A few nights ago, Mister and I were invited to a friend’s home for Hanukkah. We were asked to share in their family’s lighting of that night’s candle, which was to be blessed by their Rabbi. Though we’ve lived in L.A. for a good, long time, this was our first time attending a Hanukkah celebration.
We were all gathered around the dining room table. The man of the house was telling the story of his son’s brit milah (pronounced “bris”). It was a great story, and just as he neared its end, we looked out the window – into the darkness of the street below – and saw a van approaching. That van had a giant, at-least-4-feet-high menorah mounted to its roof. The Rabbi had arrived.
The Rabbi and 3 of his children came in and were made comfortable. The Rabbi spoke a bit about Hanukkah and its magic, then he spoke of the rigidity of religion, and how being too rigid – no matter which religion one practices – can lead to trouble. Trouble of the heart, trouble in the world. He was brief, and then it was time to light the menorah.
We all moved into the living room and the Rabbi and the man of the house sang the blessings of the menorah and of its lighting. They lit the candles together, and just like that, it was all over.
I was so grateful to have witnessed this ancient ritual. I loved that the Rabbi told us we should each think of something we had done that day – something of service to another – when lighting the candles. I loved being told not to be too rigid, lest we break. I loved the singing of prayers. I loved the soft light of the menorah.
I loved other things, too. The potato latkes. The Rabbi’s son, who absolutely schooled me on Jewish life. (I know nothing, y’all, so the schooling was a gift.) The giant menorah on the Rabbi’s van. The beautiful family hosting the evening’s festivities.
The world is a big place, and sometimes it can be dark, scary. I don’t deny that. But I, like many others, are desperate to find the light. We know just how small this big place can be. We love that. And we are not dissuaded in our searching, no matter how much darkness we may encounter. We are blessed to have hope on our side.
And finally, for this non-Jew, I loved being reminded of just how much light can be cast from tiny candles. And for a moment at least, I saw clearly.