By Antony Lerman | 09/12/2010
We may not be permitted to do anything but look at them, but in the freezing gloom of our unseasonably cold winter, the Chanukah candles have innocently served the wider purpose of being a particularly warming sight. One solitary candle always looks so forlorn, but the candles on the four Chanukiot standing together on the fifth night, when our immediate family gathered at the home of one of my nieces, blazed incandescently, emitting light, heat and hope. Outside there were still mounds of snow in the street. A common sight in some other European capitals at this time of year, but not in London
Every year we try to get together during Chanukah, but it's not easy. A brother might be at a conference in Sao Paulo, a niece on a business trip in Milan. Last year a son was working in Brisbane, and a niece was away at university. But this year was something of a minor miracle, with almost everyone there. I'm sure that my Haredi friends in Stamford Hill don't have this problem, or a least not to the same extent. There, the tradition of the extended family, which was such an integral part of our lives in Golders Green in the 1940s and 1950s, lives on. Although I'm sure that Haredi international mobility has also increased. And it's at times like this you realise that Facebook is not just for the younger generation as it's obvious that the social networking site has become an important way of keeping up with each other. A remote control photo we took of us all was up on Facebook to share within an hour or two.
What do the more extensive global wanderings and the absence of the local extended family network mean for everyone's Jewish attachments? What kinds of Jewish journey are being taken, if any, now that the old forms of community and the boundaries they created no longer characterise the way we live? Anyone familiar with the patterns and trends of Jewish life will recognize the complexity and diversity we find in our family.
One niece recently married an Israeli, who still has very strong ties to home, and they bought a house in a Jewish part of London. Another spoke of the personal reasons why she may be ‘reconnecting with the Jewish side of her life'. Older brother is studying Talmud at the Masorti synagogue he joined after moving back to London from a town 25 miles away. Younger brother and sister-in-law are very active in their local Reform synagogue. Another niece is determinedly seeking out Jewish friends at a provincial university which has only a small Jewish population. Yet another is in more of a ‘spreading wings' mode, tasting new experiences at a university in another part of England. Others in the younger generation are facing experiences in their everyday lives that pose more difficult challenges to their sense of Jewishness.
In one way, it's obvious that negotiating Jewishness has become harder if you choose not to live behind the walls of strict orthodoxy. But in another way, the signs and symbols of things Jewish are far more easily accessible than ever before. For this Chanukah, you could easily find on the web the video of New York Latino-Jewish urban music group Hip Hop Hoodios singing a traditional Sephardi Chanukah song in irreverent Latino rap style or Matisyahu's new Chanukah rap offering, which a talented musician friend of mine pronounced ‘not at all bad'. If you happened to be in Budapest at this time, you could join the Quarter6Quarter7 festival, in which, as The Economist put it, the city ‘is celebrating the Jewish festival of lights as never before'. On YouTube you can find the hugely popular host of The Daily Show, Jon Stewart, in a hilarious 2008 duet with Stephen Colbert as he tries to convince the Christian Colbert to join him in celebrating Chanukah. He fails. Go to Park Lane in the heart of London and you won't be able to miss the huge Chanukiah situated opposite the Hilton Hotel at the south-east corner of Hyde Park.
I was reminded of the revolutionary nature of the change that has come about in forms of public Jewish expression when I was clearing my cluttered study desk just the other day. I came across an unopened CD I must have been given on a visit to a Jewish community centre in Russia 5 or 6 years ago. Called ‘Clouds', it's a collection of Hebrew, Yiddish and Russian Jewish songs, sung in a very professional, confident and celebratory manner. And the first three were Chanukah songs. No doubt featuring members of the community, the CD spoke of a faith in the Russian Jewish future. Twenty years before the recordings were made, who would have thought such a thing possible?
Who knows when the family will come together on Chanukah like this again. We'll certainly keep trying. Before we left to brave the freezing temperature and embark on an hour's drive home, I looked around. The latkes had more or less gone. There were a few mini-doughnuts left. Animated and thoughtful conversations were still going on. ‘Expect the unexpected', I thought to myself. And never sit in judgement on anyone else's Jewishness. Freedom—the key theme of Chanukah—means being able to choose your own way, to make your own journey. It may be double-edged, but it's a gift worth having.
