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| It says what it needs to! |
In tapping into my Jewish roots, I felt an urgency to light a menorah, this year. It's related, I'm sure, to keeping alive the rich heritage gifted me by both parents. Though we celebrated Passover with my G'ma and G'pa Firemark, Chanukah was lost somewhere under the Christmas tree... the one my Dad so cheerfully provided us, each season. Still, I can picture him walking through the front door with a trophy Scotch pine.... I digress.
Organized religion is not for me. But I love to draw from all faiths, thus enhancing the spirituality I feel. As Dad used to say when I questioned him (endlessly, I might add) about his own beliefs, "Nick, I don't need a building in which to pray. It happens in my heart."
The eight nights of this holiday represent the length of time it took Jews to rededicate their reclaimed Temple, thousands of years ago. Would there be enough oil to last for this holy service to be accomplished? There was... and to this day, a candle is lit to represent each of those miraculous days on the Jewish calendar.
So, the menorah. I've been shopping for the perfect specimen, but the only one that suits my taste costs hundreds of dollars. Where would the humility of the occasion be found in such an expenditure? Instead, I used my Christmas-decorating tactics to find what would work in a more basic display. No, our other holiday's pine cones, branches and berries wouldn't cut it. Lo and behold, there it was! An unopened package of tea lights. Perfect. Stacked as such, they'll be swapped when necessary to last the duration. The center candle, used for daily lighting, is the equally perfect votive. Task accomplished.
Happy Chanukah... may your oil be plentiful.
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