The Magic of Mt. Rushmore

Last night, we lit the second light of the menorah at Mt. Rushmore. What never ceases to amaze me is how every year, I encounter fellow Jews who just happen to be visiting the monument, completely unaware that a menorah lighting is taking place at the same time.
Given the chilly weather and slower tourism season, these moments feel nothing short of extraordinary. Yet, every year for the past eight years, I’ve experienced these serendipitous encounters. 
Last night was no exception. In fact, several “random” Jews just happened to be there. As I was arriving at the site carrying parts of the menorah, a family of five excitedly rushed up to me. They could hardly believe their eyes. “A menorah at Mt. Rushmore!” exclaimed the little girl, while her father eagerly took out his phone to capture the moment. The girl was thrilled to receive a goody bag filled with Chanukah treats, including sufganiyot, a dreidel, and gelt.
There were also two students from Carleton College who happened to be visiting. For Jake, it was his first time lighting a menorah this year. Meanwhile, Sam engaged me in a quick game of Jewish geography—or more specifically, “rabbinic geography”—as we discovered mutual acquaintances.
But perhaps the most touching encounter was with a woman and her teenage son from Atlanta. As I led the menorah lighting, I noticed the two standing nearby, carefully following the ceremony and paying close attention to every word. I wasn’t sure if they were Jewish or simply curious onlookers. We are blessed to live in a country where we can practice our religion openly and proudly, and many non-Jews find inspiration in Chanukah's universal message of freedom, morality and light.
After the ceremony, I approached them with a warm “Happy Chanukah!” The mom smiled and shared that they were Jewish. She told me she hadn’t lit a menorah this year—or in several years—and her son had never lit one in his life. Always prepared for such moments, I offered them a menorah to take back to their hotel. They gladly accepted, and that evening, a light was re-kindled—not just on the menorah, but in their hearts.
As we gathered around the menorah, its warm glow flickering against the iconic backdrop of Mt. Rushmore, a sense of Jewish pride and celebration filled the air. The unexpected presence of these “random” Jews added an extra layer of significance. It was not just a celebration of the Chanukah lights but also a rekindling of the eternal light that burns within every Jewish soul.
When the Rebbe initiated the campaign for public menorah lightings, he wrote that these events have the power to bring Jews back to their roots. “I personally know of scores [of such people],” the Rebbe stated, “and I have good reason to believe that in recent years, hundreds, even thousands, of Jews experience a rekindling of their inner Jewish spark through the public kindling of the Chanukah menorah.”
This year marks 50 years since Chabad began organizing public menorah lightings. In that first year, there were just two. This year, I’m told, there are over fifteen thousand around the world. During this time, much has changed in the Jewish landscape. While some may have had hesitation or skepticism about public displays of faith and Jewish pride, the results over the past half-century speak for themselves. Last night at Mt. Rushmore, we witnessed it once again.