I'm excited to start lighting Hanukkah candles tonight with family and friends, but this year I'm also struggling with the story.  The Maccabees bravely fought for freedom, but how do we interpret their violence and zealotry?  How do we celebrate when there is so much suffering - then and now - in the land of Israel?

Perhaps the early rabbis had a similar struggle.  They didn't want to encourage more revolts against the Romans, so the rabbis shift the focus of the Hanukkah narrative to the scene inside the Temple during the clean up and rebuilding.  Hundreds of years later, they move away from the Maccabees' military victory and lift up the miracle of the oil.

The rabbis also give the holiday its name: Hanukkah.  Previously, the historian Josephus had referred to the "Festival of Lights."  Hanukkah means "dedication."  After the fighting, the Jews rebuild and rededicate the Temple in Jerusalem.

The Jews rededicate themselves to their God, core teachings, and values.  They rekindle the eternal lamp, and move forward, one step at a time, with a sense of purpose.  

As we all know, dedication is not always easy, and it's an ongoing process more than a one-time victory.  That's why we return to Hanukkah each year.

This Hanukkah, I am grateful for the dedication of journalists who are holding up the complexity of the war in Israel and Gaza.  I am grateful for the dedication of teachers who are empowering their students with empathy and nuance.  

I am grateful that there are Israelis and Palestinians still dedicated to peace and shared society.  I am grateful that, in response to the overwhelming events and tragedy, people here have said: I want to better understand.  I want to dedicate time and attention to learning more.  

I am grateful that Sanctuary is a community of humans with open hearts and minds.  We're  curious and compassionate, and comfortable with unresolved questions.  We ask ourselves: Which parts of our Jewish lives need more dedication?  Which parts deserve reimagination?

When using English letters, we have a few ways of spelling Hanukkah (for some levity, listen here).
In Hebrew, "dedication" looks like this: חֲנֻכָּה
And in Hebrew, we can use the same letters to write "education" or hinuch: חִינוּךְ

As we enter into Hanukkah:
May we dedicate ourselves to learning and relearning.
May we give ourselves time to practice new skills.
May we give our attention to hearing new perspectives.
And in the process, may we discover new sources of strength and light.

​Happy Hanukkah!

Sanctuary officially opened last weekend, and it was good!

It’s always challenging to decide when to start something new.  Sometimes it’s smart to wait until we feel ready, and other times we need to push ourselves to jump in. 

When I saw that we would be reading the opening words of Torah at the end of October, I grabbed onto those dates.  The week when we relive the wonder of creation “in the beginning” felt like the exact right time to begin a new, exciting project like Sanctuary.  

Each gathering of the weekend embodied a different aspect of creativity, and collectively they formed the genesis of this spiritual startup: 

1. The creative process involves making separations: “God said, “Let there be light”; and there was light.  God saw that the light was good, and God separated the light from the darkness” [Gen. 1:3-4]. 

Differentiation adds much-needed texture to our lives, and at our Shabbat Dinner Gathering, we all felt the benefits of creating space and time in our week to truly be with one another.  We sat around the table, enjoyed delicious food and wine, talked about our lives, and really listened to each other.  The evening felt special, because it felt separate from the rest of the week.

2. The creative process involves an element of surprise.  When God said, “Let there be light,” God didn’t know exactly what would happen or how it would turn out.  Only after taking the risk did God see (perhaps with a sense of relief) “that the light was good.”  At our Family Gathering at Sheldrake Environmental Center, we practiced paying attention with all of our senses, and personally, I was surprised – and moved – to see how bright and beautiful the foliage had become.

3. When we intentionally stop, that can be the most creative act of all.  “On the seventh day God finished the work that God had been doing, and God ceased” [Gen. 2:2].  When God paused, that completed the work of creation.  At the Friday afternoon Yoga Circle, we spent an hour pausing with our bodies, holding poses for longer than we’d choose on our own.  Taking a weekly pause is essential not only to our productivity but also to our happiness, and the yoga practice helped us internalize this ancient message.

​4. The creative process is ongoing.  Sanctuary is committed to bringing Jewish wisdom into dialogue with modern life, and gathering in community around what we care about deeply: food and cooking, political activism, meditation, music, nature, and more.  Along these lines, we are eager to reimagine the path to becoming b'nai mitzvah, and here to support families through other life cycle events as well. 
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We are just getting started!