Menorahs on the Move

PITTSBURGH, PA — I couldn’t count how many odd stares I received yesterday.

Maybe it was the Hanukkah music playing through loudspeakers of our RV-turned-Hanukkah Mobile, maybe it was the teenage boys in the back with me who wished everyone we saw a Happy Hanukkah and passed out menorahs, dreidels and chocolate from the moving vehicle.

Regardless of what it was, Pittsburgh pedestrians certainly weren’t expecting the Hanukkah Parade to come rolling through the city’s East End.

People — in stores, walking down the street, and in their cars — stopped what they were doing and stared, their mouths either open with surprise or perked into a smile.

This Pittsburgh Hanukkah tradition, now in its fourth year, isn’t like other ones.
About 80 cars, minivans and SUVs strapped menorahs to their roofs and trudged through the wet streets of Oakland, Shadyside and Squirrel Hill yesterday, the sixth night of Hanukkah.

Police blocked traffic as we slowly steered through the streets and tossed menorahs to people on the sidewalk. At least 20 were lobbed to people along Forbes Avenue in Oakland alone, usually hitting the pavement with a splash rather than a thud. One driver sidled up next to us like an airplane pilot refueling in midair as the boys, students at Yeshiva Schools, handed him a menorah.

“We’re spreading the light to the communities of Pittsburgh,” said Rabbi Yisroel Altein, Chabad outreach coordinator for the school and one of the parade’s directors.

On each of the eight nights of Hanukkah, Jews around the world light a candle on the menorah, a nine-stemmed candelabra.

The story of Hanukkah, the Jewish Festival of Lights, started with a war between Jews and Antiochus IV, king of the Syrian empire. During the war, the Temple in Jerusalem was desecrated, destroying almost all of the olive oil used to light the menorah. At the temple’s rededication, there was only enough consecrated oil to burn for one day. But the oil burned for eight days — enough time for them to make more purified oil. It was considered a miracle.

In the back of the RV, the boys sang along with Hanukkah music, spun dreidels and laughed about the occasion.

When we ended up in West Homestead at The Waterfront, hot latkes (potato pancakes) helped warm our frigid bodies. County Executive Dan Onorato aided in lighting a 12-foot menorah, while men danced in celebration of the festive holiday.

Altein said the point of the parade was two-fold: To spread awareness and because the lights of Hanukkah menorahs symbolize using light to illuminate darkness.

“The streets of the world are filled with unfortunate occurrences,” he said. “We try to bring light to the streets of Pittsburgh to bring happiness and joy.”

In the back of the RV, the boys and I had enough happiness and joy for all of Pittsburgh.

And just enough menorahs.