Today I got out the Chanukah boxes. Somehow, through the decades they have grown to four large plastic tubs. We own something like 30 menorot. Some from my parents, some that we made as kids, some that our kids made. Some from every period in our lives. My little girl menorah from the apartment in New York. One our neighbors gave us in Evanston. My first menorah in college. Our first menorah when we were married. Our first home. The one I bought for my not-yet baby who was supposed to be born during Chanukah and was not. (More on that one later.) A modern oil lamp I bought our first year in Elgin. In fact, I am looking for a new one to represent this important year for us, for the new “Lake House.”
One of my favorite chanukiot is a large one I bought in Philadelphia. I was working for SAP the large German software company headquartered in Waldorf, Germany. I had flown from Waldorf to Newtown Square, PA, its North American headquarters. It was Chanukah time and my flight to Boston was delayed. I wandered into the US Constitution Museum Gift Shop and found this replica of an 18th Century, Silver (plated) Early American Menorah. I bought it. Beyond my budget. After all I was in the shadow of the Liberty Bell with its message of “Proclaim liberty throughout the land.” After all, I can quote the letter of George Washington to the Hebrew Congregation of Newport, RI. “To bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance,” which continues with the hope that “every one shall sit in safety under his own vine and figtree, and there shall be none to make him afraid.” After all, I was an American Studies major with a speciality in colonial American History, focused on the Puritans and the witch trials. The real witch trials.
After all, I am an American. Period.
Our obligation as Jews is to publicize the miracle of the oil that lasted for eight days. (Even if we think that other miracles were even more important, like this ragtag band of Maccabees were able to reclaim the Holy Temple and to fight against assimilation). Our obligation is to place the chanukiah outside in a courtyard for all to see when they are returning from the marketplace. (Shabbat 21b) Our obligation, according to Hillel is to keep adding light, one each night to increase our light and our joy at this darkest time of year.
Except in a period of danger.
So what to do this year? Some have argued that this is a time of danger. The rising anti-semitism could easily suggest that. However, the codes are clear. A time of danger is described as a time when the authorities actively prohibit the lighting of chanukiot. We are not at that point. That is not to minimize the fear that the rising anti-semitism has caused. It is not to be polyannish or naïve. Sadly, these are scary times. I feel it too. Deeply.
Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg and I were on a similar discussion. Her Washington Post op-ed is worth the read. https://www.washingtonpost.com/outlook/2019/12/18/hanukkah-calls-jews-light-darkness-this-year-we-need-it-even-more/
The picture, which I had never seen of the menorah in the window with the Nazi flag displayed on the other side of the street, photographed in 1932 from the Yad V’shem collection is chilling.
In my reading of many books on anti-semitism, including two this year, First the Jews by Rabbi Evan Moffic and How to Fight Anti-semitism, by Bari Weiss, the best solution seems to be not cowering. Live your Judaism loud and proud. Be out there. Display your menorah, proudly.
Others will join us. That is an important message of Chanukah, too.
One of my favorite Chanukah books is The Christmas Menorahs: How a Town Fought Hate. In Billings, MT one year, a rock was thrown through a window of a house celebrating Chanukah. The response of the town, driven in large part by the local paper, was to stand in solidarity with the family and the Jewish people. Every home wound up displaying a menorah, much like the Jews of Denmark who wore a yellow star. This story from Billings is not ancient history. It was 1993. This book is an important way to start this very discussion.
In Elgin, we have many opportunities to come together as a community. At Winter Wonderland, at the Chabad celebration at the Centre, at CKI, in individual homes. Gail Borden Public Library has a display as do many schools, hospitals, nursing homes. Generally, I feel safe in Elgin. Respected. Valued. Appreciated.
This year, I have an opportunity to do exactly that in a way I have not before. In our new house, the front porch is an alcove. It is almost like a courtyard. So each night, we will place a menorah outside for all the world to see. Or at least my little corner of Elgin. Starting with my Early American one.