As Hanukkah was approaching, a woman asked me: “Rabbi, if Hanukkah is the festival of lights, why don’t Jewish families decorate their homes with lights?”
Then she added, with a longing in her voice, “I love those lights.”
I, too, love the light decorations during the darkest time of the year, near the Winter Solstice. But the reason most Jews don’t participate in widespread seasonal light-decorating is because these lights are commonly seen as “Christmas lights,” closely associated with Christmas traditions. Jews for centuries cared to distinguish Jewish practice from that of surroundings culture, especially Christian-majority cultures. Not decorating with lights became one way of maintaining that distinction.
Yet both Hanukkah and Christmas are relatively new when compared to the ancient, earth-centered pagan traditions that preceded our Bible. Long before Judaism or Christianity, people used lights and evergreens during the cold, dark winter months to bring hope, courage, and the reassurance that the light would return. I like to look at the common roots underlying our traditions and to ask how they meet universal human needs. After all, the origins of both the Menorah (hanukiyah) and the Christmas tree draw from older pagan practices.
Much of what we think of as distinctly Jewish or Christian is, in fact, borrowed and transformed from earlier civilizations.
The historical Hanukkah story is about the courage of the Maccabees, who fought to reclaim their religious freedom after Antiochus, King of Syria, outlawed Jewish practice. For centuries before that, the land had been a place where diverse traditions coexisted. But Antiochus declared that only one belief system was acceptable, imposing strict limits on how people could worship. The Maccabees rebelled against this repression.
They fought for diversity, and for freedom of religion.
In many ways, we are still fighting this same battle today. The circumstances have changed, but the principle remains the same.
As we light the multicolored candles of Hanukkah, illuminate our homes for Christmas, or celebrate Kwanzaa, may we remember the importance of diversity and inclusivity. Perhaps this year, instead of keeping each holiday of light strictly separate, we can consciously celebrate our shared human longing for warmth, connection, and meaning in this holidays season. Each tradition is rich and beautiful in its own way, and we can honor them all while joyfully sharing in one another’s celebrations.
Bringing our traditions into a broader celebration of difference may enrich us more than holding our traditions in isolation. Our collective intention will help the light of hope, diversity and freedom to shine even brighter.
I invite you to join me in praying for greater openness, for the courage to embrace universality while honoring the beauty of our particular paths. May we raise our voice and our lights on behalf of all people, so that we may live freely and openly with our differences as one human tribe.