The Year I Understood Hanukkah

It took me decades to make sense of Hanukkah.

Growing up in the former Soviet Union, religion was not part of our existence. It had been stripped away and mostly outlawed. All Jews I knew were secular, although most had a strong Jewish identity. I’d never even heard of Hanukkah until I moved to the US at the age of fifteen.

I first learned about Hanukkah from Chabad girls with whom I went to school for a short time. Their explanation focused on the literal miracle and the religious aspects of the story. These did not resonate with me particularly strongly. The second version of Hanukkah came from Reform and secular American Jews. Here, the focus was on “The Festival of Lights”, occasionally talking about light overcoming darkness. It sounded nice but not terribly important. Hanukkah felt more like an answer to Christmas, a way to make sure that Jewish kids didn’t feel left out during the holiday season, than a serious holiday.

I bought a Hanukkiah in college and would light it when I remembered because it made me feel more connected to my culture. But the holiday still did not feel particularly significant.

This year, everything changed. The day before the holiday I watched a video of the “beautiful six” – Carmel, Eden, Hersh, Ori, Almog, and Alex – lighting Hanukkah candles in the tunnels. Knowing that they would not leave the tunnels alive was almost unbearable. I saw their courage and strength, as well as sadness. But most of all, I saw their unshakable faith in the importance of preserving their Jewish identity. The next day, Jews celebrating Hanukkah were murdered at Bondi beach. 

And it was as if a switch flipped. I came to the realization that Hanukkah is about having the strength and courage to say “I am a Jew” in the face of hate; it is about fighting oppression. It is about resilience and perseverance of the Jewish people. It is about our very survival. To me, the real miracle of Hanukkah is that after millennia of oppression, persecution, and attempts at extermination, we are still here.

I watched former hostage Gadi Moses light candles on the first night of Hanukkah. His words, “I am a secular Jew. I am a proud Jew”, I felt deeply. I found my college Menorah and lit it together with my son. Because now, more than ever, we have to stand up and show the world that we are still here, and we are here to stay.