A CHANUKAH STORY
The Courage to Be Different: A Message for this Season Dear Friends, It was the winter of 1952. I was six years old, and my mother took me on a walk around our neighborhood in downtown Brooklyn, New York City. The stores were all lit up for the Christian holiday, and in each store window, there was a Christmas tree prominently displayed. "Mommy," I asked, "Can we also have a Christmas tree in our house?" My mother was surprised by my request, and she responded: "As you know, Jeffrey, we are Jewish, and Jewish people do not celebrate Christmas. It is not our holiday." The next night, I was in for a surprise. My parents called me and my younger sister into the living room and pointed to a small candelabra. "This is a Chanukah Menorah," my father explained, "and tonight begins the celebration of the Jewish holiday of Chanukah." He gave a brief summary of the Chanukah story, and then lit the first candle. Afterwards, we were given presents. To my great delight, this ceremony was repeated for the next seven nights, including the giving of the presents! This was my first Chanukah celebration. When I grew older, I was told that my question concerning the Christmas Tree had inspired my parents to begin the celebration of Chanukah in our own home. Until then, my parents had never explained to us that we had Jewish holidays of our own. Both of my parents were progressive social activists who were involved in a variety of political and social causes for the betterment of society, and the conversation in our home centered on the evils of prejudice and the importance of recognizing that all human beings are basically the same, despite our different skin color or religions. My parents did not consider themselves "religious," although they often spoke about human brotherhood and how we are all "God's children." | |
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