Lights, moves around the western world’s solar calendar because it is based on the Hebrew calendar, which is an ancient, shorter, and lunar one. The years may be briefer, but since there are now 5,780 of them, there is plenty of reason to celebrate: Make of it what you will, a feeling of pride ensues if you accept thousands of years as part of your personal heritage.
Hanukkah began at sunset on Sunday. Perhaps because of its unusual proximity to Christmas this year, Hanukkah seemed to be in the air much more than usual. At a recent concert, for example, the trombonist offered the solemn music of Hebrew prayer. A sentimental feeling came over me on hearing the melody my mother used when blessing the candles on Friday nights. Think of it: That melody may be thousands of years old.
My family didn’t make a big deal of Hanukkah, actually. My grandfather Jacob Spivack, my mother’s father, used to give my brother and me a little “gelt” — money — and that was that, although it felt special enough for us.
Attempts to rival Christmas by giving Jewish children a gift for each of Hanukkah’s eight days were unheard of when I was growing up. I personally feel that trying to play keep-up-with-the-Joneses, when it comes to seasonal gift giving, is a mistake: Does the Hanukkah celebration not stand on its own merits? I can’t help but try to remind others that basic Jewish tenets are based on tolerance and justice; that the current State of Israel was founded in reaction to the Holocaust, and that gifts are traditionally intended for the poor.
I learned to celebrate Christmas in the early 1960s when I became engaged to marry the late Ev Rattray. I will always remember that first holiday, when I gathered boxes and wrappings in a quiet bedroom and set about putting it all together as a guest in the house of the formidable woman who was to become my mother-in-law. Since then, I have celebrated both. Christmas was imminent at deadline time this year, and I can assure you I summoned up every ounce of latent creativity to make it as merry as possible, wrapping with gusto. As for Hanukkah, my mother’s “hanukkiah,” an old brass menorah with two Lions of Judah, was at the ready.
The Jewish New Year of 5780 began at sunset on Sept. 29 . . . which happened to be my birthday. I wasn’t anywhere near a Judaic celebration at the time, but the family did gather together at a Japanese restaurant to celebrate me, and that was as good as it gets.