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The popular book is more than just a fun kids’ book. It conveys a powerful message for adults about confronting evil and bringing light into darkness.
Eric Kimmel’s Hershel and the Hanukkah Goblins (available at every JCC library) has become a beloved Hanukkah tale — whimsical, a little eerie, and profoundly Jewish at heart.
Hershel, a wandering Jew, wanders upon a Jewish village on Hanukkah and notices that no one is lighting Hanukkah candles. The villagers tell him that a group of goblins have been tormenting the village during the Hanukkah and the only way to stop them is to get the king of the Goblins to light the Hanukkah candles himself.
Hershel, the brave adventurer, treks to the shul on top of the hill to defeat the Goblins. Each night of Hanukkah a different goblin comes to stop him from lighting Hanukkah candles and each night Hershel outsmarts them. He convinces one Goblin he’s super strong by crushing an egg which he convinces the goblin is a rock. Hershel thwarts another goblin by playing into the goblin’s greed and getting his hand stuck in a pickle jar.
Finally, Hershel is visited the last night by the King of Goblins and Hershel has a plan. There are no lights in the synagogue and when the imposing silhouette of the King of the Goblin appears, Hershel remains stoic. “It is I, the King of the Goblins!” the imposing figure announces.
Hershel remains unmoved, “Don’t be silly, you’re one of the boys from the village—you’re trying to scare me.”
Frustrated the King of Goblins tries to figure out how he can convince Hershel that he is, in fact, the King of the Goblins.
“It’s too dark,” Hershel says, “if you want to convince me you need to make it brighter.” So, the King of the Goblins lights some candles. Unbeknownst to the King, these are Hanukkah candles and with that the Goblins reign of terror is ended.
It’s a charming story for children but beneath its playfulness lies a piercing truth. Every person and every generation face their own monsters: fear, hatred and despair. The goblins are never really gone; they simply change their masks. Rabbi Tzadok HaKohen of Lublin taught that in the very place where one struggles most lies the deepest potential for transformation. It’s precisely in darkness that the capacity for light is born.
Hanukkah’s message is to proactively kindle the light during the night and not to wait for the dawn.
The very embodiment of evil is tricked into becoming an agent of light.
In Hershel’s story, the turning point comes when the King of the Goblins bellows, “It is I, the King of the Goblins!” and Hershel calmly replies, “Don’t be silly; you’re one of the boys from the village.” The only way the monster can prove his power, Hershel says, is by lighting candles so he can be seen. And so, the very embodiment of evil is tricked into becoming an agent of light. The transformation is complete.
That is the essence of Jewish resilience. Jews do not merely endure darkness; they redeem it.
Since October 7th, this insight feels heartbreakingly relevant. The goblins came again, this time not from storybooks but from tunnels and skies, determined to extinguish Jewish light. Yet, just as in Hershel’s tale, light answered darkness.
You see it in the faces of the families of hostages who, despite unimaginable pain, never stopped praying, advocating, and hoping. You saw young soldiers who paused amid battle to light menorahs built from tank shells and spent casings, the flames dancing against the backdrop of smoke. You have seen it in the small, defiant acts of Jewish life — Torah study resumed in shelters, challah baked for soldiers, children learning in temporary classrooms.
One hostage, released after weeks in captivity, described whispering the Shema each night and picturing the candles her family would light without her. “That image,” she said, “kept me alive.”
Eric Kimmel once said of his book, “Hershel defeats the goblins without magic or superpowers. If kids think superheroes will save the day, we’re lost. All we have are the powers within us.”
The true miracle of Hanukkah is not that oil burned longer than expected; it’s that human courage and faith keep burning when reason says they shouldn’t have.
Hanukkah invites you to look your own monsters in the eye — fear, cynicism, weariness — and to answer them with light. The Maccabees lit what little oil they had. Hershel didn’t run from the goblins; he faced them with humor and resolve.
You can continue that legacy. Each candle you light broadcasts a Jewish truth:
You tried to frighten us — but we are still here.
You tried to silence us — but our songs and prayers have endured.
You tried to darken our world — but our light continues to grow stronger.
May the lights you kindle this year remind you that even the smallest flame of faith, courage, or kindness can transform the deepest night into the beginning of dawn.
I have not been aware of this book. I don’t have young children, but I will look for it in the library. And this was a great article, thanks.
This book was a very special part of my children's childhood--my grandchildren are getting for Chanukah this year. It is just one little light in the darkness.
Indeed the book is for a child.
In an adult world, it is currently a world of hardness, and hostility; a never ending state of war.
It is better to stand upright, resolute; and, steadfast.
Live, or die; there is no other real way through.
You are the bright light of Chanukah.