HANUKKAH: Festival of Light

Photo: Wikipedia

I had the privilege of sharing friendship with two wonderful Jewish boys when I was a kid. There were only a handful of Jewish families in my hometown, so it was unusual that these two boys ended up as my best friends for several years.

As a result of those friendships, I became inculcated with the customs of Reformed Judaism from an early age, and grew to an adult having warm feelings and emotional attachments to the traditions of Judaism. I was tempted to say that I didn’t always understand them, but that wouldn’t be true. The parents of my friends were good teachers, so the meaning of traditions was shared as happily as the candy, the matzo, and the gefiltefish. I was a good, little Christian boy at the time, drinking in all the stories and traditions of my own faith. They became melded with those of my Jewish friends, resulting in an appreciation for Judaism which is more than a fascination.

Hanukkah was one of the traditions I inherited from my friends. The story of the Maccabees and their heroic stance against the marauders was as important as the stories of the Crusaders, the Pilgrims, and the followers of Martin Luther. The mystery of the oil that burned in the Temple for eight days, giving light to the defenders of the Jewish holy place when it should have expired on the first day remains for me to this day a part of my spiritual story. I never mastered the dreidel and I never wore a yarmulke until I was an adult. But I did learn some of the words my friends were learning for their Bar Mitzvahs, and some of the Jewish folk songs that were part of their traditions.

Mostly, though, I was absorbed by the Jewish families into a mysterious, wonderful system of mutual respect and generational obligation. I was awed by my friend’s grandfather who lived in his home (like my grandmother lived in ours) because he was an elder, a carrier of the Sacred Word.

When I went off to college I moved easily among the predominantly Jewish students at the college where I (sometimes) studied. I dated a Jewish girl and was confused when she said we couldn’t get serious because it wasn’t allowed. I respected the holiday traditions and honored them with my classmates, even though I was confused by my own spiritual relationship and searching for a new expression of it.

I heard one of the members of the US Congress, a Mormon, say this week that he was sorry at times that he wasn’t Jewish. Commentators have expressed confusion about this comment, but I know exactly what he meant. There have been, and continue to be, times when I feel passion for the relationship Jews have with God. It is so real. Tevka, the main character in Fiddler on the Roof, talks with God like an adult man talks to his cousin. He rages at times, and tells God about how he is disappointed in Him. And he chides Him for making mistakes. That is the relationship I crave with God.

I am confused with Zionism, and wish the Israelis would treat the Palestinians with greater respect. I dislike Jewish mannerisms at times. I don’t like the clannish way in which some Jewish people group together and bad mouth “outsiders.” I am one of them.

But on this Hanukkah, as the first candle is lighted on the Menorah in Jewish households around the world, I light a candle in my heart. My hope is that a light will shine in the darkness of the world and bring Peace to the world…especially in Israel and Palestine, Syria, and the rest of the Middle East.

ברוך אתהה' א לוהינו מלך העולם...
"Blessed are You, LORD, our God, King of the universe..."