Chanukah beloved chaviva hi ad meod (Maimonides).
Ill come clean right at the outset: I love Christmas time in New York. Im a total sucker for the whole show.
New York is transformed into a true winter wonderland. Sometimes when I am walking the cobbled Central Park West in the cold crisp fir-scented air, with the beckoning loveliness of dimly lit or blanketed-in-white Central Park on my left, the wooden sleds gliding, carrying and echoing the laughing thrill of children . . . when I am passing the outdoor wooden huts at the Columbus Circle huts displaying local art, crafts, food and jewelry? . . . when I am entering shoppes or coffee places engulfed in holiday cheer with renditions of Let it Snow . . . when I am observing the gorgeous, creative and whimsical department store windows depicting fairytalesque villages, or classic childrens storybooks come to life, or dreamy yet sophisticated depictions of the four seasons . . . when the huge suspended snow flake on 57th street sparkles, I feel like I am inside a magical glass domed snow globe. Sometimes the atmosphere is so festive and holidayish that I can practically see the sugar plum fairies from The Nutcracker gracefully pirouetting, hovering over all of us dashing about in our hustle and bustle, walking the city.
Then there is the glassy sleek ice skating rink in Bryant Park, with the beautiful old carousel at her center. Whirs of figure eights are spinning, or couples just gliding along. Little kids could be seen falling and putting the effort of standing up again, shakily catching balance, waving their wet mittens in the air. And of course, classic Rockefeller center with the illuminated angels and the round rink at her heart.
Dyker Height with its over the top excess, megawatts of lights and decor, replete with armies of toy soldiers, miniature villages, hundreds of snowmen its like a Gingerbreadland come to life. A fabled holiday theme park is just a short drive away, right here in Brooklyn.
It wasnt always so that I appreciated the fairytale quality of Christmas time in New York. When I was 19, a chasidishe friend of mine suggested we meet up in Manhattan to look at the store windows. Growing up in a sheltered Jerusalem and Denver home, I had no idea what she was talking about.
She went on to explain that every year her mother would take her and her sisters in from Brooklyn to the city to get a touch of all the holiday cheer, the famous windows, Santas jingling bells and all the other hoopla. I was shocked. To me it sounded completely goyish. And I declined.
A year later I went to Stern College and, as an adult, discovered this for myself. At first I had mixed feelings, but then I quickly grew to appreciate its festive and overall neutral winter wonderland quality. Yet I still felt (and still do) that for Jewish educational reasons I would not make a show out of it to young children.
And that was that. I grew to expect winter in New York to be an expression of the holiday season. But as much as I appreciate its cheer and wonder, I must admit as a Jewish woman who lived in Israel for many years there is no time like now that I appreciate Israel more. The Christmas craze has gotten inescapable. Wherever you go you are bombarded by it. They stopped playing regular music on the radio weeks ago. Everywhere you glance is Christmas tinsel or worse, an excess of Christmas decor. Whatever you are doing or whatever you are drinking, wherever you are going Christmas is shoved down your throat. It is a full blown assault.
Now I know Christmas has become a winter holiday, mainly about good will, cheer, believing in wishes coming true and the power of the human spirit, as well as a generosity of spirit, expressed by gift exchanges and charity. But still. As positive and whimsical as it is, it is a bit overdone, dont you think?
When you think of the unadorned, modest candles of Chanukah, its almost like a study in contrasts. Not that there is a point to comparing. One is totally separate from the other. But these two holidays are both celebrated in the winter, and often they do coincide.
It is precisely this simplicity and authenticity of the light of a matchstick, of the flame of one candle, that touches me. We light one candle at a time, and this simple act is what grows into a garland of light that envelops and bathes our home, our neighborhood or, in Jerusalem, our city, in this aura of light.
It is soaking up this true fire of faith, one flame at a time, one wick at a time, that I miss so. It is the light of the candles as the light of the moon wanes that I love. It is the power of that one flame, that one candle, that lights up an entire room that is Chanukah. It is families huddled together at twilight, in the act of lighting, not just watching, or having Con Ed light it for you, but creating a source of light, that is Chanukah.
And when you create that fire, you are creating a bond with every other Jew who is lighting his candle at the very same time all over the world, linking you back to the original Maccabee family that lit its wick in the golden menorah of the Temple. It is the intimacy of such kindlings and lights that suffuse Chanukah with its radiance, with the spark of its holiday soul. As Maimonides says, Chanukah is chaviva hi ad meod, her light is very beloved.
Wishing you all a joyous and wondrous Chanukah!
