – war, antisemitism and more – by feeling ho hum if not bah humbug about Hanukkah.
Besides, what's so hot about Hanukkah? The Daily Show's Jon Stewart couldn't even get Stephen Colbert to try it. (Their musical duet – "Can I Interest You in Hanukkah?" – simply must be experienced.)
Yet kindling Hanukkah candles is Judaism's most popular ritual – even for the disaffiliated, non-practicing and self-described non-religious. So there's got to be more to it than a few candles latkes. Little did I know even into my 30s.
Hanukkah last began on Christmas Day 19 years ago in 2005, when I served with Judiciary leadership. My secretary prided herself on holiday decorations. She knew that decor had to represent New York's diversity, so up went a Christmas tree along with elves, snowflakes, reindeer, colorful gift boxes, Diwali lotus flowers... and a hanukkiyah. (Its nine-candle design technically isn't a menorah, which has seven branches and dates back to Torah.)
Hours before our 2005 office holiday party, the hanukkiyah fell and broke. In its place, someone found a three-inch mini thing in a box at the bottom of a closet.
It was... uh, small. Dwarfed by all the other decor, it seemed like Hanukkah's answer to Charlie Brown's wee Christmas tree too tiny for even a single ornament.
My secretary, earnest as she was enthusiastic, tripped over herself apologizing (a lot) so I wouldn't be offended. Even then, years before I began rabbinical school, apparently I was a perceived symbolic Authority On All Things Jewish.
"Of course I'm not offended," I assured her. I told her that I appreciated her efforts and it was no big deal because, let's face it, by comparison Hanukkah is no big deal.
My earnest secretary gasped, "You can't say that! That's antisemitic!" I assured her it wasn't, just a statement of reality. After all, I reminded her, there's no Hanukkah in Torah. (Events inspiring Hanukkah wouldn't happen for over 1,300 years after Torah.)
Someone overheard her say "antisemitic." Next thing I knew, a perceived symbolic Authority on All Things Jewish, son of an Asian-immigrant Israeli and destined for rabbinical school, was explaining Hanukkah to an over-serious Human Resources officer.
Good grief.
Years later, I learned that Hanukkah is a very big deal precisely because it post-dates Torah – a deep truth that makes Hanukkah an especially big deal in years like this one.
After Maccabee zealots beat back Hellenist suppression and restored the Temple during the mid-100s BCE, Jews made an annual celebration of it – but without spiritual authority. After all, "authority" came from Torah, canonized long before. How could there be a Jewish holiday without a basis in Torah?
After Rome destroyed the Temple in 70 CE, Roman historian Flauvius Josephus would record that Jews kept lighting candles for what he termed the "Festival of Lights." Mishnah went on to mention Hanukkah eight times (hint, hint) and even canonized a Hanukkah liturgy – but Talmud's rabbis had a problem. They didn't want a holiday to emerge from war or zealotry, much less without Torah's say so.
Yet the generations were voting with their candles. There was something about light amidst darkness, and celebration despite suppression, that illuminated the Jewish soul. The rabbis, astute politicians that they were, went along – but with a twist. They de-emphasized zealotry (including a Jewish civil war of sorts), and focused on light and joy.
In essence, rabbinic sleight of hand swapped spears for candles. Talmud would teach about Hanukkah's increasing rather than decreasing light (which is why we light the way we do.) The light of Hanukkah would link to the light of creation, the light of Shabbat and the light of the soul. The eight days of Hanukkah would map to the seven Biblical days of Creation plus an eighth day for "beyond this world" – a mystic's day for miracles.
It was... uh, small. Dwarfed by all the other decor, it seemed like Hanukkah's answer to Charlie Brown's wee Christmas tree too tiny for even a single ornament.
My secretary, earnest as she was enthusiastic, tripped over herself apologizing (a lot) so I wouldn't be offended. Even then, years before I began rabbinical school, apparently I was a perceived symbolic Authority On All Things Jewish.
"Of course I'm not offended," I assured her. I told her that I appreciated her efforts and it was no big deal because, let's face it, by comparison Hanukkah is no big deal.
My earnest secretary gasped, "You can't say that! That's antisemitic!" I assured her it wasn't, just a statement of reality. After all, I reminded her, there's no Hanukkah in Torah. (Events inspiring Hanukkah wouldn't happen for over 1,300 years after Torah.)
Someone overheard her say "antisemitic." Next thing I knew, a perceived symbolic Authority on All Things Jewish, son of an Asian-immigrant Israeli and destined for rabbinical school, was explaining Hanukkah to an over-serious Human Resources officer.
Good grief.
Years later, I learned that Hanukkah is a very big deal precisely because it post-dates Torah – a deep truth that makes Hanukkah an especially big deal in years like this one.
After Maccabee zealots beat back Hellenist suppression and restored the Temple during the mid-100s BCE, Jews made an annual celebration of it – but without spiritual authority. After all, "authority" came from Torah, canonized long before. How could there be a Jewish holiday without a basis in Torah?
After Rome destroyed the Temple in 70 CE, Roman historian Flauvius Josephus would record that Jews kept lighting candles for what he termed the "Festival of Lights." Mishnah went on to mention Hanukkah eight times (hint, hint) and even canonized a Hanukkah liturgy – but Talmud's rabbis had a problem. They didn't want a holiday to emerge from war or zealotry, much less without Torah's say so.
Yet the generations were voting with their candles. There was something about light amidst darkness, and celebration despite suppression, that illuminated the Jewish soul. The rabbis, astute politicians that they were, went along – but with a twist. They de-emphasized zealotry (including a Jewish civil war of sorts), and focused on light and joy.
In essence, rabbinic sleight of hand swapped spears for candles. Talmud would teach about Hanukkah's increasing rather than decreasing light (which is why we light the way we do.) The light of Hanukkah would link to the light of creation, the light of Shabbat and the light of the soul. The eight days of Hanukkah would map to the seven Biblical days of Creation plus an eighth day for "beyond this world" – a mystic's day for miracles.
To the rabbis, only light would overcome darkness, as in (Zachariah 4:6), "Not by might and not by power, but by My spirit, says the Lord of Hosts." Light would be the inner resilience and sometimes resistance. Debbie Friedman's "Not By Might" song followed. Joy and community would be Hanukkah's remedies for fear and isolation.
And none of it would be Torah's say-so. Hanukkah is because we and our ancestors say so.
As then, so now.
Hanukkah is a big deal because light, joy and community are spiritual superpowers not only when convenient. Amidst the excesses of consumerism, the sharpness of hate and the darkness of fascism, Hanukkah celebrates something that truly lasts.
Hanukkah is a big deal because we shine the hanukkiyah precisely out our windows to the outside. We claim the light of peoplehood amidst all.
Hanukkah is a big deal because we make it so, in partnership with ancestry but also adding to it. (Hanukkah's precedent made others possible such as Purim and Yom HaAtzmaut.)
Hag urim same'ah / a joyous Festival of Lights!
And none of it would be Torah's say-so. Hanukkah is because we and our ancestors say so.
As then, so now.
Hanukkah is a big deal because light, joy and community are spiritual superpowers not only when convenient. Amidst the excesses of consumerism, the sharpness of hate and the darkness of fascism, Hanukkah celebrates something that truly lasts.
Hanukkah is a big deal because we shine the hanukkiyah precisely out our windows to the outside. We claim the light of peoplehood amidst all.
Hanukkah is a big deal because we make it so, in partnership with ancestry but also adding to it. (Hanukkah's precedent made others possible such as Purim and Yom HaAtzmaut.)
Hag urim same'ah / a joyous Festival of Lights!
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