"And there was found a Jew to approach the altar with an offering.
"But that same day, the old Maccabeus, with his five sons, had come down from the hills, and before the Greek soldiers could intervene, the miserable apostate was lying in his blood, and the altar was torn down. In one second the rebellion was ablaze. The Maccabees, with a handful of men, drove out the far more numerous Greek garrisons. The people were set free!
"It is that victory we celebrate with our poor, little illumination, with our Chanukah lights."
"What?" and the old man, trembling with rage, springs out of his chair. "That is the Chanukah light? Come here, wretched boy!" he screams to his grandson, who, instead of obeying, shrinks from him in terror.
The old man brings his fist down on the table, so that the glasses ring again.
"It means—when we had driven out the unclean sons of Javan, there was only one little cruse of holy olive-oil left...."
But a fit of coughing stops his breath, and his son hastens up, and assists him into the next room.
I wish to leave, but she detains me.
"You are against assimilation, then?" she asks.
"To assimilate," I reply, "is to consume, to eat, to digest. We assimilate beef and bread, and others wish to assimilate us—to eat us up like bread and meat."