Impressions of Hanukkah 2023
By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman
December 15, 2023
Hanukkah is always a joyous holiday. The candles on the chanukiya—the Hanukkah menorah or candelabra—glow and bring a small—but bright—measure of light to our long and dark evenings. Sumptuous foods (of course), the company of friends and family—what more could one ask for?
This year it’s different.
This year it’s colder, darker and drearier than in previous years.
I never thought it would be like this. I always thought of Hanukkah as a relatively minor holiday meant mostly for children, created long ago but enhanced for our own multicultural and materialistic time. However, this time around I came to understand the deeper essence of Hanukkah and the real miracle that the candles help us remember.
This year the joy and light are dimmed by tears, by the enormity of evil and hate. The war between Israel and the terrorist organization Hamas isn’t over yet and shows no sign of ending any time soon. The Israeli news sources I follow are filled with sad stories: So many soldiers have fallen, so many wounded; so many sacrifices, and so much pain and longing. And how many will yet carry physical and emotional scars for the rest of their lives? I hear the stories of humiliation and hunger told by released hostages, and stories about those who will never be released. Over 100 are still held in captivity, not allowed visits by so-called humanitarian organizations that choose to criticize “the context” of their captivity instead of tending to their medical and other needs.
I also read and hear about the surge of antisemitism in the US, and I am grieved to know that this oldest, most vile, most dangerous and murderous hatred, is still with us.
And yet, as I look at the candles on my chanukiya I am filled with hope. Hanukkah this year has been more than special. It’s been extraordinary, and deeply moving and meaningful. Here are my impressions of Hanukkah 2023:
First candle: On the first evening of the holiday, we celebrated Hanukkah at my wife’s temple. Our grandson, Zev, now two years old, was a bit uncertain at first, but when he did warm up, he took to the bimah (the stage) and yelled into the microphone, “Happy Hanukkah” with so much joy that the old prophecy of Isaiah, “And a child shall lead them,” immediately came to mind and heart.
Second candle: Last Friday evening our own congregation held its annual Hanukkah celebration, and what a joyful event that was! Our sanctuary was filled to capacity with old members, new members, seniors, children, and many guests from the larger community! And as we lit our chanukiyot, the glow from all those candles was enough to fill all our hearts! The joy was enhanced by the wonderful companionship, the singing, and of course the delicious food.
Third candle: Saturday morning we had a guest speaker at the temple: the District Attorney from our region of the Denver Metro area. In a calm and quiet voice, our guest was able to reassure us of his personal and official support, as well as that of the local police force, easing some of the anxiety we’ve been feeling these last few weeks. We felt strengthened by his presentation.
Sunday, fourth candle: Our Religious School celebrated Hanukkah, and what a celebration THAT was! More latkes, more sufganiyot (jelly-filled donuts), spirited dreidel spinning, songs and decorations! The joy was evident on the faces of all the children and all others who were there, adding yet more gladness to our holiday and hearts.
Monday evening, fifth candle: an exceptional event organized by the US Attorney for Colorado and the ADL, with the participation of the Attorney General, several police chiefs and representatives of other law enforcement agencies, as well as members of quite a few communities of faiths, all coming together to discuss safety and security at houses of worship.
Years ago, in a book whose title and author escape my memory at the moment (perhaps someone reading this will remind me), I came upon a line that has stayed with me this whole time: That during the years of the Shoah, the Holocaust, under the Nazis and their associates, the Jews found ourselves “outside the protection of the law.” These safety and security events told me that things today—as sobering as they are—are nowhere near that state. How fortunate. The divisions in our society and culture today are deep and wide, but the Jewish community is not facing them alone. We have the support, the care and friendship of many in our wider communities.
Let the light increase.
Sixth candle: the new electric menorah I had ordered arrived just in time to be placed in the window, its light brighter than ever.
Seventh candle: Yet more latkes, and no noticeable weight gain. Small miracles are as appreciated as great ones. The wonder in Zevi’s eyes only increases, and now he is allowed—with his parents’ guidance—to light the candles in his own chanukiya. Unfortunately, he is also getting obsessed with presents, but hopefully he will learn that Hanukkah isn’t only about gifts—that it’s as much about giving as receiving.
Eighth candle: As Zev and I were sitting together last night, watching a Hanukkah video, he suddenly turned to me, his eyes as big and full as saucers, and said with all the love and intensity contained within his heart, “Happy Hanukkah, Saba!” And at that moment I understood better than ever, that the miracle of Hanukkah isn’t only about a little can of oil that was supposed to last for only one night but instead sufficed for eight nights. It’s an ongoing miracle, ancient and new at once, a miracle of small lights that have the power to chase away darkness.
No one knows what the future may bring. We know that the challenges ahead will be difficult and numerous. Without a doubt, there is still so much darkness around us. Even when the current fighting ends—and please God, may that be soon! —there will be grief and mourning. There will be a flood of rage directed at leaders who promised—but failed—to protect us, and against those false friends who abandoned us at our time of need and distress. And then, once these emotions are spent, the time will come for healing, for rebuilding homes and families, and for restoring a nation—united once again, rededicated to our common goals and ideals.
For that, after all, is the literal meaning of the word hanukkah—rededication.
The eight days of the Hanukkah are over now, but tonight I feel so much more confident than I did a week ago. And that’s what I took from this year’s holiday. More than ever, I understood the secret behind the miracle, the message encased in the treasured story we tell and retell.
Just as the Maccabees did more than 2200 years ago, so too today, we, their descendants, have to rely on military power to overcome our enemies. But there is something else, a force greater than any other, that keeps us steady on our path, going forward from generation to generation. We read it in this week’s haftarah, in the book of Zechariah: “This is the word of God…: Not by might, nor by power, but by My spirit, said God of Hosts” (Zechariah 4:6). It’s the spirit of love; it’s the might of eight little candles to dispel hatred and banish darkness.
It’s to this mission that we rededicate ourselves this year more than ever. May this be God’s will. Amen.
© 2023 by Boaz D. Heilman
