Miracles Happen Every Day

Shabbat Shalom, 

Hanukkah begins Sunday at sundown, and somehow it feels like we just finished clearing the Thanksgiving table. While Hanukkah is my second favorite holiday (Passover still wins for its storytelling, elaborate tablescapes and meaningful rituals) I can already smell Andrew’s homemade latkes that will fill our kitchen in just a few days. Nora has been quietly snooping around the house for weeks, and it’s nothing short of a miracle that, with her expert detective skills, she hasn’t uncovered any of her gifts. 

Hanukkah, at its core, is a celebration of miracles. The miracle of the oil lasting eight nights, yes, but even more, the miracle of Jewish survival. A story of resilience that feels as fresh and relevant today as it did more than two thousand years ago. 

A miracle is often defined as “an extraordinary event manifesting divine intervention in human affairs.” Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks, of blessed memory, once wrote that “A miracle is not the suspension of natural law but the acceleration of moral law.” Hanukkah reminds us that miracles happen when human courage meets divine possibilities. 

The Torah is full of miracles (many that we recall in the telling of the Passover story). The parting of the Sea of Reeds and our survival for 40 years in the wilderness are certainly a dramatic miracle, the kind that rewrite nature. But Rabbi Sacks also taught that the greater miracle is sometimes what happens within us. He wrote, “The real miracle is that despite everything, we did not lose hope.” And we have seen modern-day miracles as well.  

We saw it when Jews rebuilt a homeland from sand and swamp. We saw it in the airlifts from Yemen and Ethiopia that reunited families and revived ancient communities. We see it today when hostages come home, when communities halfway around the world mobilize in an instant, and when the light of Jewish unity shines in moments of deep darkness. 

But I believe, deeply, that miracles are not just stories of our past or headlines of extraordinary events. Miracles happen every day if we choose to look for them. 

They happen when a volunteer shows up for a neighbor in need. When a child beams with pride as they learn their first Hebrew letter. When a community celebrates a couple under the Chuppah. When an older adult finds care, dignity, and connection. When a donor gives with their heart because they believe in a Jewish future. When our community, Jewish St. Louis, strong and resilient, continues to stand proudly in our identity and purpose. 

The Hasidic masters teach that the oil of Hanukkah represents the purest part of the soul, the part that cannot be extinguished. No matter the pressure, no matter the challenge, that light endures. That is the miracle. 

As we enter Shabbat and prepare to light the first candle on Sunday night, may we each open our eyes to the quiet, daily miracles around us. And may the lights of Hanukkah bring renewal, courage, and hope to our homes and to the entire Jewish people. 

Shabbat Shalom and Chag Urim Sameach,