Joshua Hammerman
Rabbi, award winning journalist, author of "Embracing Auschwitz" and "Mensch-Marks: Life Lessons of a Human Rabbi"

The Thanksgivukkah Dilemma

I flipped my calendar this morning and lo and behold, all those rumors I’ve been hearing are true: Yes, Hanukkah begins this year before Thanksgiving (technically the night before) for the first time in 125 years and the last time for 79,043 years, according to one calculation.  Thanksgivukkah has become a big deal in the media, though many Jewish families have combined the two celebrations before, when Hanukkah has begun while families were still gathered for the long holiday weekend.  It’s fun, it’s inspired a whole host of creative ideas and lots of Jewish pride. Buzzfeed calls it “the best holiday of all time.” There’s even a song, “The Ballad of Thanksgivukkah.”

Here’s a chance for Jews to celebrate two holidays at once without the second holiday posing significant theological problems for us.  Here’s a chance to combine Hanukkah with its American counterpart, totally guilt free.

Here’s a chance to have our cranberry-latke stuffing and eat it too.

But people are ignoring the other side of the matter.  What happens when the turkey is digested and the final candle has burned out?  What will happen this year on December 5, when Hanukkah is behind us and Christmas has the month all to itself?

I’ll tell you what will happen.  Hanukkah will in fact be prolonged, like a souped-up dreidel. Much like the endless Christmas season, this year’s Hanukkah will drag on eternally, clear through to January.  You see, as obsessed as American Jews are becoming with Thanksgivukkah, most of the other 97 percent of Americans will not get the memo.  For them, Hanukkah will be in December, as usual.

Yes, Virginia, there still will be a “December Dilemma” this year, that annual uphill battle against the pervasive, domineering cultural crescendo of all things Christmas.  Hanukkah is typically, the greatest ally in this fight. Jews have been able to match those Twelve Days of Christmas with our Eight Crazy Nights, pit menorah against mistletoe, watch dreidels twirl against the tinsel, our lights against their lights, the blue and white against the green and red.

It’s not a fair fight, especially with regard to the songs, although if you disqualify those Christmas classics written by Jews, things get more interesting.

My interest in this is very personal. My father was born on the first day of Hanukkah in 1918, a rare year when the first night of Hanukkah coincided with the late afternoon of Thanksgiving, and he died on the last day of Hanukkah in 1979, which just happens to be the most recent time the holiday ended on New Year’s Day. Plus, our last name, in rough translation, means Maccabee.

But this dilemma raises questions that go far beyond my own family. What should Jews say when well-intended shopkeepers wish us a “Happy Hanukkah” on Christmas Eve, nearly a month after our holiday has ended?

Do we return those unwanted Barbie dolls during those non-existent “after Hanukkah sales,” or do we dare hold onto them until Dec. 26, when the prices really go down? Without Hanukkah to fall back on, how do we resist the Yuletide onslaught on television and in our schools? Is it possible to add a few weeks onto Hanukkah on a one-time-only basis?

I suppose that with the Christmas season now beginning as early as October, there’s nothing so wrong about letting Hanukkah be extended a few weeks in the other direction, especially since that will enable Jews and their neighbors to share this season of good will in a manner that respects diversity rather than demanding homogeneity.

So by all means, non Jews, wish me a Happy Hanukkah all December long. If that legendary oil could miraculously burn for eight whole days, what’s another twenty one? The ancient rabbis instructed Jews to increase the light each night in order to spread the joy and publicize the miracle. No one ever said that we have to stop at eight. In fact, Jewish law states that the Sabbath can be extended far beyond its natural conclusion on Saturday night, even until midweek. So let Hanukkah linger as well, even if only in the well wishes of neighbors.

In the spirit of M.O.T. Jerry Herman’s song from “Mame,” “We Need a Little Christmas,” another Yuletide classic with a Yiddish soul, maybe this year we should sing, “We a Little MORE Hanukkah,” enough to last clear to the end of the month.

Let’s keep those flames burning, all December long — and even beyond. During these trying times, we all could use a little more light.

About the Author
Award-winning journalist, father, husband, son, friend, poodle-owner, Red Sox fan and rabbi of Temple Beth El in Stamford, CT. Author of Mensch-Marks: Life Lessons of a Human Rabbi – Wisdom for Untethered Times and "Embracing Auschwitz: Forging a Vibrant, Life-Affirming Judaism that Takes the Holocaust Seriously." His Substack column, One One Foot: A Rabbi's Journal, can be found at Rabbi Hammerman was a winner of the Simon Rockower award, the highest honor in Jewish journalism, for his 2008 columns on the Bernard Madoff case, which appeared first on his blog and then were discussed widely in the media. In 2019, he received first-prize from the Religion News Association, for excellence in commentary. Among his many published personal essays are several written for the New York Times Magazine and Washington Post. He has been featured as's Conservative representative in its "Ask the Rabbi" series and as "The Jewish Ethicist," fielding questions on the New York Jewish Week's website. Rabbi Hammerman is an avid fan of the Red Sox, Patriots and all things Boston; he also loves a good, Israeli hummus. He is an active alum of Brown University, often conducting alumni interviews of prospective students. He lives in Stamford with his wife, Dr. Mara Hammerman, a psychologist. They have two grown children, Ethan and Daniel, along with Cobie, Casey and Cassidy, three standard poodles. Contact Rabbi Hammerman: (203) 322-6901 x 307