Hanukkah

The Festival of Lights. Even the name itself rings lustrous. Brightly burning flames, the aroma of frying latkes, shadows playing over the wall: they jump, fall and the rise again. We never know where they will go next.  In the deep recesses of winter we light the colored candles that radiate great hope when light becomes dimmest.

The Hanukkah stories are well worn. We are very familiar with the great wars, triumphs and amazing heroism of the Maccabees. We recall Mattathias, an old man standing up to a tyrannical power, and the handsome, winning bravery of Judah Maccabee  The stories are remembered and retold from year to year, generation to the willing ears of the new generation who listen wide-eyed with anticipation of what is coming.  These stories have all the components that summon our attention: they speak of a daring and courageous history where courage and light purge the land of Israel from impurity. Once we were fierce warriors. It was a different world.   

A child peers into the brilliance of the dancing flames and sees those epic battles relives them. Remember how many times we experienced and saw brave warriors in our minds, vanquishing all the enemies of the Jews! It is the moment of consummate triumph when we turned back the Greeks, the Pharaohs, the Hamans and even the Hitlers of history.

Which was better -- when mommy told us the stories as we lit the candles?  Or when we anxiously turned the pages of the book, or watched the movie?  It was a great and promising story from beginning to end. There is a clear demarcation of those that were wicked and bad and the other side, which was brave and righteous.  The good guys with God on their side prevailed.

What about the family playing dreidel that night? The gathered family and friends to celebrate, nosh and schmooze around the Hanukkiah?  When we push through all the cobwebs of the mind and remember those halcyon days they bring a smile to our face. Even now lips begin to curl upward in anticipation. We cannot help but recall the bubbling sound of frying potatoes in the kitchen. And the table set for eating, mixed together with a sulfurous odor from the Hanukkah lights.

Hanukkah was always warm. Steamed, fogged windows framed with light patches of water droplets.  Little fingers that drew pictures on the windows during those evenings when darkness came early.

The evenings were long. Filled with the sounds of voices, air that was so thick that it penetrated every fiber of our bodies, songs, games, stories…. it is hard to remember when it all ended. Did we get dressed slowly into pajamas?  Or did the night suddenly end as tired eyelids folded over and tiny bodies were tucked into bed? Those things remain in our hearts. The quilts under which our body snuggled became infused with the smell and the excitement of the sacred evening.

Good night and Hanukkah sameach.