Welcome To My Kosher Home

Dear Friend,

I am thinking about you as you recuperate from your surgery. I was so sorry to hear about your fall! I hope you have a refuah shlemah, a speedy and complete recovery. I know you will be heartened by your granddaughter’s visit.

It will be Chanukah when you get this letter. The chanukiah will be fitted with little bulbs of golden oil, and the wicks will glow in the semi darkness of the front window, seen from the street.

After lighting and saying the brachos, we’ll sing Hanerot Halulu and Maoz Tzur, all eight stanzas. For the next half hour I’ll sit on the couch and enjoy the Chanukah lights. That restful period was earned for me by the women of the day who defied the Greeks. The men were mighty warriors, scenes my nephews will be pleased to recreate with their new swords and shields, but the women were mighty in their steadfast commitment to follow our traditions.

When I think of a strong woman, I think of you. You exude grace and elegance, with your white winter suits and proud demeanor. But of course I speak not of your obvious physical presence, but the strength that you must have drawn upon to create the kind of life and family you chose. I am sure that strength will help you recuperate now. We are counting on it.

I love Chanuakah. The family together, the simple ritual, the drama of the retelling of the story, the bravery of our people, the transcendence of Chana’s tragedy, the hot crispy latkes coupled with cold sour cream and sweet applesauce, the sweet soufganiot, the gelt, the songs, and the lights. Most of all the lights. They publicize the miracle to the world. They are reflected in our children’s eyes. They tell me that after destruction, there is rebuilding. They tell me that whoever comes to destroy us, in whatever way they try, will fade into oblivion, but the Jewish people lives. Thank Hashem.