This year, Hanukkah passed by with little pomp and circumstance; before I even realized it had arrived, it had already begun. 

Although Hanukkah is considered a “minor holiday” for Jews ─ especially when we’re children ─ the eight-day festival, filled with candle lighting, gelt (chocolate coins), latkes (potato pancakes), sufganiyot (jelly-filled doughnuts), and more is always one of the most exciting times of the year. 

But as I’ve grown older, I’ve come to realize Hanukkah has a way of making one homesick. 

Chapman’s winter break and Hanukkah rarely align, so most students typically find themselves in their dorms during the Festival of Lights, relying on their university’s Jewish organizations to help them properly celebrate. Or they get resourceful and do their best with what they have on hand. 

Personally, I built a menorah out of crayons in my freshman year. A friend of mine built his out of La Croix cans this year. 

And although Chapman’s on-campus Jewish communities do a good job of bringing the holiday spirit to students, there is no denying that a certain melancholy strikes when the holiday is spent without the traditions that one grew up with.

It’s common for Jewish students to be away from home during important holidays, and for most, traveling home for one-day or even one-week holidays is not possible. With this distance from tradition often comes a sadness that leaves one questioning if they’ve lost touch with their heritage. 

Suddenly, the fact that you are no longer the kid who gets a present every night of Hanukkah is glaringly obvious. 

On the third night of Hanukkah this year ─ after I had learned the holiday had indeed already begun ─ I found myself reflecting on my family’s unique celebrations. I missed small candle lightings late at night and latkes with shaved zucchini. I missed the spin of a dreidel in my hand or trading milk chocolate gelt for dark. 

And then, for the first time in a while, I found myself feeling homesick. But in the face of this homesickness, I thought back on a Hanukkah story I had been told so many times in my childhood. 

A small army of Jews rises up against Greek oppression to take back the Second Temple. Even in the face of adversity, they persevere. And when they found they only had a small enough amount of oil to last one day, they lit the menorah anyway, and miraculously, the oil lasted eight days. 

Perseverance. Miracles. It is these two words that carried me through the homesickness that came with Hanukkah. 

After almost two years of living in the COVID-19 pandemic, enduring online school and witnessing political unrest, perseverance rings true. It is the strength we pull from the Maccabees of the past. The fact that Jews, faced with continual antisemitism, still manage to display their menorahs in the window every year without fear is inspiring.  

And miracles? Well, it is a miracle we’ve made it through these unprecedented times, and it is the idea of miracles yet to come that keeps us moving. These are common themes not only in the story of Hanukkah, but in all the great stories of the Torah and Talmud. The story of Passover and Purim are prime examples. 

So as Christmas cheer spreads and Jewish students find themselves missing the glow of tradition, there is something beautiful in going back to the basic principles of this very holiday. In remembering history, and the lessons it has to teach. 

Yes, finding your Jewish community on campus is important, and they are certainly available. But as I hunker down to work on my final projects, I recall the stories drilled into me by my religion: perseverance. Miracles. Lessons that are not only important once a year, but every day after. 

And then, I don’t feel so homesick after all.