Spiritual perspectives
In the Spirit of Chanukah

Copyright © 2008
Gallup Independent
By Diane J. Schmidt
Special to the Independent

I can still hear my mother’s gentle grumbling as she began the annual hunt through her untidy kitchen drawers for a stray book of matches. Then she hummed holiday tunes as she successfully produced the Chanukah candles and arranged the menorah (candlestick holder) near the kitchen sink, where she placed a ragged patch of aluminum foil under it to catch the colored candles when they melted into pools of blue and green and gold. Each night for the next eight nights she would lead me and my two sisters in the prayers for the lighting of the Chanukah candles — and then the songs — I’d like to be a Maccabee, so strong and brave and bold, and FIGHT to win every fight I’m in, though I am only 5 years old.

I would stand there alone in the darkness of the transformed kitchen, watching the candles burning low, one for each night, they shed a sweet light, to remind us of days long ago — to wait and see if the one I’d bet on lasted the longest, and in doing so, the mysterious candlelight imprinted itself on my soul. Forty years later this deeper meaning would become more fully articulated.

The eight nights of Chanukah commemorate the spiritual story of how even though there was only enough holy oil to keep the temple flame lit for one night during a siege 2,400 years ago, the oil miraculously lasted for eight full nights.

This concentration of effects, that less can do more, certainly seems timely. Nowadays it actually takes 44 candles to celebrate this exuberant Jewish holiday, also called the Festival of Lights. One first kindles the service candle which then lights one candle the first night, two the second, and so on through the eighth night. As each night the number of candles increases, so too does the light in our hearts strengthen and grow brighter as we face into the dark of winter.

Chanukah falls every year on exactly the same day of the lunar Jewish calendar, so the date seems to change in our Gregorian calendar. This year Chanukah begins on December 22, so the first candle is lit after sundown on December 21. It just so happens to occur near Christmas but actually Chanukah is not related to Christmas or to the winter solstice.

In a December not so very long ago my sisters and I gathered, as we had not done for almost thirty years, at the hospital bedside of my mother to sing the songs and light the candles. On the eighth day my sisters went to a concert. It was afternoon and already the gloom was settling into the plump pink and grey clouds. As darkness fell I lit the candles and said the prayers. My mother woke up in the darkened room and saw the lit menorah and the eight candles burning. Her eyes grew bright and her face lit up against the pillow. She said, “I see the spirit of Chanukah. Do you see it? It’s right here.” She reached up with both hands in front of her and lovingly patted something that seemed to be a bird in the air before her.

“What exactly do you see?” I pressed.

My mother fell silent. Then she replied finally, with an uncharacteristic brilliance that illuminated her vision and would communicate to her child, “Oh. It’s just my own little idea, that the spirit of Chanukah comes to those who celebrate all eight nights.”

“Oh, that would make a lovely ending to a children’s book,” I replied. I added with some pedantry, in an awkward desire to be helpful, “What you see is probably the Shekinah, the Jewish spirit. Hold to that, what you are seeing, it is protecting you; picture it when you need it.”
Then she replied, haltingly, “You mean the white bird, and not the circling black ravens that come after?” By the next morning she was gone.

At the service I spoke to her rabbi, Rabbi Serotta of Lakeside Congregation, who said that in the Jewish tradition it is written that angels come to comfort you and to reduce your fears when you are dying. And he said the Shekinah is the feminine aspect of God, the part of God that comes closest to us. Late that afternoon as our family gathered to pay their final respects, a squadron of blackbirds high above us spiraled upwards in a final salute, and then a rainbow unaccountably appeared in the clouded winter sky.

This is adapted from Diane J. Schmidt’s story “The Spirit of Chanukah.” Schmidt is a writer and photojournalist in New Mexico who also facilitates creativity workshops. She was raised in the traditions of Reform Judaism and is an admirer of all things spiritually resonant. She can be contacted at dianeschmidt22@hotmail.com

This column is written by area residents, representing different faith communities, who share their ideas about bringing a spiritual perspective into our daily lives and community issues. For information about contributing a guest column, contact Elizabeth Hardin-Burrola at The Independent: (505) 863-6811 ext. 218 or lizreligion01@yahoo.com.