This essay was inspired by the B- Mitzvah students of the Year of Living Jewishly  

When I teach young people the story of Chanukah, I am often met with expressions of disbelief regarding the miracles popularly ascribed to this holiday.  

After brief conversation, confessions emerge about the fact that they are persistently expected to celebrate something they can’t possibly believe in; a holiday based on an accounting they cannot wrap their minds around. 

Many express the wish that Chanukah made more sense, that the primary meaning of Chanukah wasn’t reduced to the miracle of the oil lasting eight days, a notion they tell me is akin to believing in Santa Claus.  

That’s when I present them with my teaching of the miracles, an explanation that both captures their imagination and gives plausibility to a holiday they can look forward to celebrating even when they reach adulthood and have children of their own. 

 First, the victory celebration. The victors in the story of Chanukah were those that upheld the traditional Temple-based values, along with the ethics and morals of the teachings of Moses and the Sages. There was an opportunity at that time for the victorious side, more traditionally observing Jews, to easily create a holiday of triumph, which would perpetually maintain the losers- also Jewish- in a less positive light. Instead, they chose to celebrate a Festival of Light, a call to the world and their fellow Jews, “to make light not war” would henceforth be the goal of their victory. 

It’s a very powerful statement. Instead of focusing on the nuance of triumph and permitting it to only a small group of tradition-abiding Jews, they opened up the celebration of light to everyone, equally.  

It’s a proud moment in our history in which lighting up the darkness was more important than shutting out those with whom one doesn’t agree. Light illuminates the way for everyone, ignoring politics, gender, race, creed, or denomination. This the first miracle of Chanukah. 

The second miracle, the one about the oil, needs to be reimagined. It holds no veracity for our young people, and the persistence of the narrative promotes a shallow understanding of Jewish life that fails entirely to grip mature imaginations, making Chanukah essentially a children’s celebration, only so long as they continue to believe the fable.  
 
Here’s how I reframe the miracle.  

In the days of old, at this time of year, during the restoration of the Temple after the war, a decision had to be made about lighting the seven branched candelabra. Observance of the religious requirement was that the light must burn from dusk to dawn. However, with such a short supply of pure oil, they would consume the one day’s supply of oil in one day, and there would be none left for the rest of the days of the Temple’s rededication celebration. 

Or they could modify the religious requirements and burn 1/8 of the oil on hand each day until a new supply was available, meaning that the amount of time in which the menorah was lit would be significantly less, but at least they would have it lit every day. Our ancestors were wise, and it’s very likely that they modified the performance of the commandment so that it suited their need to mark and celebrate days of light after so much spiritual darkness, especially as the winter solstice approached.   

This immediate and obvious remaking of the relationship between law and people is what the conflict of Chanukah was about in the first place – an irredeemably rigid interpretation of law and an equally inflexible acceptance of modern ideas regardless of how relevant or necessary. Is it possible that this innovation may actually have been the most loyal act of maintaining tradition. 

The miracle of light as an antidote to triumphalism, and the miracle of abstracting the law so that it remains relevant and purposeful: both of these are worth celebrating. 

Chanukah is a celebration of light, family, and food related events. It’s meant to be simple, and it is also an opportunity to promote what we call “eight nights of giving”, whether one gives to charity, to various members of family, chooses a mitzvah project across eight nights or eight projects. Chanukah is a concise and specific opportunity at the darkest time of year to bring light to so many. One does not have to perform grand acts of charity or undertake  complicated campaigns to make a difference; even committing to call one family member each night, or write a card or note, or think of someone who could use some love… there are many ways to turn Chanukah into eight nights of giving.