Hanukkah miracle extends beyond one faith
Sabena Stark
December 4, 2010
A chilly evening, but inside steam whistled and trembled in the air above the metal radiator rooted to the floor of our kitchen. It was the first night of Hanukkah.
My mother sat across the room with a broad wooden bowl in her lap. With both hands inside the bowl, she grated potatoes and tear-inducing onions on the fine teeth of a four-sided grater. She cracked in some eggs, added a handful of matzoh meal, then salt and pepper, and stirred the batter quickly, her eyes still tearing from the onions, while a shallow lake of cooking oil heated in a frying pan.
As she spooned the latke batter into the hot oil, the sizzle and delicious aroma of potato and onion filled the apartment.
My sister and I sat at the table, peering into the 4-inch-tall cardboard box that held multiple multicolored Hanukkah candles. We chose our favorite combination of colors to place in the chanukiyah, the nine-branched menorah that held our candles. Each night the number of candles we drew from the box increased by one. On the eighth night, there were exactly nine candles left, eight to stand side by side and one to serve as the shamash, the helper candle that lit the others.
Before we lit the wicks and chanted the blessing, my father struck a match and heated the bottom of each candle just slightly so its base would cling to its cup on the chanukiyah. We stood together when it was time to light the candles and sing the Hanukkah prayers. The dancing lights made our home lovely and special.
When the latkes were ready, my mother would bring a plateful to the table, along with a bowl of applesauce and a pan of baked chicken or bowls of golden chicken soup. The latkes were crispy on the outside and tender on the inside. No matter how many she made, they disappeared quickly.
After dinner, we would spin the dreidle, the four-sided top, to win a few pennies or little chocolate coins, and, when we were old enough, on the last night my sister and I would each be given a shiny quarter or 50-cent piece.
My father told the stories of the Maccabees’ successful battle to save our Jewish spiritual traditions from the oppressive edicts of King Antiochus in 164 BC, and of the cleaning and rededication of the holy Temple of Jerusalem from defilement by Greek trespasses. We listened to the tale of the Hanukkah miracle, the cruse of oil that lit the Temple menorah for eight nights instead of only one.
As an adult, I learned that this history was more complex than the stories we were told as children. Today the Hanukkah miracle is the continuing survival of the Jewish people. Hanukkah, the Festival of Lights, is a fierce reminder to honor and protect freedom of religion for all people and a time to rejoice in the simple yet awe-inspiring beauty of light, our metaphor for the Eternal Holy One.
Sabena Stark is a writer and member of Temple Beth Israel. This column is coordinated by Lane Interfaith Alliance to offer inspiration, share personal spiritual experiences and bring a deeper understanding of individual faith perspectives with the intention of blessing our community and the world. For information, visit www.laneinterfaithalliance.org or call 541-344-0430.