Light
It’s night 5 of Chanukah and the streets all over our neighborhood are transformed with bright lights of red, green, blue, white, silver and gold as we approach Christmas. While Chanukah and Christmas are totally unrelated holidays, that just happen to share the same month (and occasionally overlap) I do see the correlation of cheer, gathering, gift giving and the celebration of miracles.
Since my sons were old enough to crawl, they, like every single child I have ever known, are captivated by the beauty and wonder that surrounds the holiday of Christmas. Every year we go to my parent’s house to help them decorate their Christmas tree and admire their décor of garland weaving its way down their staircase railing, the knitted stockings (one for each grandchild) hung next to their brick fireplace, and rows of vibrant red poinsettias that outline the entrance to their home. Immediately I am transported back to my childhood. The sounds of Deck the Halls and Jingle Bell Rock play in the background as we open boxes upon boxes of ornaments that have been in my family for decades. Conner always hangs the one that has a framed photo of me as a little girl standing next to a wreath. Hudson hangs the glittered snowflakes that Lori and I made in preschool. Joe hangs the heavier ornaments of the three kings up top on the sturdier branches, and I hang the delicate turtle doves that I once gifted to my sister and find a special spot for each year since she moved away. The smell of pine engulfs the room and my heart swells with nostalgia. There really is no place like home for the holidays.
The boys bringing their love and light to Pop and Gogo’s house. Ready for a fun morning of Christmas tree trimming.
Our Jewish household, just blocks away from my childhood home, is filled with joy and illuminous light as we gather to celebrate the miracle of light—Chanukah. Chanukah is one of the lesser Jewish holidays but to me it is one of the most beautiful (especially now that I am a parent). Chanukah is the celebration of the rededication of the Temple in Jerusalem. As the story goes, a small quantity of oil was used to light the Temple's menorah and it miraculously lasted for eight days, when it should have only lasted one. The boys take delight in helping me decorate our house for our holiday. We take out their handmade menorahs from their preschool days, as well as painted wooden dreidels, placemats with their little hand prints in the shape of menorahs and tiny gold bags of chocolate gelt. We gather in the kitchen to make latkes and blue-sprinkled sugar cookies and the house is filled with songs of both Chanukah and Christmas. The Mensch on the Bench makes his debut on the first night of Chanukah (actually we have two of them-one for each boy). Their arrival kicks off the eight “crazy nights” that are to follow. We light the menorahs each night as a family and recite the same prayers that have been said for over two thousand years. We then hold hands and sing Maoz Tzur and dance around in a circle together, even our Goldendoodle Gator joins in on the fun.
After the gifts are exchanged (yes with the dog too) and the children are tucked into their beds, I take some quiet time to reflect and enjoy the gentle glow of the candles until they burn out.
Light is a beautiful thing. It is defined as a form of electromagnetic radiation with a wavelength which can be detected by the human eye. When it comes to the holiday of Chanukah, I like to think of light in terms of what cannot be seen by the human eye, but rather that flame that exists inside each of us and can only be felt by the human spirit.
About a year ago I went to Milam’s Market for groceries and as I was putting the bags of food into the trunk of my car, I saw a homeless man standing on the corner of the strip mall watching. We locked eyes and he slowly approached me. To be honest, sometimes when approached by strangers I can feel threatened and nervous but this particular time I felt quite the opposite. I felt calm and welcomed the man over. I assumed he was about to ask for money or food. Instead, he asked, “can I help you with your groceries?”
I recall being a bit thrown off by this. I was pleasantly surprised by his offer to help but declined. He then told me he was hungry and asked if I had any food I could spare. I reached into my car and grabbed a bag that had some potato chips, crackers and bread in it and placed it in his hands. He looked surprised that I was willing to give him the whole bag. He thanked me for my generosity, I locked eyes with him once more and said, “no, thank YOU for offering to help”.
He walked away and I drove away. On my drive home I couldn’t shake the feeling that both of our spirits were lifted from our 3-minute interaction with each other. I felt grateful for being able to help him and glad that I hadn’t dismissed him. And in my mind, I imagine he felt grateful for our interaction too. Grateful for being seen. For being shown appreciation and for being treated with respect—in addition to the bag of food.
How many times do we walk the other way? Intentionally ignore someone? Not look someone in the eyes? Not ask the important question? Choose the safer path to avoid conflict or discomfort? How often do we block another person’s light from coming in? And how often do we hold back our own light and retract from helping others? Why are we all so closed off from one another when we are all made up of the same star dust and light?
This encounter got me thinking about our busy lives. We spend far too much time with our heads down looking at our phones and with our minds in the clouds, cluttered with nonsense. Too much time running errands. Too many to-do lists that seem to be never-ending (especially during the holidays). These habits, along with many new ones brought on by COVID that force us to disconnect and stay apart from one another, don’t define who we are and why we are here. Like my homegirl Oprah says, “We are all spiritual beings, having a human experience” and I say, we shouldn’t spread ourselves so thin that we deny ourselves and others of our radiant light.
Let’s put our focus on that this holiday season- the gift of LIGHT. Let’s make more of a conscious effort to let our inner light shine so bright that we can delight in being the Shamash to others. The Shamash is the candle in the menorah that we use to light all eight candles with each night.
Little ways of sharing your light! In the photos above from left to right: I went on a walk in my neighborhood this week and saw these amazing light-up hippos for the holidays and instantly I felt joyful. The next photo is of my son Conner making holiday cards for our elderly neighbors who have been mostly cooped up inside their houses these past 10 months. We felt like they might enjoy getting some mail from us this time of year. The 3rd photo is of a letter I received in the mail just last week from my mom’s cousin Karen in upstate NY who truly is a constant Shamash in my life. She is always finding special keepsakes- like letters written by my mom and photos of her- and is kind enough to pass them along to my sister and me. Karen never forgets a birthday, holiday or anniversary for me, Joe, our two boys and for Lori and her family too! Her light shines so bright and we are all so grateful for her! The last photo on the far right is of my friend/neighbor’s front porch. I have been so touched by seeing so many in our neighborhood leaving snacks, sweets and cool drinks out for our amazing postal workers and waste management crews this holiday season.
We can all be the Shamash and to many—there is no limit, no rules, no guidelines. We can give in ways that are tangible like donating toys, food, clothes or money to those in need. Or in ways that are more meaningful, like showing up for someone who is struggling or lonely and in need of companionship, or by simply letting someone ahead of you in line at the store or even just making eye contact and wishing someone a good day. We can show our true selves—our unique light— and take notice of those who fan our flame, wanting us to grow and shine even brighter, encouraging us to burn! And we should return the favor and help ignite the light in others. There is a place at the menorah for everyone.
Bringing light to others feels good on both the giving end and the receiving end—like fire it spreads, like stars in the sky our light prevails, especially on the darkest of nights, and like the miracle of the menorah- the effects of a simple act of kindness lasts longer than one might expect.
Happy holidays to all and to all may there be infectious radiant light.