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In the weeks leading up to Hanukkah, my inbox was filled with multiple invitations from a diverse array of journalists to talk about the holiday. A writer for The Atlantic wanted to know more about Hanukkah’s history in America; a reporter for Time plied me with questions about contemporary practice, while her counterpart at the Wall Street Journal, appropriately enough, zeroed in on Hanukkah gelt.

Hanukkah lights
Hanukkah lights. Flickr/Tim Sackton

Much as I appreciate, and am even flattered by, the burst of interest in my perspective -- after all, the last time I experienced such a show of popularity was back in 10th grade -- I’m curious about the media’s attentiveness. Surely, it’s not for want of other newsworthy stories; we’re hardly experiencing a slow news cycle. What’s more, near as I can tell, there are no new and startling developments in the way in which American Jews mark the holiday, apart, say, from substituting crème fraiche for sour cream atop potato latkes. This latest dollop of culinary innovation may have the traditionalists among us all riled up, but it hardly qualifies as journalistic fodder. What, then, might account for the current expression of interest in the Festival of Lights?

I suspect it has something to do with persistence. Though of ancient vintage, Hanukkah hasn’t bit the dust, as have so many other equally hoary festivals. Instead, it keeps chugging along, accruing new meanings and new practices along the way, especially in the United States where a host of factors over time -- consumerism, the rise of the State of Israel and intermarriage, among them -- have endowed the holiday with a new lease on life.

In the 1920s, the availability of new foodstuffs such as Crisco allied “latkes and modern science,” contemporizing the traditional tuber dish. In the immediate postwar era, American Jews increasingly associated the ancient Maccabees with modern-day Israeli soldiers, heightening Hanukkah’s relevance. Today, intermarried families make a point of celebrating both Hanukkah and Christmas, extending its reach and giving rise to a new genre of humorous greeting card that takes the sting out of the so-called “December dilemma.”

An exercise in adaptation, Hanukkah has stayed the course -- which, come to think of it, might well explain its appeal to the Fourth Estate. At a time of wholesale and rapid change, the holiday’s endurance is something to write about.

Spin on, Hanukkah!

Casting about for the perfect Hanukkah gift? Today, most of us don’t think twice about showering our children with presents when the Festival of the Maccabees bears down upon us. On the contrary. If we didn’t give a gift or two or three, we’d feel as if we were shortchanging the holiday, let alone our offspring.

wrapped gift
Flickr/Jen Chan
But that wasn’t always the case. American Jewish parents of an earlier generation had to be encouraged to associate the ancient holiday with the modern practice of gift-giving. “If ever lavishness in gifts is appropriate, it is on Hanukkah,” trilled the authors of What Every Jewish Woman Should Know, a compendium of helpful household hints that debuted in the 1940s.

Back then, American Jews were trying on Hanukkah for size, assessing just how far holiday celebrations could go in postwar America. Some turned to food, churning out bite-sized Maccabees made out of tuna fish, then well on its way to becoming a staple of the American Jewish diet. Others looked to holiday décor, coming up with brightly colored, Papier-mâché decorations to festoon home & hearth. And still others took up song, composing warmhearted ditties to the dreidel.

Many of those songs, along with Christmas melodies written or sung by American Jews, have been recently assembled and freshly repackaged by the Idelsohn Society in a light-hearted and amusing compilation called ‘Twas the Night Before Hanukkah. Listening to the CD will put you in the right holiday mood.

But then, since I had the good fortune to contribute an essay to the liner notes that accompany these musical offerings, I’m hardly an unbiased observer. Even so, take it from me: ‘Twas the Night Before Hanukkah will make a terrific Hanukkah gift.

In this season of good will and holiday cheer, Howard Jacobson, the Booker Prize-winning author of The FInkler Question and a guest last term of GW’s English Department, has made mincemeat of Hanukkah. Taking to The New York Times to make his case, he suggests that this Jewish holiday has outlived its usefulness — if, in fact, it had any in the first place.

Hanukkah
Is Howard Jacobson serious when he says Christmas is eclipsing Hanukkah? Image by Benjamin Golub.

Hanukkah, argues the British novelist in a cascading procession of paragraphs, simply fails to engage the contemporary imagination. Nothing about it — the food, the ritual, the music — can hold a candle to Christmas. "The cruel truth is that Hanukkah is a seasonal festival of light in search of a pretext," he writes, sidestepping history in favor of sociology. The best Jacobson can say of the holiday is that its name is "lovely." Really now.

As I made my way through the piece, I couldn't help but wonder whether Jacobson actually meant what he said or whether, his tongue firmly planted in his cheek, he was making light — and sport — of those who continually fault Hanukkah for not being Christmas.

Honestly, I couldn't tell. And I suspect other New York Times readers couldn't, either. Are we meant to chuckle at Jacobson's drollery, at his faux ho-ho-ho attitude towards Hanukkah? Or are we to take his thoughts to heart and give up on this age-old festival?

I, for one, hope that Jacobson is up to his usual tricks and is toying with us. If he isn't, well, some things are best left unsaid.