Hollywood Rabbis Prepare for Fraught Hanukkah: “This Is the First Time I’ve Seen People Really Afraid”

The entertainment industry’s rabbis say that in the eight weeks since Oct. 7 — a horrific chapter in Jewish history encompassing Hamas’ massacre, Israel’s ensuing Gaza invasion and the worldwide response to it all — their congregations have been roiled by crises of identity and safety not experienced in America since the Holocaust.

These faith leaders tell The Hollywood Reporter that, on the eve of Hanukkah (for many a Christmas-adjacent holiday of gift-giving, but also more consequentially the commemoration of a biblical battle over Jewishness in the land now known as Israel) their temples’ members are confronting anew millennia-old questions about assimilation, anti-Semitism and the fraught notion of Jewish power itself.

“This has been the hardest period for the Jewish people since the Shoah,” says Rabbi Joshua Aaronson of Temple Judea in Tarzana, using the Hebrew word for the Holocaust. He observes that for many Jews, especially those self-identified liberals and progressives whose faith may be most felt through the social-justice concept of tikkun olam, or repairing the world, there’s been a sense of shock in what they see as a lack of solidarity among their circles in their own time of need. “It’s like they’ve been hit with a two-by-four.”

This Hollywood rabbinate explains that local synagogues have for decades required visible, often armed security. (Before the 2018 Pittsburgh Tree of Life hate crime, which killed 11 people, there was the L.A. Jewish Community Center shooting in 1999, in which a white supremacist fired 70 bullets with an Uzi, wounding five before then killing a mail carrier.)

Even before Oct. 7, anti-Semitism had spiked to unprecedented levels in recent years, according to the L.A. chapter of the Anti-Defamation League. Yet Jews are now wondering if they are putting themselves at personal risk with outward displays of their identity, whether a mezuzah at their home’s front door, a menorah in their window during Hanukkah, or a Star of David pendant draped around their neck. “This is the first time I’ve seen people really afraid,” say Rabbi Keara Stein of Temple Beth Hillel in Valley Village.

But for Rabbi Adam Kligfield of mid-city’s Temple Beth Am, the time has never been more important to defiantly celebrate one’s Jewish identity, though being mindful of the risks. “It’s like that Groucho Marx line: ‘Just because I’m paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t out to get me.’ My message to the congregation is that this is not a time to be brazen or stupid but it is a time to double down on Jewish pride.”

Many among the creative community’s Jews are caught between polarized extremes. On one end, hyper-jingoistic Zionism. On the other, all-excusing pro-Palestinianism. Their own feelings often encompass fierce criticisms of the Israeli government’s actions, loathing of Hamas and sympathy for the plight of innocents on all sides of the conflict.

There is no question that the moment, in all its devastations and complexities, has been galvanizing for Hollywood’s Jews. “We’re seeing that people are wanting to connect with the Jewish community and the synagogue and Jewish life,” says Rabbi Amy Bernstein of Pacific Palisades’ Kehillat Israel. “We are seeing an uptick in people wanting to convert to Judaism — even people who have been living a Jewish life for 15 years who’ve decided that ‘now I want to make it official.’”

Amid the ongoing conflict, these rabbis intend to lean into Hanukkah’s core meaning during this year’s observance, which begins Dec. 7. The holiday is “about keeping hope alive, a promise for a better future,” explains Barry Lutz, interim rabbi at Congregation Kol Ami, a reform synagogue in West Hollywood centered on the LGBTQ community. “It’s about the miracle of the human spirit prevailing in even the darkest times.”

Rabbi David Baron of Beverly Hills Temple of the Arts at the Saban Theatre — a congregation that caters to L.A.’s creative community and offered free High Holy Days services to striking members of the WGA and SAG-AFTRA — notes that this Hanukkah will be a more somber one “mixed with joy and sadness, as we pray for [the remaining] hostages and mourn the souls of the innocent murdered on Oct. 7.”

Baron says a reckoning has come via social media and the realization that longtime friends may hold views about the conflict that are personally untenable. “Can you condemn rape, murder and torture? That’s my acid test,” he says. “If you can’t make that statement, you’ve lost a very important point of humanity, which is compassion. If you won’t acknowledge that, I can’t have a relationship with you. I block people, unfortunately.”

Ultimately, this Hanukkah will offer a moment to step away from the headlines, the social media posts, and to reflect and commune with family on what it means to be Jewish. “I feel like no one has had a chance to sit or breathe for two months,” says Rabbi Daniel Sher, who works alongside Rabbi Bernstein at Kehillat Israel. “I think Hanukkah is going to be a really welcomed moment for a lot of people. There’s something about lighting the candles and being in the room. I’m hoping that it gives people a chance to exhale before they flip right back to their phones and keep scrolling.”