V’etzarcha v’etencha livrit am, l’or goyim
And I have created you, and I have given you to be a people of covenant, a light to the nations.
Isaiah 42:6
Chanukah is is called chag haneirot - the festival of lights. We celebrate not only the story of the miracle of the oil that lasted long enough to rededicate the Temple in Jerusalem, but the light we bring into the world. Hillel and Shammai, the ancient sages, argued over whether one should light eight lights on the first night of Chanukah and then diminish by one each day, or to start with one, and add a light each night until we reached eight. The debate was whether we acknowledge the days getting shorter and go with the flow of nature, or resist by bringing our own light to brighten the dark nights. Bringing light into the world won, and we therefore increase the glow of our menorot as Chanukah progresses.
We are commanded to be an or l’goyim - a light to the other nations. When we were an oppressed and downtrodden minority, this seemed an ironic injunction. We sought to fulfill it by being the brightest and smartest. Now that we have our own nation, we struggle to both be a normal country, like any other, and to be the exemplar of Judaism. Obviously, we are not seen so by a large portion of the world’s population. In the United States, most children know about Judaism, because they know what a Bar or Bat Mitzvah is. It’s that big party that Jews through for their children, with lots of food, fancy clothes, dancing and entertainment, and they expect everyone to wear a sweatshirt about it the next week in school. Needless to say, these are not the ways that we would want to be a shining beacon.
Early in this month, there has been an attempt to make a national moment of donation - “Giving Tuesday”, to follow the Retail Holy Week of Black Friday, Small Business Saturday, and CyberMonday. The idea is that after we have spent so much on our loved ones and ourselves, we might feel better if we took a moment to also remember those less fortunate. Certainly, we too have become trapped in the excesses of the season. We elevate the minor holiday of Chanukah until it is the most famous of Jewish holidays; certainly the favorite of our children. Perhaps this cold war of gift giving we engage in with Christmas might be better fought as a duel of donations. My alma mater, approaching its recent yearly rivalry of the Game, challenged its alumni to beat Harvard not on the football field (where we did not), but on the giving side - to see which college could raise the most money for its annual campaigns. We, too, if we want to be a light to the nations, at this festival of lights, should think again about the fires we fuel.
Let us encourage the mitzvot that we do for others. Each time, at this season, our congregation has adopted families at King’s Daughters’ school in Plainfield, helping those who would otherwise not be able to give to each other at Christmas to receive a small amount of holiday cheer. I know of several members of our congregation who make a point of volunteering at soup kitchens, hospitals, and other necessary services in order to let Christians celebrate their holiday. Let this be the light that we celebrate on this festival; let this be the light we shine to others, be what they know about Jews and Judaism.
Let us also consider this as a time to give what is needed to others. As we receive new clothing, let us donate what we no longer need. Let us buy a little extra at the grocery store to give to others who may be hungry. Let us think about what we spend on gifts, and take a night to chose places to donate some percentage of those funds.
As we light our Chanukah candles this year, let us think about more than the light the menorah shines in our homes, but also the light we can shine all over.
