By Jay D. Homnick on 12.22.08 @ 6:07AM
Hanukkah began its eight-day visit last night, just in time.
Still new to my sixth decade, I have been seeing a lot of my
doctor lately, as he engages in a great deal of putatively
salubrious poking and prodding. He, in turn, would like to see
less of me. Thirty pounds less. And with an overweight friend
having suddenly expired at 54 a fortnight ago, it is time to make
light of myself rather than the situation.
A simple look around at my fellow denizens of Miami informs me
that the nonagenarian types make it that far down the road by not
traveling too laden. These wispy whisperers wend their way
through the vagaries and vicissitudes that fell all their
mightier counterparts. This prompts the thesis that the way to
live longer is by giving up some of the space you are occupying.
You kind of scootch over in your seat to leave room for the new
guy, so there is no urgency to evacuate. As the Talmud reports,
when Alexander the Great asked the Jewish sages how to achieve
longevity, they said: "Die a little so you may live a lot."
If your body must shrink to survive, how does this affect the
mind? Here again the Jewish tradition suggests the mind can be
expanded as the body consumes less. In the words of the Mishna,
elderly scholars cultivate orderly minds while aged ignoramuses
descend into frustration. The symbol for this notion is the
candle, where a slender wick can support a brilliant light. Which
brings us to the holiday of Hanukkah, making its annual eight-day
visit beginning Sunday night, December 21.
Like every holiday in every culture, the theme is embraced by the
few while the pomp is enjoyed by the many. Hanukkah is a good
time any way you slice it, the dancing lights reflected in glad
eyes. Families get together, not for long laborious feasts but
for chatting, snacking, playing dreidel for small amounts of
money. The atmosphere is a perfect pitch of general excitement
without excess. Everyone from little kids to old codgers gets
into a cheerful mode.
Yet the inner substance of the time is the celebration of
intellect. Ultimately what lives on, oblivious to the tick of the
clock, is the idea. That is the light which is never
extinguished, the immortal truth.
Right now our entire society is on a diet. Vast sums of money
have disappeared from the collective wealth of mankind. Every
sort of miscalculation and misappropriation imaginable have
collaborated to shrink our physical footprint. We hope this
condition does not persist. We press harder at our various tasks
of living and wait for a turning tide.
Yet it would be a terrible waste to sulk through this episode.
The choice is ours: we can make something of our predicament. We
can seek refuge in the life of the mind. While the examiners sort
out the banking situation, we can recommit to the examined life.
Perhaps the light was flickering too feebly while we disported
ourselves in the realm of the superficial. We are being called
again to sort the substance of our experiences. Let us embrace
content, not discontent.
Whatever exactly took place between the Jews and Greeks more than
two millennia ago, the insight emerging from the conflict still
glimmers: it is that right makes might. Maybe only once in a very
long time a nation comes along to accept that challenge, to
apportion its power proportionate to virtue. The United States
was founded to be such a place, and largely manages to be even in
its weakest moments. Why don't we curl up this year while the
candles are burning and reread our Bibles, review our
Constitutions.
We might be surprised to learn that if we preserve the idea, it
will sustain us and give us strength to rise again.
topics:
Hanukkah
