Guest column by Mendel Liberow: Chanukah brings a message of resilience
“As we light our menorahs at home and as we gather as a community at the Morgan Hill Downtown Amphitheater to light the giant menorah, let’s remember it’s not just a flame.”
By Mendel Liberow
Mendel Liberow
As we prepare for this year’s Chanukah festival at the Morgan Hill Downtown Amphitheater, I’m reminded of what Chanukah looked like last year. The United States was in the midst of a devastating wave of COVID-19 infections, and with vaccines not yet widely available, gathering as usual was out of the question.
But the Jewish people are resilient.
Hundreds joined a drive-in Chanukah event, organized by Chabad South County Jewish Center. Together, we watched the lighting of a giant menorah, sang songs, and enjoyed an immersive fire show — all from the safety of our cars. Yes, we were a bit farther apart, but the joy of Chanukah was undiminished. We also held virtual celebrations for those unable to join, and we delivered treats and craft boxes to families celebrating at home. It wasn’t an easy Chanukah, but it’s far from the most difficult our people have endured.
In 1944 in the Buchenwald concentration camp, observing anything Jewish was grounds for abuse by the Nazi guards. Even praying could bring days of solitary confinement and starvation. Celebrating Chanukah seemed out of the question.
But the Jewish people are resilient.
A group led by Simche Unsdorfer decided the menorah simply had to be lit. So they put a small quantity of pilfered machine oil in a shoe polish container. They lit a wick made from a few threads with matches exchanged for their meager ration of thin soup.
They lit one candle under a bunk. One tiny flame.
Then a guard burst in. “It stinks of oil,” he exclaimed, and began searching for the source. He was steps from the bunk when an air raid siren went off, and the guard ran for his life to shelter while the inmates — as they were required — ran to open ground.
“Outside, in the ice-cold, star-studded night, with the heavy drone of Allied bombers over our heads, I kept on muttering the traditional blessing to the G‑d who wrought miracles for His people in past days and in our own time,” Unsdorfer recalled. “The bombers seemed to be spreading these words over the host of heaven.”
We didn’t always have to hide.
In fact, a key component of Chanukah’s observance is to share the light and publicize the miracle of Chanukah: that a small, outnumbered band of Jews fought off their Syrian-Greek oppressors and were able to rededicate the Holy Temple, which the Syrian-Greeks had defiled. When they lit the menorah (candelabra) in the Temple, the small amount of oil they had — enough for one day — miraculously lasted eight days, until new oil could be brought.
When Jewish people were free to observe their traditions, this Chanukah miracle was commemorated by lighting the menorah in public, outside their homes for all to see. But then came millennia of hatred and persecution, and the menorah had to be hidden. Hidden in jugs in the cellar in Inquisition-era Spain. Hidden behind closed doors and drawn curtains in Soviet Russia. And hidden under a bunk in Buchenwald.
But the Jewish people are resilient.
My grandfather, Rabbi Sender Liberow, grew up in Soviet Russia, where religious people were treated as enemies of the state and where private observance of Chanukah — let alone public — was fraught with danger. So when he — and many other Jewish people — settled in the free world, it was with pride and determination they once more celebrated Chanukah publicly — as it was always meant to be.
The worldwide Chanukah campaign, launched in 1973 by Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson has revitalized the public observance of the holiday, as more than 15,000 giant public menorahs are placed by Chabad each year. So as we light our menorahs at home and as we gather as a community at the Morgan Hill Downtown Amphitheater to light the giant menorah, let’s remember it’s not just a flame. It’s a symbol of the victory of light over darkness, and a symbol of resilience in the face of persecution.
Come what may, the Chanukah menorah will always shine forth.
Mendel Liberow
Rabbi Mendel Liberow is the director of Chabad South County Jewish Center in Morgan Hill.