MORRIS, Ill.—Located 70 miles southwest from Chicago, Morris is a lovely town with a beautiful downtown, replete with quaint boutiques, a stately post office and an imposing courthouse. With a population of nearly 14,000—not many of them Jewish—it is surrounded by a sea of cornfields and rural communities.
On Monday, residents of Morris and surrounding towns gathered in front of the Grundy County Courthouse for the second annual public menorah-lighting there. Representing Lubavitch Chabad of Illinois, my children and I were honored to join them. We pulled into town in grand style—in a minivan bearing three young children (who were very excited to have been yanked out of school for the afternoon), two bochurim (rabbinical students), 32 doughnuts (in four flavors: caramel, chocolate, jelly and custard) and a pile of boxed menorah kits.
How did it happen that a town with no synagogue and barely a handful of Jews merited a grand menorah on the courthouse lawn?
It was the product of an assistant state’s attorney who is proud of his Jewish heritage, a sheriff who relishes religious freedom and a group of kind clergymen who arranged to have a lovely menorah custom-built for the town.
After nearly two hours in the car, the kids and I were ready to stretch our legs and enjoy the frosty outdoors. They were immediately drawn to the grand cannons that grace the courthouse lawn. While my 7-year-old kept busy with an interesting-looking stick that he had found, the girls (ages 5 and 6) amused themselves with the bullhorn and lantern that had been set up for the evening ceremony.
My children were especially proud to be taking part in a tradition that has transformed the way Jewish people celebrate Chanukah. Forty-two years ago, there was one public menorah in all of the United States; now there are thousands of them in state capitals, shopping malls, city halls, firehouses, public parks and even on the White House lawn.
Prompted by campaign initiated by the Rebbe—Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory—and undertaken by Chabad-Lubavitch emissaries, public menorah-lightings have become a common feature of modern Chanukah celebrations around the world.
With just a few minutes to 5 o’clock, the crowd began to grow. Families came from surrounding communities, greeting each other and noting where they came from, each delighted to discover fellow members of the tribe. We bantered about this and that, and took photos on our phones, the flashes temporarily lighting the growing darkness.
Finally, the clock struck five; it was time to light the menorah.
The gleaming menorah stands a little more than 4 feet tall, and is topped with electric lights fashioned to look like flames.
Using a tiny glasses’ screwdriver, the taller shamash candle in the center was lit, and then three more on the right side for the third night of the eight-day holiday.
Taking the bullhorn, I shared some holiday thoughts. I kept them brief—mindful of the plunging temperature—focusing on Chanukah’s empowering message of miracles and freedom to worship G‑d.
In an effort to create a Chanukah miracle of my own, I attempted to light a real menorah, so that we could fulfill the actual mitzvah, but the wind was too strong. I couldn’t get a match to burn long enough kindle the candles, let alone to create a sustained flame that would burn more than a few seconds.
Thankfully, that didn’t dampen anyone’s spirits, and we all joined together to sing some classic Chanukah songs. Jews of all ages and all backgrounds sang, “I Have a Little Dreidel” and “Chanukah, Oh Chanukah.”
The rabbinical students distributed menorah kits and doughnuts before everyone piled back into their cars—glad to be out of the cold, but even gladder to have participated in such a special ceremony.
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