Here’s My Story: You May Be Right, But Don’t Fight

Rabbi Yisroel Brod

Click here for a PDF version of this edition of Here’s My Story, or visit the My Encounter Blog.

As a young, newly-married man, I was offered a position as one of the Rebbe’s emissaries. This was in 1977, a time when there were only a small number of us in existence – now there are thousands – and I was posted in Bergen County, answering to Rabbi Moshe Herson, who headed Chabad activities in all of New Jersey. The Rebbe gave his blessing, and I went off with great enthusiasm, setting up Jewish outreach programs and events.

One of our first programs was aimed at encouraging girls to light Shabbat candles, which was a huge success with thousands of participants. Then, at Chanukah time in 1980, we decided to light a Chanukah menorah in Hackensack, the county seat. The town council gave us immediate approval, the fire department provided a “cherry picker” so we could reach the top of the menorah for the lighting, and we got a nice turnout. Each night, some important personage in the community was chosen for the lighting, plus we had joyous singing and dancing. It was a beautiful event, well covered by the local press.

As far as I was concerned, everybody was happy, but it turned out not to be so. A few months after, I got a call from a woman representing the Teaneck Jewish Community Council, an umbrella organization made up of the leaders of the various Jewish groups in Teaneck. I thought she was calling to invite me to stage a public Chanukah lighting ceremony in her town as well, but it turned out she was calling to protest such ceremonies. She said that the Teaneck Jewish Community Council had fought to prohibit any religious displays on public property, and they thought that Jewish symbols, in particular, should stay under the radar.

Now, I was young, energetic and stupid. Her argument only caused me to resolve to put up a Chanukah menorah in Teaneck. As a result, a big war ensued, which was not very pleasant, to say the least. But, in my defense, I must say that because I forced an examination of this issue, many positive things happened in the end.

As things got heated, the Rebbe was brought into the picture, and he responded in writing, explaining that this issue was not new. He noted that the constitutionality of public menorahs had been fully examined many years ago, that there was overwhelming support for the idea, and that, as a result, “gigantic Chanukah menorahs” stood on public property in Manhattan, in Washington, the nation’s capital, as well as Philadelphia, the birthplace of America’s independence, and many cities throughout the United States.

Furthermore, he wrote, it had long been recognized that the “public Chanukah menorah is a positive thing because of its universal message of freedom of the human spirit, freedom from tyranny and oppression, and of the ultimate victory of good over evil, just as ‘a little light dispels a lot of darkness.’ These fundamental human aspirations and principles, as visibly symbolized by kindling the Chanukah lights, are surely shared by the vast majority of Americans.”

“Indeed,” the Rebbe continued, “so enthusiastically welcome has the public Chanukah menorah been that its inaugurals have been graced by the personal participation of the President of the United States in Washington, and of the highest city and state officials and dignitaries wherever the Chanukah menorah made its annual appearance.”

Unfortunately, the Jewish Community Council of Teaneck did not accept that argument. And they responded with a letter of their own, stressing the pain Christian religious displays and events had caused their members and their children. After twenty-five years of fighting, they had managed to have these displays removed from the public sphere, and so now “it would be ludicrous and ridiculous for the Jewish community to accept the presence of a Jewish religious object on township property,” they wrote. “We do not want to jeopardize the peaceful co-existence of the Jewish community with its non-Jewish neighbors.”

As, by this time, we had arrived at the first week of December, with Chanukah imminent, the Rebbe sent them a letter by special delivery, in which he expressed amazement at their position, since the lighting of the Chanukah menorah was not an issue any place else.

Unfortunately, they were still not persuaded. They insisted that whatever happened elsewhere did not apply to Teaneck.

The Rebbe made his final case in a five-page letter which I cannot just summarize – it deserves not only to be read in full, but to be studied with care. Indeed, the points the Rebbe made in it have been studied and applied by many Chabad emissaries throughout the United States.

The gist of it was to encourage the Jews of Teaneck not to hide their Jewishness. The Rebbe gave a host of reasons why Jews – who have been granted many rights in America, historically not available to them elsewhere – should not do so. He wrote:

“Under such circumstances, if the minority voluntarily gives up certain privileges which it once enjoyed, not to mention if it voluntarily forgoes a certain right which the same minority enjoys elsewhere – it is bound to be regarded as a sign of weakness and an admission that it is not really entitled to it at all.”

In other words, giving up certain rights on the local level could have the effect of weakening the Jewish community’s position in the United States overall. Then the Rebbe went on to explain what he called “the essential point”: Why do we need a Chanukah menorah on public property?

“Experience has shown that the Chanukah menorah, displayed publicly during the eight days of Chanukah, has been an inspiration to many, many Jews and evoked in them a spirit of identity with their Jewish people and the Jewish way of life. To many others it has brought a sense of pride in their Yiddishkeit, and the realization that there is no reason, really, in this free country, to hide one’s Jewishness, as if it were contrary or inimical to American life and culture.”

Knowing that the Rebbe was on my side, I resolved to erect a menorah in Teaneck next Chanukah, and if they wouldn’t let me, to take them to court.

Rabbi Herson disagreed, and he urged me to be careful. Together, we wrote to the Rebbe about it.

In his response, the Rebbe made it clear that I should never have started this war among Jews in the first place. He wrote that allowing it to come to this point was an act of “the greatest negligence,” and going to court was not an option.

Besides for admonishing me, the Rebbe also gave me guidance on how to proceed. He suggested that I approach the various cities in New Jersey quietly. That way, if the reaction to putting up a Chanukah menorah was negative, I would be able to drop the idea without instigating opposition. But if my overtures were well received, I could go ahead wholeheartedly.

And that is what I did. Little by little, I had success. I recall vividly when we put up a Chanukah menorah in Trenton, the capital of New Jersey. Even the governor came to the ceremony. By the next Chanukah, there were fifteen towns within my county that were lighting menorahs on public property and, from there, the custom spread to other parts of the state. It took some time, but eventually even Teaneck joined in.

And, today, this has become a world-wide practice for which we have to thank the wisdom of the Rebbe.

After serving as a Chabad emissary in New Jersey for eleven years, Rabbi Yisroel Brod moved to Israel where he worked on expanding and developing Chabad’s outreach activities. Presently, he serves as a consultant and coach to Chabad emissaries worldwide. He was interviewed in November 2023.

The Rebbe’s letters concerning this controversy can be accessed at chabad.org/menorahletters.