Last night, Jews around the world celebrated the start of Hanukkah by lighting a candle in the eight-branched candelabra known as a hanukkiah (or
menorah), eating fried potato latkes and spinning colourful, four-sided tops known as dreidels. The holiday lasts for eight days and commemorates the victory of the Maccabees over the Syrian-Greeks in the second century before the Common Era, and the apparent miracle of one day’s worth of oil powering the menorah in the Jerusalem Temple for eight days. While Hanukkah has nowhere the religious significance for Judaism that Christmas has for Christianity, by dint of it falling in December many have come to associate it with a sort of Jewish version of Christmas. As a child, I recall saying to my non-Jewish babysitter that we Jews are luckier than Christians in that we get eight days of presents rather than just one. I was scolded by my mom for my bad manners, but never did forget this short (if superficial) foray into interfaith discussion. Far be it from me to engage in a comparison of the worth of the two holidays. But there is something in particular about Hanukkah that is universally applicable. I’m thinking not of the importance of asserting one’s minority identity in the face of majority encroachment, nor of the ecological implications of forcing a little oil to go a long way. Neither am I thinking of the desire for miracles that can sustain us in difficult times. I’m thinking, rather, of something that might seem a little more mundane, and that is the fact that this holiday is drawn out over eight days. To me this symbolizes the idea that we can improve our lives as we go.
No matter what one’s religion, the holiday season is exhausting. But the benefit of an eight-day holiday is that, as a parent, I don’t have to be perfectly organized. I can have a gift or two at the ready on the first night, pick up another the next day, add a decoration the day after and perfect my latke frying the day after that.