Hanukkah begins on Sunday night, December 18. This week, in advance of our celebration, here are some reflections on darkness and light.
Ten years ago today, 26 people were killed at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Conn.; 20 of those people were first graders.
Between December 2012 and Jun 1, 2022, 91 children have been killed in 100 mass shootings on school premises; 72 adults were also killed, and 121 people wounded. This number, which should shame us, pales in comparison to the numbers of children killed by gun violence writ large. And, this number does not take into account the over 200,000 children exposed to gun violence at school. After each school shooting—and the fact that this phrase exists is also shameful—I come back to a phrase uttered by our Talmudic sages, who remind us that “the world only exists because of the breath of schoolchildren.” In a tradition which teaches that to save one life is to save an entire world, it is unfathomable to consider the number of worlds we have seen destroyed in these 10 years.
In my almost 17 years as a rabbi, and even in my five years here at Wise, I have far too often had to help craft a message of comfort after ordinary people, and far too many children, were killed in a mass shooting in America. You have far too often read these statements; we have far too often cried and lamented together. We know that the time is long past due for real and concrete action to keep assault rifles out of the hands of those who seek to harm and murder.
Ten years ago today, 26 people were killed at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Conn.; 20 of those people were first graders. That week, I wrote a piece that was shared by the Union for Reform Judaism. This week, with Hanukkah just days away, I want to offer some of those words to you:
I was struck by a story I heard on NPR, about St. Rose of Lima, the Catholic church in Newtown, which—like many houses of worship— was overflowing on Sunday following the shootings. In its pews were students, friends of those children; in its pews were parents, looking for comfort and consolation; in its pews were mourners, one of their own children—scheduled to play an angel in the Nativity Play—had been killed. Her parents were sitting in those pews.
That poor priest, I thought to myself. What words can he offer? How can he possibly preach?
In the liturgical calendar of the Catholic Church, last Sunday was Gaudete Sunday, the third Sunday of Advent, the Christmas season. Gaudete Sunday gets its name from the Latin word “gaudete,” meaning rejoice; it is the first word of a certain part of the ceremony. The theme of Gaudete Sunday, then, is joy. And so, he preached on joy. On the need to find it, to celebrate it, to still be able to feel it.
And so, as we prepare to light the lights of Hanukkah, here is my hope for us: May we find, celebrate, and feel joy—and may it inspire us to find, create, and share light.
—Rabbi Sari Laufer