During the wee hours of Sunday morning, December 8, 1996, after the third night of Hanukkah, someone took a baseball bat, and broke the front window of a house in Newtown, Pennsylvania. It might have been considered simple vandalism by the local police except for one significant factor: this house was the only one on the street with a lighted menorah in the window. The perpetrator had deliberately reached through the shattered window, took the menorah and smashed it on the ground, breaking all nine bulbs.

The menorah is a symbol of the eight-day Jewish Festival of Lights, also known as Hanukkah, which occurs around the same time as Christmas. As a Nativity scene reminds Christians of their heritage and faith, a menorah does so for Jews. It is the symbol of a miracle.

The woman who lives in the house in Newtown did not think of miracles when she found the shattered mess in her front yard. It was not the first time she and her family had been targeted. As a child, she had come to the United States to escape persecution in the former Soviet Union. But now as she viewed the smashed candelabra, the familiar fear returned.

Lisa Keeling, a young mother, lives down the street and heard about the incident when she and her family returned from Sunday mass. “A neighbor left a message on my answering machine,” Lisa says. She was appalled. She had never heard of anyone in Newtown being singled out because of their faith or ethnicity. But an idea was taking root. “I’d like to buy a menorah and put it in our front window, so that family will know they’re not going through this alone,” she told her husband. “If the vandals come back, they’ll have us to target too. What do you think?”

Lisa’s husband didn’t hesitate. “Go for it,” he said.

Lisa returned her neighbor’s call, and told him about her idea. “Why don’t you contact Margie Alexander?” He suggested. “She’s doing the same thing.”

Margie lived around the corner, and was involved in the Neighborhood Watch program. She had been as horrified as Lisa when she heard the news, and was now driving from store to store looking for menorahs. “But they’re almost impossible to find by now,” she told Lisa over her car phone. Lisa began calling stores from home, then relaying locations where the candelabras were available to Margie. “Buy as many as you can,” she suggested, since several Christian neighbors had dropped by, asking for instructions on where to purchase, and how to display, a menorah. Word was getting around.

Sundown-the time for lighting—had almost arrived by the time Margie sped home, and distributed all that she had located. “I took down the Christmas lights in one of my windows, and put the menorah there, all by itself,” Lisa recalls. “I didn’t want there to be any doubt about the statement we were making.” Was she prepared for trouble? “Maybe,” she says. “It passes through your mind. But it’s just something you do.”

That night when the Jewish neighbor turned onto her street, she stopped in amazement. Greeting her was a sea of orange lights, shining in silent solidarity, from the windows of all eighteen Christian households on her block. We are with you. The warm glow seemed to say. Blinking back tears, she went home, replaced the broken bulbs in her own menorah and put it back up in her window.

The vandals did not damage any property that night. Eventually police arrested three teenage boys, who admitted that the neighborhood’s unexpected show of strength and unity had deterred them from further activity. But they were not the only people affected. As the days of Hanukkah went on, Christian families from nearby blocks began to display menorahs alongside their wreaths and Nativity scenes. “I’d drive past and see a menorah in someone’s window and think: ‘Wait-I see that family at church-they’re not Jewish.’ Then it would dawn on me that they were supporting us as we supported the people on my block,” Lisa recalls.

Margie and Lisa are still amazed at all the attention they received because of what to them seems “something any caring person would do.” But each year they now display their menorahs. “It’s become a cherished part of my Christmas,” Margie says, “because it represents a wonderful lesson I’ve learned: Just one little step in the right direction can have a domino effect. It can make life better for everyone.”

Joan Anderson Copyrighted by Joan Wester Anderson, used with permission. Originally appeared on the Where Angels Walk website, http://joanwanderson.com