8 | DECEMBER 8 • 2022 

essay

Bringing Chanukah into Our Homes
T

he mail arrives just as 
my kids get home from 
school, and they’ve 
already eyed the magazine 
they’ve been waiting for: The 
Amazon Gift Guide. Each child 
runs to the crafts drawer to 
find their own 
color marker, 
armed and ready 
to circle every 
item they want 
for Chanukah. 
Within 45 min-
utes, the maga-
zine is returned to 
me, edited and primed for me to 
buy (at least) one of everything. 
Happy Chanukah, Amazon. 
Enjoy my paycheck.
Chanukah is such a special 
holiday. The energy, the excite-
ment, the magic, the stories — 
it’s something everyone looks 
forward to, and not only because 
of the presents. With a little 
intentionality, we can transform 
Chanukah from a holiday of 
receiving gifts to a holiday we 
learn to receive as a gift itself. 
How, you ask? 
It all starts with the latkes. 
Yes, those perfectly delicious 
fried potato pancakes that 
fill our tables and our bellies 
during the holiday season. This 
tasty tradition presents us with 
the opportunity for a teach-
able moment for all who have 
gathered around our table. As 
we savor each oily bite, we are 
reminded of the Holy Temple, 
defiled by the Greeks, and the 
lone pitcher of pure oil that 
remained untouched. That little 
container of oil should have lit 
the menorah for just one day, 
yet miraculously the menorah 
remained lit for eight days! 
As our hungry guests go back 
for seconds, we can frame the 
experience for them: just as the 

miracle of the oil gave hope to 
Jewish people, so, too, the possi-
bility for miracles today should 
inspire hope in all of us. So, 
whether it’s your great-grand-
mother’s recipe or the frozen 
ones from Trader Joe’s that are 
better than we care to admit, 
bring out those latkes, spin your 
dreidels, and let the oil spark 
hope and frame our miraculous 
shared narrative. 
The latkes, though, are not 
enough. 
Without getting entangled 
in a Daylight Savings Time 
discussion, Chanukah always 
falls when the days are shortest, 
and the darkness is all-encom-
passing. In fact, the month 
Kislev, in which Chanukah falls, 
can be understood as “Kis Lo,
” 
“hidden to him,
” implying that 
this is a month where things 
are hidden, due in large part, to 
the darkness. Yet, it’s at this very 
moment of seasonal darkness 
that we are given Chanukah, the 
holiday defined by light. 
We begin Chanukah with one 
little candle, placed in our win-
dow for all to see, and proceed 
to add an additional flame each 
night. We watch as day after day, 
our small light increases until 
our menorahs reach capacity, 
with eight beautiful flames flick-

ering in our window. 
The placement of the meno-
rah is a critical piece of the 
mitzvah called Pirsumai Nisah, 
publicizing the miracle, for 
while we benefit from the light 
growing daily within our homes, 
we, as Jews, always make sure 
to share our unique light with 
others, illuminating the dark-
ness as our flames flicker in the 
window for all to see. For it is 
not just because of my menorah 
or your menorah, rather it is the 
collective participation of the 
Jewish nation that allows us to 
be a light unto the world.
But what about the spiritual 
darkness? 
We live in a very self-centered 
world: iPhone, iPad, iMes-
sage. “I” am is at the center of 
everything we do. It is so easy 
to slip into this mindset over 
Chanukah, too: my wish list, my 
presents, my party … This focus 
on “my needs” is a reflection 
of the spiritual darkness in the 
world, which prevents me from 
seeing those around me.
In our home, we wanted to 
try to reframe the narrative. 
Each night, after lighting the 
menorah and before we began 
that night’s activities, we gave 
each of our five children $1 to 
put in the tzedakah box. By the 

eighth night of Chanukah, we 
had accumulated $40 in charity. 
We gathered to discuss how our 
tzedakah would help the com-
munity and where we should 
make our donation. 
One year, they used the 
money to buy gifts for those less 
fortunate, while another year, 
they decided to hand-deliver 
the $40 to their organization of 
choice, their school. As parents, 
we tried to plant seeds for our 
children so that the concept of 
giving went hand-in-hand with 
receiving. 
This past summer, we saw 
those seeds take root. Our 
6-year-old son opened his first 
business, Solly’s Garbage Can 
Collection Service, where he 
brings our neighbors’ garbage 
cans from the curb to their 
garage. At 50 cents a can, his 
business has become quite 
lucrative! Each week, he proudly 
gathers his earnings and sepa-
rates a 10th of his total to give 
to charity. It’s not easy to give up 
your hard-earned money, but 
just like on Chanukah when he 
saw himself as a giver, for him, 
giving is just what you do when 
you find yourself in a position 
of receiving. Getting presents is 
something we all look forward 
to, and giving should be, too.
This Chanukah, let’s challenge 
ourselves to infuse each day with 
deeper intentionality, turning 
latkes into teachable moments, 
proudly spreading our light and 
striving to be givers. If we suc-
cessfully navigate the darkness 
and ignite the spark within our-
selves, imagine how brightly our 
collective light will shine. 

Erin Stiebel, senior educator for 

Partners Detroit and the director of 

NCSY GIVE, and her husband, David, 

live in Southfield and are the proud par-

ents of the greatest kids in the world.

PURELY COMMENTARY

Erin Stiebel 

