“This holiday season, allow yourself to be taken back to a time when you were 5 years old, and it was a bit easier to believe in miracles.”

A great miracle can happen here

Story and photo by Rebecca Levin

Recently, while waiting in the Orlando airport with our 5-year-old daughter, Hannah, my husband and I noticed an older gentleman walking towards us. He sported a meticulously groomed long, white beard and was wearing a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt.
“Have you been a good girl this year?” he asked Hannah.
“Yes,” she replied cautiously.

“You know,” he said,” I am him. See, look at my ring.” He held out his hand, adorned with a large, gold ring, and in the middle of the impressive red stone were the engraved initials, S.C.

S.C.? Taking a closer look at this gentleman, I suddenly realized that we had presumably run into Santa as he returned from a well-deserved pre-holiday vacation. And indeed, Santa appeared as we would expect him to while on vacation—clad in tropical attire and accompanied by an attractive, middle-aged woman.

“I’m Santa Claus,” he said. “You be good, and don’t forget my milk and cookies this Christmas.”
“OK,” nodded Hannah, with a notably serious tone to her reply.

My husband and I looked at each other in amazement. This was the same child who, during the last holiday season, began responding to each friendly, “Merry Christmas,” with the statement, “Thank you, but I celebrate Hanukkah.”

Yet when encountering Santa Claus face-to-face, she was visibly in awe and felt no need to bring up this fact. I mean, of all people, Santa was the one person who could have benefited from this information.
Instead, she looked at us and said, “That was Santa Claus.”

I was intrigued. This surely could have been an opportunity for her to showcase a bit of pre-schooler logic, but instead it was replaced with this brief moment of awe. Was it the post-Disney-vacation sense of magic? Only two days before, we had dined with Sleeping Beauty, Snow White and Belle, all in the span of 45 minutes. Perhaps meeting Santa Claus at the airport didn’t seem like such a far–fetched idea.
Or was our daughter at the age where, even though she was beginning to understand reality, she was still young enough to allow herself a moment to just “believe”?

Do you know that feeling? As adults, it’s rare that we encounter it, but during the winter holiday season, many of us are given this opportunity, and it stretches across religious boundaries. It’s the opportunity not to doubt the past events that became the source for prayer and celebration, but to embrace the prospect that miracles can happen. It’s a break from reality, when we, too, can believe.

Hanukkah is a wonderful example of a Jewish celebration rooted in the belief that miracles can happen. It takes us back to the land of Judea, which at the time was ruled by a Syrian King, Antiochus. He ordered the Jewish people to reject their religion and beliefs and, instead, worship the Greek gods. Judah Maccabee was one of the few who refused to bow down. After forming an army and fighting the Syrians for three years, Judah and his followers finally succeeded in driving them out of Israel and reclaiming the Temple in Jerusalem. After rededicating the Temple, they attempted to light the eternal light, still present in every synagogue today; once lit, the eternal oil lamp must not be extinguished. But only a small container of oil could be found, perhaps enough for one day. Then a miracle took place, as that small amount of oil stayed lit for not one, not two, but eight days. That is how we came to celebrate Hanukkah, also known as “The Festival of Lights.”

This eight-day celebration is rich with tradition. Lighting the menorah each night symbolizes the eternal light in the Temple and marks the eight days of the holiday. Traditional Hanukkah foods are also cooked in oil, such as potato pancakes and doughnuts. The driedal, a four-sided spinning top, is engraved with Hebrew letters that stand for, “A great miracle happened there.”

Today, that miracle may seem difficult to believe, but this celebration needn’t be a time to wonder if the oil really lasted for eight days. It’s a time to build upon family traditions and invite friends to join in the celebration. Whether it’s a game of driedal with the kids (competing for the biggest pile of M&M’s or Red Hots), eating yet another jelly doughnut, or spending a moment simply gazing at the lights of the menorah, yesterday’s miracle is today’s gift.

So this holiday season, regardless of which holiday you celebrate, let yourself be the recipient of this gift. Try to leave behind any cynical thoughts rooted in the commercialism that often envelops the holiday season. Tuck away pessimism of the uncertainty in the world today. Allow yourself to be taken back to a time when you were 5 years old, and it was a bit easier to believe in miracles.

Chattanooga writer Rebecca Levin is the mother of Hannah, 5 (pictured).