Hanukkah

On the night I'm writing this, it's the first night of Hanukkah. For anyone who doesn't know, my father was Jewish. I'm a Baptist, but I have strong ties to my father's side of the family and my Jewish heritage. Tonight, for the first time in my life, I lit the Hanukkah candles and said the prayers.

In years past my (gentile) mother has lit the menorah, but it's not the same. I know she's trying to keep my father's memory alive, but it feels a little insulting when she lights the candles without saying the prayers, or trying to understand at all. So tonight, while she was out and my husband was at work, I lit the candles and said the prayers myself.

I know 'You're not really Jewish either, it's no better when you do it.' It feels better. This is my heritage, my history. My people who fought so we could worship in our temple and purify it. And God's grace that let the purification last eight days/

So here I sit, candles burning in the dark, Christmas tree glowing in the background. A visual remind of the duality I fight to keep alive. 

I miss my father, but he was never very religious. The fact that we have a menorah at all is kind of amazing. If we celebrated any holiday it was always at a relative's house, never at home. I've never hosted a Passover Sedar or even said the evening prayers outside of Fiddler on the Roof. But this makes me feel closer to him than I have in a long time. And I have eight more nights to enjoy that closeness and light.

I leave you with one of the few songs that encapsulates the beauty of the holiday. Happy Hanukkah.