Reflections on Chanukka and Christmas

The recent event at a popular beach in Sydney at the commencement of the Festival of Chanukka where so many people were killed and injured through a senseless act of terrorism is a further reminder of the power of these festivals of Chanukka and Christmas. 

WE need to allow the light of our God to shine into the darkness of our world. 

WE are God’s agents of illumination despite the evil acts the unfold around us.

Against the backdrop of Christmas, one of the two major celebrations in the Christian year, Chanukka for Jews is a minor festival, although both are welcome festivals of light in what is for the Northern Hemisphere, the darkest time of the year.

Many religious traditions celebrate the triumph of light over darkness. But Chanukka celebrates something else, as well. It celebrates the triumph of the continuing rabbinic authority to wrestle with the tradition. As opposed to the sect of the Karaites, Biblical fundamentalists who saw in Chanukka a heresy—a non-Biblical festival—the Rabbis mandated special blessings and prayers for a later development. Thus, one of the meanings of Chanukka is liturgical continuity and change.

This year, the happiness of the season was marred by a tragic terror incident during the celebration of the first day of Chanukka in Sydney, Australia. It was the biggest mass shooting in Australia in decades, leaving at least 15 people killed and more injured. We pray for their recovery and the recovery of safety and security to all.

Wishing all who have reasons to celebrate in this season joy and satisfaction, and may we be blessed to fulfill the prophetic reading mandated for the Shabbat of Chanukka, from the book of Zechariah, 'Not by might, nor by power, but by My spirit, saith the Lord of Hosts.'

"How silently, how silently / The wondrous gift is given! / So God imparts to human hearts / The blessings of His heaven."
From the Christmas Carol, O Little Town of Bethlehem.

The story of Chanukka in the rabbinic tradition is not so much one of triumph, but of a gentle miracle of sustaining light, which people at first might not even realize is a miracle. Much the same can be said of how Christians may - and arguably should – understand Christmas. It isn't so much about all the busyness (the shopping and the partying and the extra services and the children’s talks), as it is about something hidden and interior; something you have to look for, or work at. That may be countercultural, but Jews and Christians have thought over the centuries that such inner gifts are what the Eternal One habitually and reliably brings.

There are times when we can only say that this is not enough, and this year’s Chanukka is one of those, as news comes in of the horrors of murders in Syndey precisely during the Chanukka festival. 

We pray: “How long, O God, how long?” and hunger and thirst for direct intervention from the heavens to see justice done and victims consoled. As indeed we have done throughout this year. I have no intention of trying to explain why it cannot be so. I have long believed that sometimes the “joy” of our festival of light can take the form of grim determination to light the candles anyway. “Nevertheless” can be a word loaded with spiritual power.

When she got off the evening tram, a strong wind immediately drove huge flakes of wet snow into her eyes. It was precisely this heavy snowfall, turning into gray slush on the sidewalk, and the kitschy decorations in the shop windows that reminded her that Christmas was approaching again. Otherwise, there was nothing to look forward to. At home, an empty apartment and an empty prospect awaited her. As she made her way down the sloping sidewalk towards home, she slipped, and her shopping spilled out of the bag during the fall. She remained shaken for a moment. Suddenly, she saw the figure of a young man above her. The pale neon of a street lamp illuminated his silhouette. He offered her his hand and then helped her gather the scattered tangerines. A sad look, but a slight smile on his face. Then he turned and left without a word. The thick sleet continued to cover the streets and sidewalks.

"The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it." (Gospel of John 1:5; NRSVA)

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The views, opinions, and conclusions expressed by the author(s) of this article do not necessarily represent the views of the ICCJ, its Executive Board, or its national member organizations.