Growing up Jewish in a Christmas-saturated culture felt like watching a spectacular party through a window: The twinkling lights, perfectly wrapped presents under decorated trees, stop-motion reindeer specials, and the entire world seemingly wrapped in a cozy blanket of holiday cheer.
I remember sitting in front of the TV, mesmerized by scenes of snow-covered streets and Santa's midnight sleigh journeys, watching 'Home Alone' and going to the store where I was wowed by the gigantic Xmas trees, watching the shopping channel and its never ending adverts about the search for the perfect tree, the carols and Xmas trinkets to decorate the tree.
But here's the thing - while I was dreaming of someone else's traditions, I was standing in the warm glow of my own heritage's incredible light.
Think about it: We have eight nights of candles gradually brightening the darkness, each flame telling a story of courage and miracles that spans millennia. We have real heroes in the Chanukah story, the Maccabees who fought against impossible odds for religious freedom. We have the dreidel, whose simple spinning sides carry the weight of survival and persistence through history.
Our Hannukah story is nothing short of magnificent. It's not just the 8 days of oil which should have lasted for one or the military miracle. In fact, in some small (or big) way, we are still fighting against the greeks, whose hellenistic culture insidiously creeps into our lives, still, even thousands of years later.
As I've grown older, I've come to appreciate the profound beauty in our celebrations. There's something deeply moving about gathering around the chanukiah each night, adding another light to push back the darkness. The smell of latkes frying, the competitive edge of dreidel games played for chocolate gelt, the familiar melodies of Maoz Tzur - these aren't just holiday traditions, they're links in a chain that connects me to my grandfather who escaped Nazi Germany and to the countless generations who came before.
The miracle of the oil lasting eight days speaks to the endurance of Jewish faith and identity. The Maccabees' victory reminds us that standing up for our beliefs, even when vastly outnumbered, is worth the fight.
So while young Jewish kids might still press their noses against metaphorical windows during December, watching the Christmas festivities with wonder, I hope they also turn around to see the real, transcendent, everlasting unique magic glowing in their own homes.
Our traditions are ancient and magnificent. They shine perfectly bright on their own, illuminating a path that stretches from ancient Jerusalem to today's menorahs flickering in windows around the world.
So, go ahead and keep your glitz and your tinsel and your carols and your gingerbread houses.
We will keep our Judaism, we will cling to it for all we are worth and we will never ever let go.
May these 8 days fill our homes with light and love and wonder and joy, and the miracles we so desperately pray for.
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