Ever wonder why we eat chocolate wrapped in golden foil on Hanukkah?
Maybe it’s because, as one 14th Century rabbi argued, charitable Jews would give out coins to widows and orphans during Hanukkah.
Or maybe it’s to celebrate the Maccabees, who celebrated their victory by minting their own coins.
Or maybe it had to do with teachers: Hanukkah sounds a bit like Hinukh, Hebrew for education, hence another tradition of giving cash gifts to excellent teachers during the holiday.
Whatever the reason, by the 18th Century, someone got the bright idea to make the coins chocolate, and the rest is history.
Now, look—we get it. Tearing open that mesh baggie is satisfying, and there’s nothing like a thin layer of delicious chocolate lodging itself under your fingernails as you struggle to peel off the golden foil. But here’s a radical idea: this year, why not celebrate Hanukkah old school, by taking a minute to think about our generous souls, our fierce warriors, our committed teachers—the folks without whom community would be impossible?
How? Simple: by joining scores of other Jews who are committed to the Seventh Day Giveaway.
The logic here is straightforward. Most of us follow more or less the same rhythm when it comes to Hanukkah: nice gifts on days one and two, big gifts on days three and four and five, small gifts on days seven and eight, and then a major blowout on the final night. Imagine, then, taking day seven, and instead of unloading yet another token gift (we’re looking at you, socks), giving some money to charity instead.
And not, mind you, in the rote and perfunctory way, but as a joyous family activity: each member of the family is allotted a certain sum of money to donate, and each in turn has to share which charity they choose and why. It’s a great opportunity not only to do some good but also to talk about our values and remind ourselves that the light only increases when we convert thought to deed.
It's a great way, too, to flex that most important of all our muscles, gratitude: it’s not a coincidence that each year, right before Hanukkah, we read the story of Jacob, the patriarch that gave us all the name Israel, crossing the river on his way back home after decades in exile. Before he takes that crucial step, he looks up and thanks God for all his bounty. When I left home, he reflects, I was so poor all I had was my walking stick, and now I’m a wealthy man, a husband, and a father. Katonti Mikol HaChasadim, Jacob says—I’ve become small and humbled from all the goodness that God has bestowed upon me.
There’s no better attitude to get us into the holiday spirit, and no better way to drum it up than to take one day out of the eight and focus on giving back.
Liel Leibovitz is editor-at-large for Tablet Magazine and host of its daily Talmud podcast Take One.
