Making Miracles

Written for the Campus Ministry Newsletter at the University of Saint Thomas
Chanukah 5780/2019 begins the night of December 22

Chanukah.

Shall we start with the brass-tacks?

What’s with the “ch” at the beginning of Chanukah? And why isn’t it always a “ch” and is sometimes “h”? Great question. I’ve been getting it a lot. Transliteration, the process of transferring a word from the alphabet of one language to another by changing the original letters to similar-sounding letters in the other language, can be great for helping us pronounce words in languages we can’t read in the original. But sometimes . . . it gets complicated. Chanukah in Hebrew is chet-nun-kaf-hay. חֲנֻכָּה. Simple, right? Sure! If English had a letter that sounded like חֲ. Chet is a gutteral letter. Instead of an airy “h” it’s a back-of-the-throat, throat-clearing kind of a sound. Think “ch” like “Bach”. So now you know. Rest assured, your “Happy Hanukah” will always be well-received in spelling or pronunciation.

If you want to read some good, clear background on this holiday, follow these links to My Jewish Learning and Jewish Virtual Library.

Chanukah means “dedication”. Essentially, Chanukah, the Festival of Rededication, also known as the Festival of Lights, celebrates the rededication of the Temple in Jerusalem (the Second Temple) after its defilement by the Syrian Greeks in 164 BCE. A late addition to our calendar, and a relatively minor holiday like Purim, Chanukah is much beloved in the Jewish community and widely celebrated. If you remember your Torah/Hebrew Bible/Old Testament studies, you’ll recall that Aaron and the kohanim (the priests) were charged with keeping the ner tamid (the eternal lamp) lit. With the defilement of the Temple, oppression and massacre of the Jews, and Greek rule, the light went out. When the small band of Jewish people led by the Maccabees fought the enormous Greek army and won (the first miracle of Chanukah) and retook the Temple, in addition to needing to do something about the big statue to a Greek god and cleaning everything up, they also searched for oil to relight that lamp finding only enough for one day. The story goes that the second miracle of Chanukah was that the oil that should have only lasted for one day lasted for eight, and that’s why we celebrate and light candles for eight nights and eat a lot of fried foods – especially latkes. And maybe that’s it. Maybe the story we tell our youngest children is enough.

Or maybe ask me about the relationship between Sukkot and Chanukah. Or about why so many Jewish people today are named Alexander and what that has to do with something that happened before 164 BCE. Or about the Jewish people who didn’t join in Judah Maccabee’s revolt against the Greeks. Or why in my family we have a pizza and wine party during Chanukah every year. (Heard of Judith?) Or potato menorahs. Or what Chanukah has to do with Purim. Or why those particular letters are on our dreidels. Or why many Ethiopian Jews celebrated it the first time when they made aliyah (moved) to Israel.

The thing about Chanukah is, it’s connected to the rest of the Jewish calendar. It’s connected to all of Jewish history. It’s connected to all of Jewish tradition and values and beliefs. The folks who fought back against the Greek army weren’t only waging a military battle, they were also asserting the right to be themselves, to not assimilate into Hellenist culture, to not become Greek. They were fighting for the Temple, and they were also fighting for themselves. And when they discovered there was only enough oil for today, they had to make a choice. Do we light the oil anyway? Do we accept that we never know what tomorrow or the next day or next week will bring and bring the light – our light – into the world now anyway? Or do we hold onto it, and wait until we’ve made more oil, until we know for sure there is enough to keep it burning? Until it feels . . . safer?

For me, the miracle of the oil is that beyond all reason, they decided to light it. They rededicated the Temple because there was enough for today. They were enough for today. How often do we look at the suffering in the world, the pain, the injustice – maybe our own suffering – and feel our hearts wrench in our uncertainty? How am I ever going to do all that I need to do tomorrow, the next day, next week, next month? How can I ever be enough? What a miracle it is when we can take a breath and remember that we are enough. We are enough in this day. And in this day we dedicate ourselves to bringing all of the light and joy and hope and justice and peace and love to the world that we can. That is ours to bring.

For me the miracle of Chanukah is that every night of eight that I light another light, I rededicate myself to trusting that I am enough, and that every day I can bring the light that is mine to bring to the world. And because on the first night I light one and the second two and the third three, I experience tangibly that I can bring with me – as it were – the lights from the previous nights, too. And if I’m bringing my light, and so are you, and so are our neighbors . . . then God willing our world will become lit up with justice and peace and love. Our world in which it’s great to be “Greek”, and great to be Jewish, and the best of all to be in it together – to be neighbors.

What a miracle that would be!