My First Hanukkah Candle
Yesterday, I was interviewed by Shelley Neese and Amy Zewe of the Jerusalem Connection. Actually, it would be more accurate to say that I spoke to an old and dear friend and met a new friend. Shelley arranged the interview after she asked me how I was coping with the war. To be honest, I am in the safest place in Israel so on one level, her concern was unfounded.
On a deeper level, I am not dealing well with the war at all. I am a mess. I cry at least five times a day. I went to buy fish for my aquarium yesterday and ended up giving a hug to the young shopkeeper. He had just lost two friends who were serving in Gaza. I think every Israeli is half a step away from tears. I need to give more hugs.
And that is what I spoke to Shelley and Amy about. That is what they wanted to know. It was a remarkable, maybe even historic conversation. Shelley and Amy are devout Christians who love Israel. That is the common denominator for our friendship. We spoke about Israel but they were concerned about me. It was hugely beneficial to me.
This was my first light of Hanukkah; a tiny oil lamp sputtering friendship in a dark and windy night of Jew-hatred. I explained that we were commanded to be happy on Hanukkah. This year, being happy is precisely the most difficult emotion for me to find in my heart. It is the last thing I want to do. But being happy on Hanukkah is not about what I want. It is what God commanded. We are rededicating His desecrated Temple and it is forbidden to serve God in sadness. Once again, the powers of darkness have murdered Jews and once again, the God of Israel is helping us in a war not of our choosing.
I was reminded that after Solomon built the Temple, all of the nations came to him to connect with the God of Israel in Jerusalem. Solomon never had to fight a war. The other nations came because they wanted to connect to peace. The Maccabees had to fight a war, rededicating this temple of peace in fire and blood.
And after the destruction of the Temple, Jews suffered 2,000 years of exile, persecuted by the non-Jews. We were, as Balaam predicted, a nation alone. Even as the Nazis murdered six million Jews in the most barbaric chapter in human history, the world was silent. A few righteous gentiles stood with the Jews but they were anomalies.
Those horrors were reenacted on October 7, and hundreds of thousands took to the streets to cheer the horrific actions of Hamas. The Jews in the US were stunned into silence. Many liberal left-wing Jews who had been critical of Israel woke up as their former allies screamed for their blood. Some liberal Jews doubled down, adopting the horrifying slogan that Hamas atrocities on October 7 “needed to be understood in context.”
I told Shelley and Amy that for the first time in my life, I felt like a Jew. I feel like a tiny flame sputtering in a storm of hatred. I am a Jew hiding in the basement as the drunk Cossacks rage through the shtetl. I am a Jew waiting for the Inquisitor. I am a Jew walking a dark street and hearing the word “kike” yelled out from an alleyway. I am a student at an Ivy League university, afraid to leave my room as keffiyeh-wearing mobs scream for Intifada.
I am a Jew in the Golan, unable to light my menorah, desperately hugging my children after writing a news story about the world condemning Israel for fighting a war to ensure that Hamas will not be able to carry through with its promise to commit many more October 7s until no more Jews remain alive in the world.
But something glorious and unprecedented happened last night. Before the interview, Shelley told me that she was disturbed by the media coverage of the war.
“They questioned every bit of Israel’s narrative in Gaza and took all of Hamas’s statements as facts,” Shelley wrote. “And acted like they were being responsible journalists. So maddening. All I care about hearing from is Israelis. You are the only people we can trust to hear about things!”
Rather than believe the blood libel that Jews were murdering non-Jewish children, many Christians are rejecting the lies. I suddenly realized that for the first time in history, the Jews were not alone. Many Christians are standing with us.
This was my first Hanukkah candle.
Tonight I will light my second candle, meditating on how Israel has come together. Israelis, normally a tough breed, are treating each other with tenderness.
The night has certainly grown darker but as Hanukkah advances, I am sure I will discover more candles. I am sure the light will grow.
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