Artist unknown, Hanukkah celebration (c 1700s)
Spiritual Sunday
Hanukkah, Judaism’s festival of lights, begins Tuesday evening. As this Steven Schneider poem reminds us, Jews will be celebrating in places the old patriarchs never could have imagined.
But as the wind howls in the darkness, the Messiah is capable of showing up anywhere. Even in Nebraska.
Chanukah Lights Tonight
By Steven Schneider
Our annual prairie Chanukah party—
latkes, kugel, cherry blintzes.
Friends arrive from nearby towns
and dance the twist to “Chanukah Lights Tonight,”
spin like a dreidel to a klezmer hit.
The candles flicker in the window.
Outside, ponderosa pines are tied in red bows.
If you squint,
the neighbors’ Christmas lights
look like the Omaha skyline.
The smell of oil is in the air.
We drift off to childhood
where we spent our gelt
on baseball cards and matinees,
cream sodas and potato knishes.
No delis in our neighborhood,
only the wind howling over the crushed corn stalks.
Inside, we try to sweep the darkness out,
waiting for the Messiah to knock,
wanting to know if he can join the party.
