Opinion: This Hanukkah, we Jews could use your help

Editor’s Note: Amy Klein is the author of “The Trying Game: Get Through Fertility Treatment Without Losing Your Mind,” and is working on a book about older motherhood. The views expressed here are her own. Read more opinion on CNN.

“Would it be offensive/wrong to have a menorah in our home this Hanukkah, even though we’re not Jewish?” asked one Christian mom on my neighborhood Facebook group.

I understand her trepidation. In the last few years, many people have complained about cultural expropriation — taking customs of another culture. In this case, specifically, non-Jews expropriating our traditions, like Christians hosting Passover seders. “Christians already have their own celebrations of Jesus, they don’t need to steal Jewish ones and warp their meaning,” one Jewish mom said to me last year.

How different this Hanukkah is from other ones.

This year, many Jews are afraid to light their own menorahs or show their Judaism publicly by wearing a Star of David, say, for fear of being attacked.

From Williamsburg, Virginia to New Brunswick, Canada, public menorah lightings are being cancelled around the world, in some cases for fear of violence, in others because people say they want to be “inclusive.” (Funny, wasn’t the public menorah lighting tradition created as an inclusive complement to the barrage of Christmas activities?)

That’s why some have called for everyone to light menorahs, in a show of support for Jews.

“Anti-Semitism is up 388%. Jewish families are feeling isolated and scared. And our friends are asking how they can help,” states “Project Menorah,” a new initiative that encourages non-Jews to light candles for Hanukkah, started by Los Angeles actor Adam Kulbersh.

“My six-year-old saw all the Christmas decorations going up and he was so excited to put up Hanukkah decorations,” said Kulbersh, 50, a single father known for playing Sam’s dad on “Better Things.” When he told his son he wasn’t sure they would be putting up decorations or lighting a menorah in the window, “His face fell.”

“I was afraid,” he said, referencing antisemitism in Los Angeles, including swastikas painted on cars and graffiti showing up at local schools, synagogues and businesses.

But when Kulbersh mentioned the dilemma to his friend Jennifer Marshall, who is not Jewish, she said without hesitation, “We’re going to put a menorah in our window.”

Kulbersh felt an immediate sense of relief. “The weight that so many of us have felt these last two months was lifted,” he said.

The website went live last week, and has gotten tens of thousands of hits; the project has been adopted by people in over 22 countries, Kulbersh said, noting that if one Jewish family who is not comfortable putting up a menorah sees other allies lighting candles, “maybe they can celebrate Hanukkah without as much fear.”

Most of the moms in my local neighborhood Facebook group were supportive of the idea of non-Jews lighting menorahs. “People only get offended when they feel [that] it’s cultural appropriation, not when it’s a show of support and solidarity. (It was very thoughtful of you to ask!),” one mom replied to the woman who first posed the question.

“We need all the support we can muster these days,” another chimed in.

It’s fitting that people from another major religion are supporting Jews, as the holiday of Hanukkah celebrates when “Judea” (olden-day Israel) fought against their Greek-Syrian oppressors. The miracle was that the Jews won, and as legend goes, the oil used to light the candles in the temple lasted eight days. They lit that menorah to celebrate the victory and re-dedicate the temple. (Hanukkah means “dedication,” as in the re-dedication of the Temple, which had been desecrated.)

The first night of Hanukkah this year marks exactly two months since Hamas waged a brutal surprise attack on Israel, murdering 1,200 people, raping women and kidnapping 200. Since then, I’m struck by the continuing silence from certain quarters — women’s groups, for instance. The UN Women’s group only condemned the violence against women on Dec. 1.

In my own life, the silence from my non-Jewish friends and colleagues feels deafening. It has made me grateful for every single public support of Jews, from actors to people like my Italian Catholic friend who has been diligently hanging up posters of captured hostages, despite threats of violence.

This year, like Kulbersh and other Jews, I, too, am afraid. I’m afraid to wear my first Jewish star necklace; I am afraid to say the words “Hanukkah” or “Israel” or speak Hebrew in my New York workspace because you never know who is listening. I am afraid to attend very public Hanukkah events, which in the past posed only the threat that I would eat too many fried latkes or donuts.

In past holiday seasons, I felt like I was trying to show our daughter that our “minor” holiday — Hanukkah is less important for Jews than the High Holidays and Passover — was as good as the mega-showstopper that is Christmas.

But that seems trivial this year.

Maybe this year, Hanukkah is shedding its aspirations to be just as materialistic and front-and-center as Christmas, and is returning to its original sentiment: that we Jews are a tiny minority in the world, fighting for our existence and praying for a miracle.

Project Menorah, whose tagline is “Only Love Lives Here,” is asking every ally who lights a menorah this year to post it on social media. “The only thing that can defeat the darkness is light — please add yours to ours,” Kulbersh said.

Despite my fears, I am going to wear my Jewish star, attend public holiday gatherings and place our lit menorah in a space for the world to see.

This Hanukkah, I hope I can be a force of light in the world — a world without fear, without antisemitism, without war — and I welcome all those who will be a force with me.

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