My First Hanukkah

Hanukkah, December 1990

I know my website is only a few days old, but with Hanukkah just around the corner (December 14 at sunset until 22 at sunset), I had to mention it! Israel usually celebrates Hanukkah in December, though it can fall in November because Jewish holidays follow the Hebrew calendar, while everyday life uses the Gregorian one. In the Hebrew calendar, the twelve lunar months—Nissan, Iyar, Sivan, Tammuz, Av, Elul, Tishrei, Cheshvan, Kislev, Tevet, Shevat, and Adar—move with the moon from one new moon to the next.

In 1990, the year my memoir takes place, Hanukkah began on Tuesday, December 11 (25 Kislev 5751) and ended on Wednesday, December 19 (2 Tevet 5751).

I had been in Israel for barely a month. The sun was shining, the days were warm, and the dark, cold December atmosphere I had always associated with winter felt far away. Christmas wasn’t just out of sight—it was out of mind.

That Sunday (yes, the first day of the week in Israel), on my way to the bus stop from ulpan—the Hebrew language school—I noticed something unusual. Nearly every shop window was stacked with round, jelly-filled doughnuts dusted in sugar. Outdoor st

ands sold them too. They were everywhere. I had no idea what this doughnut galore was about.

The next day, our ulpan teacher ended class by holding up one of those doughnuts and asking what it meant. Almost everyone knew. I didn’t. But I soon learned—thanks to my teacher and my mother-in-law—that this sugary explosion was not random. It was Hanukkah.

The doughnuts, called sufganiya (plural: sufganiyot), are part of the tradition. Fried foods, especially those made with oil, commemorate the Hanukkah miracle, when a small amount of oil kept the Temple’s menorah burning for eight days instead of one.

Hanukkah is also a time for lighting candles at sundown, singing songs, spinning the dreidel, gathering with family—and of course, eating. That’s when I discovered potato latkes. For a lighter and very tasty version, I highly recommend Ruhama’s latke recipe on her Instagram account. I also received my very first Jewish gift: a small golden hanukkiah, the nine-branched candelabra used specifically for Hanukkah. I placed it alongside the family’s others and, in that small moment, felt like I belonged. I wasn’t Jewish. I hadn’t even started converting officially. But I had agreed to convert—for my in-laws, for acceptance—despite being an atheist. That little gift felt like both a thank-you and a welcome.

I write more in detail about that first Hanukkah—and what followed—in my memoir.

Have you ever been welcomed into a tradition you didn’t grow up with? I’d love to hear.