I have spent the whole day making fig jam. During the summer I cleaned and froze the figs I wrenched from the birds that live in my neighborhood. Throughout the summer they make such a riot near the tree that I planted in front of my house, in what I imagine is a discussion about the ownership of the tree. There are plenty of figs for birds and people, and sometimes I have to shoo them away because the noise can be unbearable, not so much because of lack of figs. I love eating those figs, and I love the ritual of keeping them frozen until it is almost Hannukah so I can make fig jam for gifts and for us to consume during kiddush on Shabbat. Summer is my favorite season, and this late autumn ritual reminds me of the cyclical nature of our calendars, and that pretty soon summer (and the birds and the figs) will come back. Each bite of jam brings reassurance that the short and dark days will not last forever. Like most things, they will come and go.
Summer is my favorite season because I love the light and the length of the days. I enjoy what I feel is more time to live, more light, the carefree feeling I get, the shedding of jackets and the light clothing, cool drinks, and the sounds of the sea when I can get to the beach. Having this fig jam for Hannukah highlights one of the aspects of the holiday that I love the most: the ritual of lighting the hannukiah. Hannukah is also called the Holiday of Lights, Hag Urim, which I understand as the time in the year to increase enlightenment, through authentic and creative dialogue.
Throughout the holiday we light the candles of the hannukiah, adding one more candle each night, increasing the light that blesses our home with the promise of renewal, allowing our hearts to believe (even if for a little moment) that we have the tools to banish the darkness of hatred.
Hannukah bolsters our spirits with the understanding that even though things seem to be bad, there is always a hope that light will prevail. Looking at the lit hannukiah every night prompts us to remember that every kind of light—the light from the candles and the enlightenment of people, the light of justice, the light of true communication, and the light of compassion—can be multiplied every day with our effort and patience. Just as I worked hard in harvesting the fruit, cleaning and freezing it in the summer, and today adding the sugar and other ingredients, making the jam, preparing the jars, filling them with jam, and finally canning all the little pots, I can work with purpose and intention to increase enlightenment in my community and in my world. Both making the jam and being fully present in conversation in order to increase understanding are intense work that leave me both exhausted and exhilarated.
The fully lit hannukiah and the delicious jam are the reminders that I can and that I will act in ways that will bring more joy and light to the world, through openness of communication and sharing my point of view truthfully and with respect, while listening intentionally to understand what another person is sharing with me.
If you want some of the jam, let me know (I am happy to bring it to you if I can drive it to you—I cannot mail it, though). I hope it will bring you as much joy as it brings to me. And this year, as you light the hannukiah, think of ways in which you can increase light and banish darkness as you share your time and your opinions. Focus on the good you want to accomplish, and let the steps take as long as they will.
Every person is equipped with gifts that can bring joy and light to this world, and all of us can be more intentional in the way we communicate.
The effort pays in ways whose magnitude goes beyond our wildest dreams. Each one can find the best way to be helpful and giving, and when our starting point is the desire to build more and harm less, we will surely increase light and diminish darkness, expand joy and banish sadness. Hag Urim Sameah, a happy and joyful holiday of lights, one in which the light of the candles will increase and pierce through the darkness of discord and misinformation.