Chanukah
As I walk through New York City these days, particularly in the evening, I am conscious of a desire to hold on to this magical time of year and not to let it pass. The city is filled with lights and decorations and people in beautiful clothes; the sidewalks are crowded with Christmas trees and holiday shoppers. It seems like everyone is heading out to a party and the darkness is warm and cozy, not cold and lonely. Wouldn’t it be great if it were like this all winter long until spring comes? And come to think of it, why stop just because the days are longer?
One could argue that the story of Chanukah is also about holding on. The second blessing reminds us of the miracles that were performed on our behalf at this time of year – this very same time of year. Now it’s just like it was back then! We want to remember the miracles and the deliverances, to keep the power of memory, to bring back traditions of our real or mythical ancestors – the specific latke technique, the Yiddish or Ladino melodies.
How profound, however, that the candles we use to make known the miracles are small, thin candles that go out in less than an hour! They are not like Shabbat candles that last through dinner or like yahrzeit candles that burn 24 hours. In fact, one of my family’s traditions is betting on which candle will go out last and watching intently as the flames flare and gutter and go out, releasing its twisting ribbon of smoke.
We know that everything passes – the candles, the holidays, the winter, life itself. Even the miracles come and go; the siddur reminds us that new miracles are constantly with us, morning, noon and night. The ephemeral candles remind us that light is beautiful, even when it’s fleeting – perhaps even because it is fleeting. They remind us that joy and gratitude in and of themselves are miracles of the spirit.
Wishing you and your loved ones a Chanukah filled with light and all kinds of miracles.