Recently, I was privileged to be invited to the 11th annual Congressional bipartisan Hanukkah celebration at the Library of Congress. I met our Congressman, Lee Zeldin, and Congresswoman Debbie Wasserman Schultz, who mutually hosted. I also met again a colleague and a Jewish Theological Seminary graduate, Chaplain (Col.) Rabbi Larry Bazar, who gave the benediction. When I arrived, the senators were discussing the impeachment deliberations, this celebration, and the lighting of the Chanukia celebration at the White House. This was a reminder of the necessity to take a break from the festival of darkness and celebrate the Festival of Lights. As the people came into the room, they looked at each other somewhat “suspectfully” in an effort to ascertain each one’s political affiliation. It reminded me of a wedding, where guests were on the side of either the bride or the groom. But conversations immediately arose, vibrant and friendly, even in this contentious time. This is the beauty. The Torah commands us never to keep our anger or even our hate buried in our hearts: “You must not harbor hatred against your brother in your heart. Directly rebuke your neighbor, so that you will not experience guilt on account of him. (Lev. 19:17) In the shortest days of the year, we also read about the darkest text in the Torah — the selling of Joseph by his brothers. This was a culmination of a process that began with envy and jealousy and the inability to speak to him. Keeping anger and hate inside resulted in throwing Joseph into a dark pit. Our rabbis teach us that keeping our anger buried is equivalent to keeping Joseph in the pit, in the dark. Hanukkah is a celebration of outward light, publicizing the miracle. Perhaps when we say, “Blessed are You, the Lord our God, King of the universe, Who made miracles for our forefathers, in those days at this season,” we as Jews come together in the darkest hours and overcome our differences. While the ancient Greeks enlightened the world with art, philosophy and science, it was reserved for the intellectual realms. But for Jews, the heart is indispensable to our world view. Jews have always been battling to maintain the spiritual light within any oppressive environment. Even for a minute, the bipartisan Hanukkah celebration brought Joseph out of the pit.

In a time when it seems as though anti-Semitism is rampant, keeping the conversation going is essential. It may not be a total solution to anti-Semitism, but I believe that it can influence the greater conversation by example. The Jewish people have survived physical, spiritual, mental, and religious persecution; we must advance this message of continuous conversation — to have faith in a God we can’t see, but who speaks to us all the time. The menorah, one of the most Jewish and outward symbols, of our faith, represents our community, our identity, and our continuity. The battle of Hanukkah protected monotheism in the world, not just for Jews. John Adams, the second U.S. President (1735-1826), wrote to those who look down on Judaism: “Let the wits joke; the philosophers sneer! What then? It has pleased the provident that Abraham should give religion, not only to the Hebrews, but to the greatest part of the modern civilized world.” Mark Twain (1835-1910) wrote “[The Jew] has made a marvelous fight in this world in all ages; and has done it with his hands tied behind him… All things are mortal but the Jew; all other forces pass, but he remains. What is the secret of his immortality?” The answer is light in the home — Ner Ish uVeito — each home and its light. In the beginning of 2020, let’s try to see one another clearly, and to appreciate our different shades of light. Happy New Year 2020!

—Rabbi Gadi Capela