You could be forgiven for thinking that Jews give gifts on Hanukkah because of the holiday’s proximity to Christmas. After all, what kid minds not having a festive tree if the alternative is eight nights of presents?
Our sources, however, suggest a relationship between gift-giving and the Hanukkah season that precedes modern Christmas traditions. For starters, Hanukkah itself means ‘dedication’ — referencing the Maccabees’ re-dedication of the Temple in 164 BCE. When, some centuries later, the rabbis of the Talmud assigned the Torah portions to be read on festivals, they designated Numbers 7 for Hanukkah. In this lengthy chapter, read bit by bit over the eight days, the heads of the Israelite tribes help consecrate the Tabernacle (Mishkan).
How do they do this? By bringing gifts.
The gifts that the chieftains bring are of practical use to the shrine: sacral utensils, incense and other offerings, as well as carts and oxen to help transport the movable Tabernacle. However, in describing these offerings in great detail, the Torah lays down an ancient link between gift-giving and Hanukkah, and hints at the reasoning. When we are dedicated to something (emotionally, intellectually), we devote our resources — time, attention, material donations — to it. I am sure the synagogues or other not-for-profits you are connected to have told you this! And indeed, both the word “dedicate” and the word “devote” carry this double meaning, implying contribution as well as care.
In the Torah, the fact that each biblical prince makes exactly the same gift indicates parity between the tribes. The sum of their donations is necessary for the tabernacle to have what it needs, and all are equally important — a truth we amplify by reading each identical list of items individually as the days go by.
Synagogues sometimes aim for 100 percent participation among their members in fundraising efforts, and this is a noble goal reflecting an important principle: that everyone’s contribution matters, and contributing at all is what matters most. Recent U.S. political history has shown that small donations from a broad base can boost major candidates, even in the era of big-money super PACs.
That said, we also know that people make very large contributions not only to benefit recipients but also to boost their own prestige. Each of the chieftains is explicitly named on the parchment alongside the details of their gift — the ancient equivalent of that plaque on the donor wall. As David Graeber and David Wengrow detail in The Dawn of Everything, their fascinating anthropological history of humanity, prestige-giving has long been tied to receiving loyalty and honor. The potlatch feasts of the Pacific Northwest are perhaps the most famous example of consolidating power through largesse; here, through “performing magnificent feats of generosity,” tribal leaders not only fed their communities but also overawed their political rivals.
Interestingly, the idea that giving ennobles the giver and bonds giver and recipient also appears in the weekly Torah portions read near Hanukkah. In Parashat Vayishlach, Jacob presents lavish offerings to his estranged brother, Esau, not only to appease him, but also to signal Jacob’s status. Decades later, in Parashat Miketz, even in the midst of a severe famine, he sends gifts to the vizier of Egypt, “a little balsam, a little honey, balm and laudanum, pistachio nuts and almonds” (Genesis 43:11) in the hopes of forming better relations with the man who has the power to feed them all.
Gifts certainly reflect well on the giver, but they also make the recipient feel special — and all the more so if they come from someone important. In the Hasidic tradition, Hanukkah gelt is given not just to children by their relatives, but to students by their teachers, a way for the rebbe to recognize and encourage each learner. Gelt-giving probably also echoes the tradition, once widespread among both Ashkenazi and Sephardi Jewry, of using the holiday to collect extra tzedakah. According to some sources, going door-to-door for donations was permitted only on Hanukkah and its sister holiday, Purim.
Sometimes these collections were to increase alms to the poor, sometimes to raise payment for clergy and other Jewish professionals, sometimes an opportunity for students to bring gifts to their teachers, and sometimes a chance to provide for the needs of the students themselves. (The Renaissance Sephardi custom of providing new coats for students at this time was so ingrained that the Shabbat of Hanukkah was known as Shabbat Halbashah, the sabbath of clothing.)
All of these instances reflect not only a history of giving at Hanukkah but also the web of community ties reinforced by such gifts. It is interesting to note that the last example, of giving clothing to students, also echoes the most famous gift mentioned in this season’s Torah portions: Joseph’s coat of many colors. The gift of a doting father, this expensive garment not only reflects the status of the giver, but also that he sees this son as particularly gifted, which is to say, blessed with unusual abilities.
Gifts are one way we show that we care about one another, and Jacob made a famous error in singling out just one child for his show of affection. Perhaps the traditional custom of giving not presents but rather gelt, equal small gifts of money to all one’s children or students, reinforces our commitment to equality, just as Numbers 7 underscores the equality of the tribes. For whether in this moment we are blessed to give or blessed to receive, we are all of us living gifts of the earth, all of us invaluable, all immeasurably gifted.
This article initially appeared in My Jewish Learning’s Shabbat newsletter Recharge on December 20, 2025. To sign up to receive Recharge each week in your inbox, click here.
