Bringing the light of Chanukah into a new year

One thing I love about Judaism is the way the annual cycles of Torah readings and holidays allow us to see how we change from year to year. We return to the familiar texts and celebrations, but we are not the same people, and we are not living in the same world. We discover new ways of perceiving our traditions, new ways of relating to others, new ways of being in the world.

This year, when Chanukah coincided with the beginning of a new year in the secular calendar, I found myself wondering what I might bring from our Festival of Lights into 2025.

I have never been a big fan of Chanukah. In fact, two years ago, in these pages, I wrote a piece called “Who Cares About Chanukah?” I confessed how little Chanukah meant to me and complained that this minor holiday, with its dubious history and muddled messages, has been glorified out of all proportion due to its proximity to Christmas. This year, any hope of explaining that Chanukah is not the “Jewish Christmas” was lost as everyone joyfully hopped on the Chrismukkah train.

But despite all that, I discovered a new appreciation for Chanukah during the recent holiday season.

I grew up in a secular, assimilated Jewish family, which meant that we celebrated Chanukah and Passover at home, but we did not attend services. And despite five years of rabbinical school that filled in many of the gaps in my Jewish education, I never knew until this year that there are Torah readings for each day of Chanukah. The readings are from Parshat Naso in the book of Numbers. They recount the offerings that the leaders of each tribe brought for the dedication of the mishkan, the portable sanctuary where the Israelites worshipped in the wilderness.

The readings are incredibly repetitive because the offerings are repeated 12 times, but the choice makes perfect sense for Chanukah. The word chanukah means “dedication,” and the holiday celebrates the rededication of the Temple after it was desecrated by the Greek ruler Antiochus.

When most people tell the story of Chanukah, they focus on the Maccabees, the rededication of the Temple, and the miracle of the oil that lasted eight days. I learned about the Chanukah Torah readings from my teacher, Rabbi Nehemia Polen. The connection between Chanukah and Torah became even stronger when Rabbi Polen explained that the eighth day of Chanukah is known as Zot Chanukah, named for the first words of the eighth day Torah portion: zot chanukat ha’mizbeach — this is the dedication of the altar.

Connecting the minor historical holiday of Chanukah back to the Torah struck a chord for me. The story of the Maccabees and Hasmoneans is complicated. I am uncomfortable with zealots who are prepared to kill and die for a cause. But this year, the holiday took on a deeper meaning, a connection, not only to the rededication of the Temple, but to the original dedication of the mishkan, the place where the Israelites first felt the presence of holiness.

Rabbi Polen also shared a teaching that connects the light of Chanukah to the Garden of Eden. On the first day of Creation, God creates light. This Divine light is not the light we experience in our world because the sun, moon, and stars have not yet been created. According to an early chasidic teaching, this special light remains in the Garden of Eden, and Adam and Eve experience it for 36 hours before they are expelled from the Garden. The 36 candles we light during Chanukah (the shamash does not count) recall that light.

I have never found the story of the miracle of the oil lasting eight days very meaningful, but connecting the light of our little wax candles all the way back to the dedication of the mishkan and the light of creation adds layers of holiness and wonder to our celebration.

Another chasidic teaching sees the whole period from the Days of Awe to Chanukah as a time of repentance. We begin the process of teshuvah on Yom Kippur with fasting, solemnity, and beating our breasts. But real teshuvah cannot take place in one day. Returning to our true selves, made in the divine image, takes time. By Chanukah, we are ready, and we express that readiness with joy and singing.

I am not the same person I was two years ago, and we are not living in the same world. We have seen more darkness and pain than any of us could have imagined as we headed into 2023. This year I experienced Chanukah in a new way. I felt the connection between this holiday and our ancient ancestors wandering in the wilderness, creating a space where God could dwell among them. I felt the miracle of light that suffuses our world and sustains us, not only for eight nights of Chanukah but every day. I felt the joy of remembering who I am and how I am connected to holiness.

Though Chanukah is over, I am carrying the gift of a renewed sense of connection, light, and joy into 2025.

Hannah Orden is rabbi emeritus of Congregation Beth Hatikvah in Summit.

Opinion

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