Hanukkah at the Roots: Night 1 - Israel/Gaza

Lex Rofeberg is Senior Jewish Educator at Judaism Unbound and serves as a co-host of the organization’s podcast. Ordained as a rabbi, he has participated in a number of Jewish activist movements and is an incoming board member at The Shalom Center.

Folks love citing the aphorism “2 Jews, 3 opinions.” But this time of year, I often think that “8 Jews, 9 meanings of Hanukkah¹” might be even more apt. Heck, it even matches our hanukkiyahs, which have 8 candles — but 9 if you count the shamash — the helper candle.

For some, this holiday’s primary message relates to an ancient story of Maccabees, and rebellion, and military conflict. For others, Chanukah’s central narrative speaks to God, and miracles, and long-lasting oil. For still others, the most important features of Hanukah in the 21st century have less to do with historic or mythic events from a couple thousand years ago, and a lot more to do with latkes, and family, and light in the midst of darkness. Some mix and match these ideas, which need not be mutually exclusive.

It can be a bit of a challenge to build our collective Jewish relationship to Hanukkah, when it speaks in such fundamentally different respects to different groups of people.

As a result, I sometimes try to identify the common-ground across all these different stories and narratives for the festival of lights. The clearest common-ground I can find is fire. Flames flickering, in an eight-branched candelabra, with one additional sun-candle (I sometimes think of it not as shamash but as shemesh — Hebrew for “sun”). This sun-candle — just like our solar-system’s sun — makes it possible for eight candles/planets to function.²

Fire is complicated. In this ritual, and others, it is unbelievably vital. It shines light, warms bodies, and creates beauty. When “fire works,” we look up at the sky and feel awe.

But fire doesn’t always work. Fire also destroys. Fire can cause objects, and more importantly people, to be consumed long before they should be. Fire can harm, and it can end lives. In one of Hanukkah’s central narratives, oil lasts longer than expected. But fire can have the opposite effect. People meant to live rich life-spans of 80 years can, through fire, sometimes tragically last for only 10. This should hurt us to our core, every single time, no matter what the ethno-religious background of the person whose life has been cut short.

I, like many of you, have spent my last couple months advocating against these harmful forms of fire. Calling visibly, and loudly, for a ceasefire in Israel-Palestine. For bombing to end. For all, of every ethno-religious background, who are held captive against their will to be released. In the words of Isaiah, for a transformation from swords and shields to ploughshares and pruning-hooks. Hanukkah, with its central ritual’s reliance on fire, could feel incongruous, or ironic, given that work we are so committed to.

I actually do hope that when we light our menorahs, we are reminded that fire does not only bring light to the world — it also kills. Our holiday rituals should not only serve as sanctuaries from the injustices of the world, but rather as reminders of the work we must do to confront them. My prayer for Chanukah, this year and all years, is that the lighting of our candles can be more than just a rote ritual. This action should serve as a meditation on the pivotal distinctions between fires of warmth, or healing, on the one hand — and fires of destruction and war on the other.

We live in a world where catastrophic forms of fire are treated as necessary and normal, even when they wreak devastation. May lighting our candles on Hanukkah remind us to work toward a world where this is no longer so.

We also live in a world where fiery passions burn, in many of us, for justice. Those fires within our hearts must serve as an eish tamid — an eternal fire — and as Leviticus instructs, may it be that these fires never be extinguished.

Happy Chanukah to every one of you, sincerely. This holiday is a tool in our Jewish toolbox, which can be mobilized toward the betterment of our world. This year, may we channel its ritual’s flames to upend the world’s violent fires. Chag Chanukkah Sameach — let’s seize this fire, and wield it toward ceasefire.

— by Lex Rofeberg


—————

¹ You will notice, in this piece, that I spell (c)han(n)uk(k)a(h) in a variety of different ways. I find that many people think there is a "right" way to spell chanukah — and they can be afraid to post about it because they think they'll be told they're wrong. As a person who writes and speaks about Judaism regularly, I try to model that there are fewer "correct" ways to be Jewish (in this case, "correct spellings") than we often presume. Each of these spellings, and many others, is totally okay!

² Apologies to Pluto, but there are indeed 8 total planets, parallel to our Chanukah menorahs!

Read/Watch/Listen:
Tonight at 5pm, Rabbis for Ceasefire, an ad-hoc group of Rabbis and Rabbinical students across political affiliations and denominations who are calling for a ceasefire and a political solution in Israel/Gaza, will be livestreaming a Hanukkah candle lighting action at 5pm from Columbus Circle in NYC. If you’re in NYC or the surrounding area, please join in person. If you can’t make it in person, all are invited to watch the livestream here.

Action Item:
Call for a permanent ceasefire. Dial 1-202-224-3121, tell the person on the line what state you’re from, and ask for the offices of your two Senators. When you reach your Senator’s office, ask to speak to the staffer who works on Middle East policy. If that person is busy, ask to make an appointment with the staffer or to leave a message on the incoming Opinion line.

Explain to the staffer (or the recording) who you are and where you live. Share that you are horrified by the loss of life in Israel and Gaza and that you believe that the only solution to this crisis is a political one. Ask the Senator to pass your message on to the President, urging him to demand a ceasefire, including the immediate release of all hostages and an international political solution to this tragedy. Thank the staffer and Senator and say goodbye. Call your second Senator, and repeat.

Kavannah

by Rabbi Arthur Waskow

Tonight the days diminish
And the nights darken.
Moon and sun remind us
How we thirst for light.
The festival of lights
Gives us a taste of light-filled water.

Our mother-in-love Hagar
Cried tears of grief and from them grew
A wellspring of light
To nourish our half-brother, cousin,
“Ishmael — God hearkens!”
The Wellspring of the Living One Who Sees Me.

We kindle this candle
To see more deeply
Her
Her son
And all their children;

And as our own ancestor Isaac — Laughing One —
Came to join his brother Laughter-maker Ishmael
To live at the Wellspring of the Living One Who Sees Me.
Ourselves in all our grief and anger
Our cousins in all their grief and anger
Determined to see each other
And make war no longer.

Blessings

midrashic translations by Rabbi Arthur Waskow

Baruch atah / Brucha aht Yahhh, Blessed are You, Breath of life, Ruach HaOlam, Interbreathing of the world, asher kidshanu b’mitzvot, vitzivanu l’hadlik ner shel Hanukkah, Who makes us holy by connecting with the Breath and with each other, at this moment to kindle the light of Hanukkah to see our cousins.

Baruch atah, YHWH {Yahh} Eloheinu, Ruach haolam, she-asah nisim — lo v’chayil v’lo v’choach ki im b’ruchech — l’horeinu bayamim hahaeim baz’man hazeh.

Blessed are You, YHWH [Yahhh] our God, Breath of all life, Who has brought about amazing deeds — not by might and not by power, but by Your Spirit — through our forebears in those days and in ourselves, this very season.

Baruch atah / Brucha aht Yahhh, Blessed are You, Breath of life, Ruach HaOlam, Interbreathing of the world, sheh-hechi-anu — who fills us with life; v’kimanu — who lifts us up; v’higi-anu lazman hazeh; who carries us to this very moment.

Light shamash / helper candle and Candle 1 of Hanukkiah.