Jewish World Review Dec. 29, 2000 / 3 Teves, 5761

The Chanukah blackout


By Susan R. Weintrob

http://www.jewishworldreview.com -- DURING DINNER the other night, my family reminisced about the different Chanukahs over the years. My daughter immediately reminded us of her favorite Chanukah, the one which occurred during a major snow and ice storm about 10 years ago.

On the 7th night of Chanukah, the electricity went off in our Indiana town. The temperatures were near zero, the ice hung from the electric wires and the night was long and dark.

As the temperatures in the house went down, we lit a fire in our fireplace, and my children, then 8 and 10, brought out the sleeping bags. I cooked a simple dinner over the fire and then we lit the menorah. Our neighborhood, plunged into darkness, made the oil in the menorah burn brighter than usual.

We sang songs and played games and took turns keeping the fire going. All of us, including the cat and dog, were content. The next morning, my husband and I were a bit sore from sleeping on the floor, but the kids thought it was a great family adventure. The outdoors was beautiful and we rather enjoyed the slowness of the day. We called neighbors to make sure they were all right, but we all stayed at home.

During the late afternoon, the electricity went back on. We rushed to turn on the computer, the television, and the stove. The normal routine hummed in our house.

Then that evening, as we lit the menorah for the last time, the oil seemed dimmer. My daughter sighed. "It was so much more fun with the electricity off."

As I spoke with my friends about the blackout, most of them complained about all the inconveniences, including being with their children the entire day.

"There was NOTHING to do," parents and children all said. "We had to be with each other ALL day," everyone complained.

I had felt the opposite -- that the inconveniences were not intensified but rather were gone -- the phone calls, the shopping, the chores, the interruptions -- and here was an island of time that serendipitously had come our way.

I recently read a book, Turbulent Souls by Stephen Dubner, who was raised as a Catholic by parents who had converted from Judaism. He rediscovered his Jewish roots and returned to Judaism.

In this very interesting memoir, he writes about the Jewish family. "Judaism is a tradition that is really based in the home. Unlike Catholicism, where most pious acts are performed in the church, many of the highest acts of reverence are performed in the home. And I guess I feel that if you don't have a Jewish home then it's harder to be Jewish in a significant way."

The family has a special place in Jewish ritual for good reason. The time spent at home for lighting Shabbes or Chanukah candles, for cleaning the house before Pesach or for building sukkahs forces us to spend time together. Too often, our increasingly busy schedules take precedence. Work hours, meetings,shopping and socializing fill our days. Where are the extra hours that are needed for our families?

Dubner's words about families apply in a special way to Chanukah, the most visible of Jewish holidays in a Christian country. The acts of "reverence" that he writes about are not the presents, the trips nor the parties. Chanukah is not a competition with Christmas. The fight to preserve Judaism parallels our own generation's fight agains assimilation and increasingly consumerism.

The time we spend with our children outweighs any gift or trip After the gifts are out grown or thrown away, the memories of a childhood and family that are filled with hours spent with parents, siblings and extended family become the foundation for our children's own parenting style.

These hours may be spent on a luxurious trip but they may also be spent together in simple moments -- cooking dinner, shoveling the snow or reading. The seemingly simple moments become the source of strength for future days.

That Chanukah night in Indiana almost a decade ago, sitting with my children in the near dark, the room lit only by the menorah and ourfireplace, turned out to be one of the more memorable nights of Chanukah that we have ever spent. There were no presents, no movies -- we sang songs, told stories and just enjoyed each other's company.

One Chanukah debate among the rabbis centered on where the menorah should be placed when it is lit --- should the menorah's light should shine outside the home or inside.

The final agreement was that under normal circumstances, the menorah should be near a window so that all on the outside could see its light. During times of trouble, the light would be placed so that it would shine on the inside, hidden from the outside world.

So in this era, where should we place our menorah? What kind of times do we live in? To paraphrase Charles Dickens, Jews live in the best of times and the worst of times. Today in America, we have the most freedom that Jews have ever had in the world, yet we are an uneasy people.

Assimilation and divisiveness plague us here and we are anxious about terrorism in Israel.

Therefore, the menorah should be placed so that the lights shine in and shine out. The lights should shine out so that the world sees our strength and determination to continue as a people. They should also shine inside our homes, reminding us that the victory of Chanukah was less a military one than a spiritual one. The fight against values that place the Jewish family and spirituality at the bottom of our priorities is as important now as it was in the time of the Maccabees. The struggle is no less difficult now, but it is one worth fighting.

May the Chanukah lights shine on you and your family this year and all the years to come.


JWR contributor Susan Rubin Weintrob is a writer and educator living in Teaneck, N.J. You may contact her by clicking here.

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© 2000, Susan Rubin Weintrob