Hanukkah is arriving on our doorstep, and this year feels different. Before explaining why, a recap of the holiday’s basic elements might be helpful. Often, when Hanukkah is mentioned, people gravitate toward the idea of presents. You might hear a common refrain of: “Wow! You get presents for eight days!”
In our family, this is not the case, and presents are a minor part of the holiday. We keep presents very small, except for the grandchildren, and even they don’t receive eight days’ worth. It is the history and traditions surrounding the holiday that bring the most meaning. Experiencing the rituals is what makes Hanukkah memorable.
Starting with the history, in 190 B.C., the Greeks occupied Israel and required that Jews help finance their military through taxes and house their soldiers in their homes. They placed a Zeus statue in the Temple courtyard and banished Jewish observances.
When the Greeks demanded that Jews sacrifice a pig to Greek idols, a group of Hasmoneans led by Mattathias said, “Enough,” and a war ensued. Mattathias led the Maccabees in guerrilla warfare against a much better-equipped Greek army. He was killed, but his son, Judah, took over and led the troops. Against all odds, but through guile and hit-and-run tactics, the Maccabees and their 12,000 men defeated the larger 50,000-man Greek army. It took five years.
According to the Talmud, the Jews then entered the Temple and found a small flask of oil to light a flame. The miracle was that the flame lasted eight days, which explains the holiday’s eight-day observance and why we light eight candles. We use a ninth candle, called the “shamash,” to light the other candles.
What makes Hanukkah special in our family is the range of traditions we bring to the holiday. These include:
—Making latkes: Latkes, which are fried potato pancakes made with shredded potatoes and onions, are guaranteed to fill your home with a smell that lasts a week — unless, of course, you buy them. Latkes are often accompanied by apple sauce and sour cream.
—Playing Dreidel: A betting game is played by spinning a four-sided “dreidel.” Each side features a Hebrew letter to remind us that “A big miracle happened there,” with the first letter of each significant word displayed. Players settle their bets based on how their dreidel lands. Pennies and nickels, or better yet, chocolate coins called “gelt,” are used for betting. We only use chocolate.
—Singing: Blessings are said, and songs are sung during the candle lighting. Songs can be as simple as “I Have a Little Dreidel” or as complicated as Hebrew songs sung in rounds. We also add a contemporary moment and sing Peter, Paul and Mary’s “Light One Candle.”
As with most meaningful holidays, Hanukkah is best celebrated by making it personal. For me, it begins by remembering my father, who died exactly one week before Hanukkah, 44 years ago. His presence still looms large in our lives, through stories and words.
About words, though, I am reminded of my dad’s concern that antisemitism was still here, but dormant. We grew up in a community that had a significant number of Holocaust survivors, and so its history and horror felt very real. It was not something we read in a history book.
Now, in 2025, antisemitism is clearly not dormant. I wish my father weren’t right. The Anti-Defamation League reported 9,300 incidents of assault, harassment and vandalism in 2024. Add the FBI data, where, despite Jews comprising only 2 percent of the population, anti-Jewish hate crimes made up nearly 70 percent of all religion-based hate crimes in 2024. Add to this the prevalence of antisemitism on college campuses, and the picture that emerges is dark and extensive.
In the last few years, many within the Jewish community have taken to wearing Jewish Stars and other jewelry that proclaim their identity. This Hanukkah, we will once again display our menorahs in the window so that passers-by can note our Jewish home. We will engage our children to identify how we can strengthen and give purpose to the Jewish community.
I live hopeful that, come the 45th year of my dad’s passing, I don’t hear my dad’s words about antisemitism in the same way. I hope we will have made progress. On this Hanukkah, I will be thinking about what we need to do to ensure the candles still shine. Let this be the year that, like Mattathias, we say, “Enough.”