The Schmooze
Chanukah reminds us to shine brightly – not to hide away
Jewish identity can’t be defined primarily by our sense of vulnerability
December 10, 2025 15:31
3 min read
Jewish identity can’t be defined primarily by our sense of vulnerability
December 10, 2025 15:31Chanukah arrives each year at the darkest point of the calendar. Short days, long nights, a creeping temptation toward gloom. Yet our tradition insists that precisely here, we light candles. Not to curse the darkness, not to shout at it, but simply to add light. One flame on the first night. Then two. Then more. An almost mischievous optimism embedded into Jewish custom itself.
Which is why Chanukah feels like the right moment for a slightly uncomfortable conversation about Jewish positivity and our growing tendency to define ourselves primarily through what threatens us.
Open almost any Jewish newspaper – including this one – on a given week and you will find numerous stories on antisemitism. Sadly, this is not merely a post-October 7 phenomenon. True, much of it is real. Some of it is also urgent. But not all of it is helpful. There is a point at which constant grandstanding around hatred risks doing the very thing we most fear: shrinking Jewish identity until it becomes little more than a reaction to those who despise us.
Chanukah offers a radically different model.
The Maccabees did not defeat Greek culture by protesting it. They did not run campaigns declaring how awful Hellenism was. Rather, they asserted Jewish values, continued teaching Torah, observed mitzvot and then vanquished their enemies. They subsequently relit the Menorah and recommitted themselves to Jewish life. The Chanukah miracle, recorded in the Talmud (Shabbat 21b), is not about the war, rather that the oil lasted eight days; it is that light itself became the strategy.
The Prophet Isaiah describes our mission succinctly: “I will make you a light unto the nations” (Isaiah 49:6). Note what it does not say. It does not say: “Be a crusade”, “Be a jihad”, “Be a loud moral police force wagging its finger at the world.” Light works differently. It shines forth. It attracts. It warms. It illuminates quietly. You do not argue darkness away; you displace it.
Darkness will always exist. Chanukah does not deny it. It relativises it. One candle can illuminate the darkness
That is why Chanukah is the festival of addition. Beit Hillel teaches that we add a candle each night, ascending in holiness (Shabbat 21b). Judaism does not say: “If things are bleak, retreat.” It says: “Increase light. Believe in tomorrow. Assume the future is worth investing in.”
This matters deeply for how we present Judaism to the next generation.
No young person, Jewish or otherwise, wants to belong to an identity whose central message is: “Everyone hates us.” It is not empowering. It is not inspiring. It is not true to our own heritage. The Torah describes us as “a wise and understanding people” (Deuteronomy 4:6), not only a permanently besieged one. If this is what the Jewish people are, and Chanukah originates from the word chinuch, meaning education or dedication, let’s seize the opportunity this Chanukah to share our passionate dedication to being Jewish by seeking to educate with joy and positivity. King David sings not only from pain but from joy: “Serve God with gladness” (Psalm 100:2). Jewish life was always meant to be vibrant, compelling, song-filled, purpose-driven.
Of course, we must confront antisemitism. Ignoring hatred does not make it disappear. But when vigilance becomes obsession, and fear becomes identity, we lose something precious. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks warned repeatedly that defining Judaism by antisemitism is “to hand Hitler a posthumous victory”. Our story is far older, deeper and more beautiful than our enemies’ malignancy.
Chanukah candles are lit at the doorway or window. They are outward facing. They are confident, and so are we. We do not hide our light, nor do we wield it aggressively. We simply place it to shine where it can be seen.
Imagine a Jewish identity our young people are invited into that is built around goodness, generosity and meaning; around learning that sharpens the mind, communities that nurture the soul, festivals that pulse with song and dance, a sense of being part of something ancient yet urgently relevant. That is an identity people lean towards, not away from.
Darkness will always exist. Chanukah does not deny it. It relativises it. One candle can illuminate the darkness. Another candle can brighten the room. Eight candles can transform the home.
Perhaps it is time we trusted our age-old wisdom again. Not less awareness, but more light. Not less realism, but more hope.
Jewish positivity is not naïveté; it is faith in the power of who we are at our core. Chanukah challenges us to stop narrating Jewish life through fear, anxiety and insecurity, but rather to start illuminating it through vision, confidence and joy.
Rabbi Naftali Schiff is the founder and CEO of the Family of Jewish Futures
To get more from community, click here to sign up for our free community newsletter.