A Tale of Two Menorah Lightings

It was a moment of grace. The Upper East Side Menorah was destroyed by vandals on the first
night of Chanukah, hours after the community Menorah lighting. In the course of an afternoon, a
Menorah lighting for the second night was organized. Hundreds arrived in solidarity, and Mayor
DeBlasio and several other political leaders attended. The message on the second night was
clear: New York City will not tolerate intolerance. As the Mayor put it: When we see an act of
prejudice, when we see an act of hate, we must respond to it.. One night after an anti-Semitic
attack, this second Menorah lighting made a powerful statement that no anti-Semitism will be
tolerated in New York City.
It might be tempting for some observers to dismiss the vandalism of our Menorah as petty, but
theres nothing petty about it. If this is another anti-Semitic hate crime, (and it almost certainly
is), the perpetrators destroyed the menorah because they hate Jews; they hate me, they hate
my wife, they hate my children and they hate my community. I shudder to think of what these
perpetrators would do if they found a Jewish child alone in a dark alley. One need look no
further than San Bernadino to see how dangerous medieval hatreds can be deadly, even in the
United States. This act of vandalism, in my own backyard, is reminder that none of us is
insulated from anti-Semitism, even in 21st century New York.
Sadly, contemporary American Jews still must contend with the ancient hatred of anti-Semitism.
But there is one big difference: for us, anti-Semitism is not our biggest problem. American Jews
are truly mainstream, and perfectly at home here. Our community has won battle after battle
against anti-Semitism. But while were winning those battles, were in danger of losing the war,
because anti-Semitism is no longer our biggest challenge.
The greatest threat to Jewish life today is assimilation. The people who now show the least
enthusiasm for Judaism are the ones who matter most: young Jews. The Pew report of 2013
shows a community that is struggling to retain a new generation of Jews; 32% of Jews 35 and
younger identify themselves as Jews with no religion. Exactly at the moment when weve
overcome historic struggles with discrimination and hatred, we find ourselves facing an even
greater test: acceptance.
Acceptance is the Achilles heel of the Jewish community. In medieval Europe, Jews in Northern
European countries experienced greater persecution than their peers in Spain, yet it was the
Spanish Jews who were more likely to convert out of Judaism. Paradoxically, Jews have found it
easier to keep their Jewish identity when it was difficult to be a Jew. To paraphrase the 16th
century author Rabbi Ovadiah Seforno, success is a test as well. And for American Jews,
success is turning out to be a greater challenge to Jewish identity than persecution.
We know how to battle anti-Semitism, but are falling behind in our battle against assimilation.
Rabbi Jonathan Sacks jokes that the one way to fill up synagogues would be by putting up large
signs outside declaring no Jews allowed, because contemporary Jews would be certain to join
any institution that would refuse them membership. Hes absolutely correct. We have made our

way into restricted country clubs, and now thrive in once-restricted neighborhoods. But what are
we going to do about assimilation?
There are no quick fixes for assimilation, but our community Menorah, sponsored by Chabad of
the Upper East Side and the Kehilath Jeshurun Beginners program, is part of the solution. This
Menorah lighting is an outreach program with one simple assumption: that even one Chanukah
candle can open the door to a meaningful Jewish identity. And outreach programs like this have
had a wide-ranging effect on American Jews, inspiring many to take their Jewish identity more
seriously. The Menorah lighting on the first night was part of this struggle against assimilation.
American Jewish history is the tale of these two menorah lightings. One story is the 350 year
battle against prejudice, a heartwarming story of refugees from other countries finding full
acceptance in the United States that was on full display when the Mayor attended the second
Menorah lighting. But the story that remains to be written is whether Judaism can compete for
the hearts and minds of young Jews. As important as it is to make a statement against antiSemitism, the future of American Jewry depends on inspiring the next generation of Jews. And
while its meaningful that the Mayor came to light Menorah on the second night of Chanukah,
the Jewish future depends on whether we will be able to inspire young Jews to light the
Menorah all eight nights of Chanukah.