I’m back! Soon I will come up with a delightfully entertaining excuse for my three month lapse in blogging, and you will love it and, consequently, me again.
But today I want you to set aside my personal failure while I take a moment to wish you all a very happy Hanukkah!
I bought some of you presents. Some of you have made agreements with me to forgo a gift exchange, which makes me like you more than I like most people in general. The rest of you may cherish our friendship and my return to your computer screen, which is not nothing. Or at least, not entirely.
A great deal is unknown or misunderstood about the Jewish version of Christmas. And I’m here to help, because while many people undervalue it, Chanukah has always been a favorite of mine.
Hanukah is a festival of lights to celebrate the fact that a little bit of oil lasted for eight craaaaaazy nights. Some Greeks and/or Romans was attacking us Jews, as they always is. And we were hiding, because come on. And then there was some fighting, too. There were the great Maccabees and Queen Esther and King Hamentashen. Three bears. Goldilocks woke up. Miracle! This all took place way long ago, but very close to the time of year when Jesus was born and/or died, which means we get to do some pretty fun stuff while everyone else goes a-wassailing, and most stores will devote at least one shelf to desirable items like giant plastic dreidels filled with chocolate gelt. Double miracle!
Channukkah is fun because nobody knows how to spell it. Also, it is a word easily blended with the names of other religious holidays, in the manner of Christmukkah and Kwanzaakkuh, making for adorably quirky party invitations and seasonal television programming.
Finally, to commemorate the thing with the oil, we fry potato pancakes on top of the stove so that our clothing and hair become soaked with grease, and we all smell like a diner at 3am.