Light in the darkness, that is the meaning of Hanukkah.
This Jewish commemoration, comparable to Christmas, began on Thursday night, in which Jewish independence and the rededication of the Temple of Jerusalem are consecrated, with the lighting of the first candle of the menorah or candelabrum. In Columbus Circle, west of Manhattan, the celebration is different.
This moment in history is also different, in the middle of the war between Israel and Hamas in the Gaza Strip. Thousands of kilometers away, in this corner at the foot of the statue of Columbus, next to the south side of Central Park, emotions, songs, religious prayers and demands are mixed that break with the usual official discourse.
“Our menorah has more candles (the authentic one has seven) so that it illuminates more, which we need. There are as many candles as there are letters in the word ceasefire,” proclaims the master of ceremonies. Despite the Israeli executive's narrative of all-out war, supported by the White House (almost alone with the rest of the world as seen on Friday at the UN), these Israeli-American Jews and American Jews demand a ceasefire (ceasefire).
They condemn the October 7 massacre perpetrated by Hamas and condemn that Gaza, known as an “open-air prison,” is now “an open-air morgue,” notes author and columnist Peter Beinart.
“Our Jewish values tell us that we should not cause harm to others. As an American Jew, I have come to call for a permanent ceasefire for the people of Gaza and for all Palestinians. “I don't support the Israeli government doing this on behalf of all Jews,” says Hannah Klein, 31, a Brooklyn resident.
“As we say, where there are two Jews, there are three opinions,” he responds, highlighting his distance, and that of the several hundred who are gathered here, with respect to the predominant opinion in his community. “Like all Jewish rituals, this holiday is an opportunity to remember what Judaism is. I feel that we share those values that peace cannot be achieved by endless bombing and killing. I hope that other Jews can look into their hearts and find the same answer,” he concludes.
According to Lauren Strauss, professor and doctor in modern Jewish history and director of Jewish studies at American University in Washington D.C., the groups that protest as Jews against Israel are “a small minority” of Jews in the United States.
Strauss, who apart from the Holocaust places Spain and the Inquisition as a pinnacle in the forging of anti-Semitism, maintains that 90% of American Jews support the state of Israel and its right to defend itself. He clarifies that many of these Jews, involved in progressive US politics, have not been assumed to like the current Israeli government, nor to sympathize with the current prime minister, Benjamin Netanyahu. These progressives, and even groups of conservatives, demonstrated before October 7 against Netanyahu's policies.
Conservative and progressive Jews, a strange couple regularized by the repulsion of the bloody action of Hamas. Both of them experience a rapprochement due to their condition as Jews, regardless of their ideology.
In the Borough (Boro) Park neighborhood, one of the main settlements of ultra-Orthodox Jews in Brooklyn, a very right-wing group, the Hasidic journalist Yochonon Donn was working this week on an article against the stereotypes of anti-Semitism from the Rothschilds, the powerful bankers who conspiracy theorists attributed to pulling the strings of the world.
“My grandfather grew up in Poland and he told me that in some places they thought that Jews had horns because Michelangelo painted Moses with horns in the Vatican and it was a shine to the face!” he says ironically.
“It's a famous misconception. “If someone thinks we have horns, it is normal for someone to think we have a lot of power and that is like naming trash,” he adds.
Donn breaks the Jewish monolith. “We (Hasidic) are religious, our values are conservative, from marriage to abortion, and we live in a very liberal state,” he explains. More than a million Jews reside in New York and “there is a great rainbow,” an expression he uses to highlight the tones between different groups. “We have the right to disagree, but we still love each other,” he says.
“All the barriers have fallen,” he maintains when talking about October 7 and his opposition to the ceasefire. “The vast majority in our community believes that Hamas must be erased. Nobody wants to kill Palestinian children, but people support the war and in war there are collateral effects,” he remarks.
“I am not a military strategist and many of those calling for a ceasefire, Jews and non-Jews, do not know about military strategy either. Calling for a ceasefire without having access to the tactics of the Israeli army is irresponsible,” says Todd Chanko, an expert in financial markets and resident of the Upper West Side, proportionally the neighborhood with the most Jews in the United States and with a markedly liberal and progressive.
This is the opposite New York of journalist Donn. “They vote for Trump, they are racist, I dislike the role they attribute to women,” says Chanko regarding the ultra-Orthodox. “Even though I am against almost everything they stand for, we are still Jewish and have a lot in common in terms of Judaism,” she says.
Chanko, a Democratic voter who embraces liberal causes (racial, gender equality, for the LGBTQ, in favor of immigration or critical of Israeli settlers in the West Bank), suffered a real impact from the Hamas attack.
“It was a glorification of violence against the Jews,” he laments. And he was even more hurt by the pro-Palestine demonstration on October 8 in Times Square. “There was not even a shred of empathy for the pain,” she insists.
At home, he, his wife and their two young adult children tune in to their feelings. But he knows of families in which there is a generational hole, with children like Aryeh Michael, a 29-year-old teacher, one of those who demonstrate before the Columbus Circle menorah.
After living for six years in Israel, he is not only for the ceasefire, but for a peaceful solution with the Palestinians. “My parents don't understand my position, it's very difficult for them,” she says.
They say in this celebration that Jews are not commanded to be optimistic, they are commanded to have hope. Theirs is that there be light in the darkness.
