Teen Perspective on Hanukah
By Hannah Weilbacher, a Student Group Leader for the West Philadelphia Walking the Walk group
 Our living room is filled with roughly 15 beautiful, lit menorot (plural for menorah). The lights are off, and the brilliant fire of the candles covers the room with a comforting aura. The shadows of the candlelight dance on the walls, making it seem like the room is swaying with the sounds of the songs we are chanting. I look around at our family of four (five if you include my dog, Max). My heart brims over with this annual flow of emotions of love: love for my family, my religion, my dog, and this holiday- the Festival of Lights.
My family has been celebrating Hanukah the same way every year. A few days before Hanukah starts (around the time when my sister and I start aching for the Christmas decorations and lights our neighbors flaunt), we put up all of the Hanukah and winter decorations we have in our house- including some Santas we have courtesy of my dad, a former Catholic. The windows, tables, walls, and doorways are covered in construction paper dreidels, snowflakes, clay snowmen, and more construction paper dreidels. The days leading up to the first night are full of anticipation and excitement.
“The winter months are a time when I, personally, feel glad to be Jewish. While Hanukah always falls during the darkest months, it seems to be the time when I feel the most light because of the traditions of my people and of my family that prove to stay strong year after year.”
Finally the night comes. Our family places our menorot in their designated spots: the one of rocks I made in first grade by the window on the left, the one of wood and bolts my sister made when she was four near the opposite window, the Noah’s ark one on my grandfather’s bookcase. We light the candles, and sing the blessings we have come to know- and love- so much. My dad hums along with us, singing some of the words he knows, but mostly leaving it up to us. My dog dances on his hind legs until someone picks him up, and then he tries to sing along, too. And then, after the songs, we go to the couch for me and my sister’s favorite part: the presents, followed by delicious potato pancakes known as latkes (Yiddish word, pronounced ‘lat-kas’).
And the pattern continues. Each night my dad picks up a little more of the Hebrew, each night my dog loses a little more interest. But each night there are also more candles, more light. The firelight reflects off and illuminates the ceiling, the walls, my mom’s face as she prays, my sister’s face as she laughs, and my dad’s face as he concentrates. When the last night finally arrives, we put the menorot away, and reluctantly face the fact that our favorite holiday is over.
The winter months are a time when, no matter your religion, you can still feel the holiday spirit. But it is also a time where I, personally, feel glad to be Jewish. It’s a time to reflect on the year in candlelight, to think about my Jewish identity, and to remember yet another time in history when the Jews prevailed in unlikely circumstances (as our tradition says- they tried to kill us, they didn’t, let’s eat). Regardless of your religion, everyone can relate, and find connections in their own religion, to the feelings and emotions the Festival of Lights evoke in Jews. While Hanukah always falls during the darkest months, it seems to be the time when I feel the most light because of the traditions of my people and of my family that prove to stay strong year after year.
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