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The image of Chanukah that will haunt me for the rest of my life is of Poland in December 1995 at a commemoration Louise and I helped organize to mark the 50th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz. Our first evening there was also the last night of Chanukah and, on an impulse, we decided to take our Chanukiahs to the gates of the camp – the site of the infamous “Arbeit Macht Frei.” Right there, juxtaposed against the barbed wire, we lit our candles. It was a mesmerizing image, the light against the darkness. We could barely breathe. And then, suddenly, 10 seconds of the lightest possible rain – as a blessing from those we had come to remember.
That to me was the stuff of rededication. But we don’t anything remotely that dramatic to stimulate our rededication at the time of this festival. The Chanukah story itself is sufficient. And if we need more of a challenge, what better than that posed by Rabbi Levine at the dedication of our new shul – that unique challenge facing American Jews: keeping our people alive and vibrant despite the absence of glaring and overt anti-Semitism.
Let me suggest that, as families and as individuals, we do some rededicating of our own at Chaukah this year – keeping in mind that this festival is not just for kids. Perhaps a commitment to light the Shabbat candles together each week. Perhaps a commitment to take on one new challenge of adult Jewish learning, either independently or together with others in our flourishing adult education program. Perhaps a commitment to place a tzedakah box on the kitchen table, to fill it each evening with our loose change, to contribute to it more plentifully before Shabbat and on the festivals, and then to decide together with loved ones next Chanukah where our gifts can best contribute to “Tikkun Olam.”
I wish you all a joyous festival, and hope to see many of you at our gala Chanukah service and party on Friday evening December 7.
B’Shalom,
Jim
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