Reclaiming the light this Chanukah

As Kislev comes to its close and we prepare once again to kindle the chanukiah, I am drawn back to the central instruction of this festival. Chanukah is not only about remembering a miracle, it is about publicising it. The mitzvah of pirsumei nisa calls us to make the miracle visible, to place light where it can be seen, and to resist the instinct to retreat into the shadows. When others try to dim Jewish light, our tradition asks us to increase it.

This year, that teaching feels especially urgent.

The furore in Melbourne over Stonnington Council’s refusal to place a chanukiah alongside the Christmas tree has unsettled many across our community. For some, it is confusing. For others, it is familiar in a wearying way. For many, it raises deeper questions about belonging, dignity and who is welcome in the public square.

For me, the disappointment is personal. Malvern Town Hall is where Shtiebel gathers for the High Holy Days. It is where thousands of heartfelt prayers have been offered. It is where we bless our children, welcome the new year, reflect on the past, and imagine a better future. It is a civic building that has quietly become a sacred space because our community has filled it with meaning.

To picture that same building participating in a civic holiday display that excludes a Jewish symbol is painful. This is not a debate about decorations. It is about presence. It is about whether Jewish identity is considered part of the cultural fabric of Melbourne or treated as something that complicates an otherwise tidy narrative of inclusion.

I wish I could say I am confident the council will reconsider its position before Chanukah begins. I am hopeful but not certain. And that uncertainty highlights what this moment is really offering us.

Because alongside the disappointment sits a clear invitation.

If our visibility is questioned in civic spaces, then we must choose to be even more visible in our own.

If a chanukiah is not placed in the public square, then our windows can become the public square.

If the message sent is that Jewish presence is inconvenient, then our response is to lean in and teach the mitzvah more openly.

Chanukah has always been a festival of doubling down.

A small community insisted on practising Judaism freely, even when the world around them tried to push it out of sight. A single cruse of oil burned longer than it should have because those who lit it believed the act mattered. They believed that Jewish light belonged in public. They believed that publicising the miracle was essential to Jewish survival.

This year, more than in many years past, we are being called to take that responsibility seriously.

Light the chanukiah even if it is something you have only done occasionally.

Light it if you have let the practice slip.

Light it if you have never lit before and want to begin.

Teach the mitzvah to your children and to anyone who joins you at the table.

Explain why we place the candles where they can be seen.

Explain that Jewish visibility is not a request. It is a birthright.

Explain that our response to marginalisation is not withdrawal but illumination.

For some people, lighting the chanukiah will be an act of continuity. For others, it will be an act of courage. For all of us, it will be a reminder that Jewish presence is not defined by councils or committees. It is defined by the choices we make in our own homes and communities.

By the time this article appears, Stonnington Council may or may not revise its decision. Whatever happens, pirsumei nisa remains our mitzvah to fulfil. The light we kindle is not dependent on civic approval. It is ours to create, to share and to teach.

So this year, I invite everyone, whether deeply connected to Jewish practice or just finding their way back to it, to take the mitzvah seriously. Light the candles for those who came before us and those who will follow. Light them for those who cannot light their own. Light them as an affirmation of dignity and pride. Light them as a reminder that Jewish identity does not shrink in the face of challenge but shines more intensely.

Chanukah begins with a small flame, but its message is large. It calls us to be seen. It calls us to stand upright. It calls us to publicise the miracle with confidence and joy.

The real miracle is not only that the oil lasted.

The miracle is that we are still here to tell the story, to teach the mitzvah, and to let the light be visible in a world that still needs it.

Rabbi Gersh Lazarow is the founding rabbi of the Shtiebel, an independent Jewish community in Melbourne.