We had our first few flakes of snow yesterday and the weather office says there’s a big storm a-brewin’.  I’ve taken my car into the shop already this morning to have my regular tires replaced with snow tires.  David’s brought his winter coats upstairs andI guess I’ll do the same today – before going outside.  I’ve already made (and frozen) about 75 latkes (it’s a good recipe, but don’t forget sprinkling sugar on latkes is also a great option) - with the help of my friend Esther – and there are sweet and sour meatballs cooking away on the stove. They’ll go with sweet and sour tofu cubes and assorted other goodies.  My cousin Fran is bringing hummus and pita; my cousin Cypora is bringing a salad; you see I have learned to say “what would be best for you to bring?  What do you like making?” and then whatever they offer is great.    My mother will make her famous “ponchkes” (that’s culinary heaven … free-form donuts fried in oil.  I’d share the recipe, if only there was one written down!  Best alternative I can offer is this recipe for Sufganiot which are the Israeli version of Mom’s ponchkes.  I’ve got little bowls filled with Hanukah gelt around the house, and our new Hanukah menorah (the one we bought in Woodstock, NY last spring) is just waiting for candles.  Hanukah (which will start this Friday evening) is just around the corner … again.  It’s really one of my favorite holidays.  Not because of presents and not because it’s my tribes way of celebrating at this very dark, sunless time of year  (just in case you were wondering, Hanukah is not Jewish Christmas).   I love it because it’s about miracles and believing in miracles.  It’s about being able to believe, even in the midst of what seems like endless struggle, that good can return.

A quick aside to the story of Hanukah in case you don’t know it.  If you do know it feel free to jump down a paragraph.

About 2200 years ago, Greek kings, who reigned from Damascus, ruled over the land of Judea and the Jews living there. One Greco-Syrian King, Antiochus Epiphanes, forbade the Jewish people from praying to their God, practicing their customs, and studying their Torah. Antiochus forced the Jews to worship the Greek gods. It is said that he placed an idol of the Greek God Zeus on the alter in the Holy Temple of Jerusalem.  In response to this persecution, Judah Maccabee and his four brothers organized a group of resistance fighters known as the Maccabees.  Against great odds, after three years of fighting, the Maccabees succeeded to drive the Greco-Syrians out of Judea.  The Maccabees reclaimed the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. They cleaned the Temple, removing the Greek symbols and statues. When Judah and his followers finished cleaning the temple, they rededicated it. On the 25th day of the month of Kislev in 164 BCE, the Temple was purified and rededicated. According to tradition, when the Maccabees entered the Holy Temple, they discovered that the Greco-Syrians had defiled the oil which was used to Temple’s menorah. Only one vat of purified oil remained – enough for only one day. It would take the Jews a week to process more purified oil. Then a miracle occurred. The Maccabees lit the menorah and it burned for not one, but eight days, by which time the new, purified oil was ready. This is why the Hanukkah Menorah has eight candles (not including the shamash candle used to light the others) and one reason why Jews celebrate Hanukkah for eight days.  Hanukkah proclaims the message of the prophet Zachariah: “Not by might, not by power, but by My spirit.”

The spirit.  The essence of all that is holy and good that dwells within each of us. This spirit is called by many names – God, Yahweh, Krishna, Vishnu, Allah … and countless more.  I’m not going to do that over-simplification thing and say – which I hear far too often – that the essence of all of these deities is the same; it isn’t.  In some religions what’s important is prayer, in others – like Buddhism which lacks an absolute creator – what’s important is ethics, meditation and wisdom.  I’m prepared to confess (not a very Jewish concept either) that my earliest memory of what the voice of God would sound like came from the movie The 10 Commandments. By the way, that was actually the voice of J. Delos Jewkes who, according to the New York Times, died on July 19th, 1984 at the age of 89. My image of the face of God came from Michelangelo’s paintings in the Sistine chapel. Indeed in truth most of my early learning about anything related to the Bible came from movies: Solomon and Sheba (1959), Sodom and Gomorrah (1963), David and Bathsheba (1951), Esther and the King (1960) to name just a few. But that isn’t what matters, I think. What matters – for all of us – is the ability to believe in the possibility of things being far better than they are; to have what some call faith in our ability to make the world a better place than it is. In other words, to believe in miracles.

This is what I’m going to be thinking about each night as I light my Hanukkah candles (first two nights at home, then a few on the road as Pearl and I wend our way towards Florida, and the last nights in Ft. Lauderdale where unless there’s a miracle that I won’t like so much we won’t see snow).  I’m going to think about the miracle of all of the blessings that I have had – and continue to have – in my life.  My dear mother, my sweet David, our children (and their partners) and grandchildren, my sisters, my brothers-in-law,  nieces and nephews and cousins and friends.  Having a pension that provides me with the opportunity to dedicate my energy to whatever I believe in … well, what can I call that short of a miracle?  My beautiful, peaceful home.  Wonderful food on the table.  Good wine in the cellar.  All blessings.  All miracles.

I’ll think about you too – my online friends – and the way you support my journey into this wonderful, exciting and sometimes scary new part of life.

May this holiday season bring blessings – and belief in miracles – to all.

My gift to you is this beautiful video by Sarit Hadad, who sang it in the 2002 Eurovision Song Contest.  Here’s what the lyrics mean:

Sometimes it seems that there is no hope
And everything looks so dark and unknown.
The flowers have not yet blossomed
in the garden and in the field.
In the evening only the wind blows
So come and we will light a candle together.

Light a candle; light a candle with me
A thousand candles in the dark will open our hearts.

Sometimes it seems that tomorrow
won’t come to comfort the crying and the sorrow.
And the long night continues with no promise
And the darkness is as sharp as a blade
So come and we will light a candle together.

Light a candle; light a candle with me
A thousand candles in the dark will open our hearts.

Light all the candles
Let’s light the candles everywhere
Just look at me and take my hand
The heat of love will glow again.