Nancy Rips - hanukkah stories

1: A Great Miracle Happened There
The meaning of Hanukkah, the holiday that lights up our lives every winter.

2: Tradition! Tradition!
Stories of Hanukkah are passed from person to person, home to home, generation to generation.

3: Who Can Retell
A potpourri of Hanukkah memories away from homefrom an RV camp in California, the ice in Finland, and even aboard Spaceship Hubble.

4: Menorahs Can Light Up Our World and Ourselves
The lights of the menorah remind us of the lights that shine brightly within each of us.

5: Eight Nights a Week
For eight nights we celebrate Hanukkah with parties, presents, and games. Even a dreidel champion is crowned.

6: Does December Have to Spell Dilemma?
Hanukkah is not the same as Christmas, although they both occur during the same season. That makes it a challenge for many families.

7: My Fair Latkes
Who wouldnt love a holiday where youre supposed to eat fried foods every night?

8: Let My People Enjoy
According to tradition, Hanukkah is a holiday of joy, laughter, and celebration.

To Noah

May you be like the spirit of Hanukkah,
lighting the darkness and making the world a better place.

As long as Hanukkah is studied and remembered,
Jews will not surrender to the night.

Rabbi Irving Greenberg

On Hanukkah we say:

We thank you for the miracles, the triumphs,
the heroism, and the help you gave to our ancestors
in days past and in our own time.

H anukkah is the holiday that lights up our lives. Its one of the most joyously observed Jewish holidays because it takes place in the home with all of the generations celebrating together. And the only accessories needed are a menorah, a working match, and a lot of love.

Hanukkah is also known as the Festival of Lights because Jews all over the world light a candle on their menorah each evening for a total of eight nights. By doing so, we remember the brave Maccabees who redeemed and rededicated the Temple in Jerusalem thousands of years ago. Although the victors had only one nights worth of oil left for the sanctuarys eternal lamp, a miracle happened and after they lit the flame, the oil lasted for eight days.

The miracle of Hanukkah comes from the victory of the few over the many. A small group of Jews stood up to the might of the Syrian-Greek Empire and prevailed. This happens so rarely that it rates as a real miracle. In fact the weekly portion we read in the synagogue during Hanukkah proclaims: Not by power nor by might, but by spirit. Each of us has the power to be that miraculous spirit to ourselves and to others, to light up the darkness and make the world a better place.

In HANUKKAH STORIES, over 101 people share their personal memories, tales and recollections. Some of the contributors are household names, while others are just like you and me. Their stories burst with tradition, love and hope and take us from an RV camp in California, to the ice in Finland, and even aboard Spaceship Hubble. The stories come from people of all ages, all walks of life, and all across the globe.

Hanukkah is a joyful holiday. Its a time to rededicate ourselves to family, celebration, and joy. And its a time to share our stories and traditions with our loved ones today and our future generations tomorrow.

The meaning of Hanukkah,
the holiday that lights up our lives every winter.

The greatest gift of Hanukkah may be our ability to recognize that miracles can happen for us. And the greatest miracle may well be the miracle of self renewal that is available to us all the time.

Rabbi Daniel F. Polish

At this time of year, when the sun is most hidden, the holiday of Hanukkah celebrates the rays of hope and light. Indeed, the physical darkness of this time of year can be a metaphor for the darkness that often envelopes us at times of illness and loss of a loved one, when the world sometimes seems dark and cold. At such times, we yearn for the sun and the light and warmth it provides. Often it is through simple and unrecognized miracles that we are able to feel the warmth of hope and light.

Rabbi Rafael Goldstein

* * *

I cant remember a Hanukkah without snow. Snow in drifts as tall as a man. And that man? My Poppa-the-Rabbi, trudging home from shul in the evening darkness to light the candles. Poppa with a wool muffler over his nose, rubber galoshes flopping on his feet, and his head warmed by a Persian lamb fur cap.

On any given Hanukkah night, Poppa would stomp into the house, blow the snowflakes off his cap and say, So, did I ever tell you who gave me this cap? Hed asked this question many times before, and of course I knew the answer. But pretending I didnt was part of our familys Hanukkah tradition.

No, Poppa. Who gave you the cap?

The cap? The cap was given to me by Czar Nicholas, himself.

Really, Poppa! When?

When I was seven, maybe eight. It was Hanukkah and Czar Nicholas just happened to be passing by our village when, through the open window, he heard me singing Maoz tzuuuur yshooo-a-seeeee. He was very impressed.

What did Czar Nicholas do then, Poppa?

What did he do then? He walked straight into our house, put the cap on my head, shook my hand and said, You may call me Nikki.

And from the kitchen Mama would yell, Oy, Alex! Such stories you tell her.

The Hanukkah candles we lit when I was a child were fat, sturdy and orange. Not plain-Jane orange, mind you, but orange. And when those candles stood in the frosty window, their flames melting the ice until it puddled on the sill, well anyone passing by knew he was looking at candles that meant business.