As we approach the final night of Hanukkah, the flickering glow of the candles has me reflecting on the objects we bring out each year, the experiences that bind our community together, and the new gifts that will soon join our family traditions.
Objects of Connection
Each year, when I take out our family hanukkiot, I am struck by the power of physical memory. Among them is my childhood menorah—the very same one my mother used when she was a little girl. While I can no longer find candles small enough to fit its tiny holders, its presence on our table is essential. It connects me to the moment my parents first instilled in me the value of l’dor vador (from generation to generation). It represents a concrete connection to the traditions and thoughts of those who live within our hearts, whose light we carry forward even when they are not beside us.
Stories That Bridge the Distance
The book I have been holding close this week is Hanukkah Upside Down by Elissa Brent Weissman. A PJ Library gift, it describes the relationship between two cousins on opposite sides of the world—one in New York and the other in Australia. Through their conversations, they share their traditions and environments, holding the light of Hanukkah between them.
This story feels especially heavy and important this week. While our community has been mourning the recent atrocities at Bondi Beach, this book offers a way for us to show our children that Jewish people live all over the world, and that we are deeply connected. Opening our children’s eyes and hearts to the greater Jewish community—exposure to a world beyond their immediate one—is where we begin to build their sense of belonging.
Holding the Light Together
It makes me ask: What do we hold, and what do we share? My mother recently returned from a trip to Israel with her synagogue, a journey supported by the UJA (much like our own RSNS mission trip this past summer). She returned carrying the experiences of our people and gifts for her grandchildren, intended to bring meaning to a place that can often feel so far away, and for my children to keep for years to come. Comparing our respective trips to Israel from this past year allowed us to reflect on how our people have persevered through adversity and hardship. Together, we hold that light.
“In a World of Darkness, Be the Light”
On the first night of Hanukkah, my parents gave me a sweatshirt that I have worn often this week. It bears a simple but profound command: “In a world of darkness, be the light.”
They gave it to me because that is how they have always seen me—as someone who tries to bring warmth into the world, even when it feels difficult. Like all parents, they recognized a spark in their child early on and nurtured it with faith and values. That belief—that each of us has the capacity to be a source of illumination—shapes my beliefs and actions as a parent, friend, and educator.
Tending the Next Generation
As the director of our nursery school, I am privileged to be surrounded every day by the next generation of light. I see it in:
In a world that can feel heavy, our children remind us that light doesn’t have to be loud to be powerful. Sometimes it looks like sharing, listening, or simply trying again.
Hanukkah teaches us that even a small flame matters and that light grows when it is protected and shared. Our children are those flames. Our role as parents, educators, and a community is to tend them carefully, to model the values we hope they will carry, and to trust in their ability to illuminate the future.
May this final day of Hanukkah remind us to notice the light within ourselves, to honor the generations who nurtured it in us, and to believe deeply in the light we are raising together.
Chag Urim Sameach,
Adrienne Rosen
Gan Shalom Director
