Pirsumei Nisa - Sharing the Miracle

This past Saturday night, as I was driving over to Ḥanukkah Funukah - which absolutely lived up to its name! - I couldn’t help but notice all the ḥanukkiyot in windows along my route to shul. I was so moved by seeing them and as I was thinking about it, it struck me that this was something really special for me. I don’t really have the opportunity to regularly enjoy seeing other people’s windows lit up by ḥanukkiyot. There are at least a couple of reasons for this. One is that, as a parent of younger children, I don’t often go out and about in the evenings, even during Ḥanukkah. Or if I do, I’m too focused on driving and/or mediating backseat battles to notice much of what’s happening off the road. Another is that Ḥanukkah is a home-centric holiday. The key ritual of lighting is one that we’re meant to do in our own spaces. 

In this context, Ḥanukkah’s celebration being so centered around our private spaces, it’s even more interesting to note the Talmud’s implied goal for the way we light. We place our ḥanukkiyot in our homes in such a way that they can ideally be seen by others - at the entrance, or in a window. We do this to publicize the miracle of Ḥanukkah, Pirsumei Nisa in the language of the Talmud.

When I was learning some of this text with my students this week, we noted that the options for ḥanukkiyah placement also include a third, less outwardly visible, choice: on the table. When I asked my students to reflect on why the table might be an option, especially if the goal is for people outside to see our candles, they came up with some great answers.

• Maybe you live far away from other people, so no one will pass by to see your ḥanukkiyot and you and your family should be able to enjoy them yourselves.
  
• Maybe placing your ḥanukkiyot at the entrance or by the window would be a fire hazard. 
  
• Perhaps it wouldn't be safe to display your ḥanukkiyot publicly, so we should still do the mitzvah, but a little more privately. 
  

This third reason is the Talmud’s reason as well, and it feels a little more relevant to our lives now than it did last Ḥanukkah. It hurts to say that, but I imagine this sentiment resonates with many of us. My eighth graders felt it too. Exploring this idea further, we learned a little about what happened in Billings, Montana, in 1993. 

In response to a spate of hate-fueled crimes, including someone throwing a brick through a Jewish child’s window because he had a ḥanukkiyah displayed there, the town banded together to combat the prejudice that was bubbling to the surface. The local newspaper printed a full-page ḥanukkiyah, and asked readers to cut it out and put it in their windows, in solidarity with the local Jewish community. And people did. Ḥanukkiyot began popping up in windows all over the city. 

I asked my students how they thought Jewish people living in Billings at the time felt when their neighbors started putting up ḥanukkiyot. They said: empowered, loved, supported, not alone. 


I didn’t realize it at the time, but noticing all of the ḥanukkiyot in people’s windows did the same for me. Seeing this light all around our community, I felt supported, empowered, part of something bigger than myself. Connecting back to the Talmud text, maybe this is part of the miracle we’re publicizing - the miracle of being there for each other, of putting our own light right out front so it can be seen and felt by others. 

Wishing everyone a light-filled final days of Ḥanukkah!

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