The month following October 7 was the first time in my life I have considered taking down a mezuzah. I didn’t and I don’t plan to. But as reports of anti-Jewish hate flooded my information channels, I worried. I read about Jewish people’s businesses and homes in Europe being spray painted with stars of David as if marking them as targets. I understood when I heard stories of people changing their names in ride share apps to make them sound less Jewish so as to avoid unwanted and hostile conversation. This particular phenomenon made me think about when my wife and I were deciding to take the same last name upon getting married; we were planning to reconstitute an old family name that had been married out of commission. We ended up choosing Adler. Even though Adler may not ring as Jewish to some ears, I was nervous to take on what I considered a fairly Jewish-sounding name. I asked my then fiancée if she felt okay with being visibly Jewish. She said “Yes, why not?”1
Some identities are unavoidably visible and some we can reveal or conceal as we choose. Jewish identity is the latter. The best story of choosing to conceal and reveal one’s Jewishness comes right out of the TaNaKh in the Book of Esther. Esther (whose name is possibly even a concealment of her Hebrew name, Hadassah) becomes queen without even King Ahashverosh knowing she is Jewish. In fact the entire story hinges on her revealing her Jewishness – coming out in a way. Being visible. Once King A knows she is Jewish (and what Haman *Boo!* is up to), he is able to advocate for the Jews so that they can defend themselves.
But this post isn’t about Purim and the Book of Esther. It’s about Chanukah.
Jewish tradition teaches us that the lights of Chanukah ought to be shared with the world – made visible.
The Sages taught: It is a mitzvah to place the Hanukkah lamp at the entrance to one’s house on the outside, so that all can see it. If you live upstairs, you place it at the window adjacent to the public domain.2
The idea is called pirsum hanes, making public the miracle of the holiday. It is a commandment of visibility, but not just casual “if you notice you notice” visibility. The commandment to place the chanukiah in the window is a commandment to catch people’s attention with the light – to make oneself visible. To make oneself visible requires a certain degree of courage and vulnerability. To make oneself visible is to value one’s self more than how others will respond.
Now, the text above continues:
And in a time of danger, when the gentiles issued decrees to prohibit kindling lights, he places it on the table and that is sufficient to fulfill his obligation.3
In other words, don’t martyr yourself, because indeed there are people in the world who do wish the Jews great harm. But absent imminent and certain danger, the spirit of the commandment is clear: let the story and miracle of Chanukah – and by extension the Jewish people – be seen.
Last week I went to our local Judaica store here in the East Bay, Afikoman. I went to see if they would be willing to sell my book (and they said yes – go get your copy in person!) While there I asked one of the owners how business was since October 7. She said many people had been coming in to purchase star of David necklaces. Another form of pirsum hanes. At first I felt embarrassed; other Jews were seeking out ways to be more visible and I, a Jewish educator no less, was scared. But then I felt emboldened. A sort of “if they can do it so can I” feeling came over me and I had the following thought: being visibly Jewish isn’t only about being visible as a singular Jew. A person wearing a star of David necklace means the Jewish people, with all of our wise, imperfect, funny, infuriating, and delicious ways of life, live.
Just the same, each lit chanukiah in a window is not just a sign of the miracles of the holiday, but that we exist at all.
It is a mitzvah to place the Hanukkah lamp at the entrance to one’s house on the outside, so that all can see it.4
I am more grateful to be a Jew than I am afraid. And it is with this overflowing gratitude that I wish you all a chag urim sameach, happy festival of lights. May your visibility this Chanukah give courage to those who need it.
Want to read other Chanukah essays from Turn It, Turn It? Check them out here:
Turn It Turn It the book is here! Get your copy now!
for more on the particular topic of Jewish name change, read A Rosenberg by Any Other Name: A History of Jewish Name Changing in America by Kirsten Fermaglich
Shabbat 21b:8
Ibid
Ibid