Hanukkah isn’t one of Judaism’s three major festivals, and here’s why.

Understanding the Big Three: Passover, Yom Kippur, Rosh Hashanah — and Hanukkah’s place

If you’re exploring religious life with a curious eye, one of the first big moves is to map out how communities mark time. Festivals aren’t just parties with candles and candles’ glow; they’re living expressions of memory, belief, and shared identity. In Judaism, there’s a well-known trio often labeled the three major festivals: Passover (Pesach), Yom Kippur, and Rosh Hashanah. Hanukkah, while celebrated with joy in homes and schools around the world, sits outside that trio. It’s important to understand why, so you can see how scholars talk about the calendar, ritual emphasis, and communal priorities.

Let me explain what makes these festivals feel “major” in the first place.

Passover: liberation, liturgy, and a family table that travels through time

Passover is anchored in a single, dramatic moment: the Exodus from Egypt. It’s not just a historical memory; it’s a ritual narrative that replays each year at the Seder, a ceremonial meal that combines storytelling, symbolic foods, and communal singing. The core images stay simple, but the layers run deep: unleavened bread (matzo) to recall the haste of leaving, bitter herbs to hint at suffering, and a festive cup for Elijah the Prophet who might witness a future redemption.

In many Jewish households, the Passover table becomes a kind of traveling classroom. Kids and adults read from the Haggadah, a guide that blends scripture with commentary, questions, and jokes. The ritual invites participation, dialogue, and a sense that freedom is both a memory and a choice reinforced year after year. It’s not merely about remembering an ancient escape; it’s about reflecting on what liberation means today—from fear, from oppression, from personal cycles of limitation. No wonder Passover feels so foundational. It’s where the story begins for many Jews, and the storytelling itself becomes a shared act of faith.

Yom Kippur: the Day of Atonement, devotion, and quiet intensity

If Passover is about liberation, Yom Kippur is about repair. The High Holy Day is widely regarded as the holiest day of the year in Judaism, a time set aside for repentance, self-examination, and reconciliation with God and with people. The atmosphere is intentionally solemn: fasting, extended prayer, and long stretches in the synagogue. The liturgy is thick with confessional prayers (the Vidui) and a sense of accountability that stretches across the past year into the next.

The rhythm of Yom Kippur—fasting, reflective reading, and communal confession—creates a powerful mood. It’s not flashy; it’s precise, almost surgical in its focus on conscience, humility, and forgiveness. The day culminates in the closing service, where the community hopes for cleansing and renewal. Because the themes are universal—mistakes, atonement, and the chance to start anew—Yom Kippur often resonates beyond the bounds of religious life, inviting thoughtful discussion about responsibility and forgiveness in everyday situations.

Rosh Hashanah: the sweet new year, memory, and a call to reflection

Rosh Hashanah marks the Jewish New Year. It’s a time of beginnings, introspection, and careful listening to the heart’s whispers. The shofar—the ram’s horn—drums out a call to wakefulness and alertness. People greet one another with wishes for a sweet year, often accompanied by apple slices dipped in honey. The days that follow, sometimes described as the “ten days of repentance,” invite a deeper self-examination: where did we miss the mark? where can we grow? The liturgy emphasizes judgment and mercy, memory and hope, mixing a sense of accountability with the possibility of positive change.

So, why are Passover, Yom Kippur, and Rosh Hashanah labeled “the big three”? The case rests on scale, liturgical weight, and historical priority in many Jewish communities. These festivals are tied to cornerstones of Jewish law, collective memory, and communal rhythm. They shape how sacred time is organized, teach critical theological ideas, and steer people toward collective worship and study in ways that feel foundational across diverse streams—Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, and beyond.

Hanukkah: a beloved festival, but not one of the three major ones

Now for Hanukkah. This festival is deeply meaningful to many families and carries a bright, inviting atmosphere—lights, gifts, songs, and latkes. It commemorates the rededication of the Second Temple in Jerusalem and the miracle of the oil that burned for eight days. The themes—rededication, resilience, and the miracle of light—are powerful and uplifting. Yet, in the traditional list of “three major festivals,” Hanukkah isn’t counted alongside Passover, Yom Kippur, and Rosh Hashanah for historical or calendar reasons.

There are a few ways scholars explain this distinction. First, Passover, Yom Kippur, and Rosh Hashanah are deeply tied to Biblical narratives and to the calendar’s most intense liturgical moments. They anchor a set of rituals that recur with definite seasonal and agricultural symbolism, and their observance hinges on core commandments and public worship in many communities. Hanukkah, while rooted in a dramatic historical episode and enriched by liturgical and cultural practices, grows out of a later period in Jewish history and is often seen as relative to a later-phase festival with a lighter religious tone in day-to-day life.

Second, the intensity and universality of the messages differ. Passover speaks to collective emancipation and national memory; Yom Kippur crystallizes personal and communal repentance; Rosh Hashanah inaugurates a period of accountability and renewal. Hanukkah—though meaningful and celebratory—tends to center around themes of perseverance, the miracle of oil, and the victory of a community’s religious project under pressure. It’s emotionally rich, but in the traditional taxonomy it sits outside the core liturgical cluster that defines the year’s central religious calendar for many Jewish groups.

A closer look at the calendar and the practice

If you flip through a Jewish calendar or sit with someone who keeps the cycles closely, you’ll notice that the three major festivals sit at decisive points in the year: spring, late summer to fall, and early fall. Passover arrives in spring, a season associated with new growth and change. Yom Kippur sits at the heart of fall’s “Days of Awe,” inviting soul-searching during a time of harvest and preparation. Rosh Hashanah begins the new year, setting a rhythm that carries through the days of repentance into the festival season.

Hanukkah, meanwhile, carves out its own space, often overlapping with winter celebrations in many communities. The lighting of the menorah, the culinary smells of fried foods, and the playful atmosphere around gifts create a distinct mood. In some necks of the woods, Hanukkah’s festivities mingle with broader cultural celebrations, making it more of a communal and family-centered season than a season of solemn liturgy.

From a scholarly angle, these differences matter. When researchers or teachers compare religious calendars, they pay attention to how festivals organize memory, how they mobilize ritual space (synagogues, homes, streets), and how they frame ethical or theological themes for the community. The three major festivals are often used as anchors in discussions of Jewish identity, law, and liturgy, while Hanukkah provides a rich case study in how historical events translate into religious practice and cultural meaning.

What this means for studying religion more broadly

If you’re studying Studies of Religion, this isn’t just a trivia question. It’s a doorway into understanding how communities prioritize certain narratives, how calendars serve as vessels for memory, and how rituals shape everyday life. Here are a few angles you might notice if you’re comparing Judaism with other traditions:

• Narrative gravity: Major festivals tend to hinge on foundational stories or doctrinal milestones. Passover’s Exodus narrative, Yom Kippur’s emphasis on atonement, and Rosh Hashanah’s themes of judgment create recurring, recognizable arcs year after year.

• Ritual architecture: The structure of the rituals matters—Seder meals, fasting and prayer, and the sounding of the shofar—all of which guide participants through a meaningful emotional terrain.

• Community and space: Big festivals often invite communal worship and public ceremonies, while smaller or more culturally resonant festivals may center on home observance, family memory, and domestic celebration.

• Continuity and change: Hanukkah shows how later historical experiences become enduring traditions. It’s a reminder that religious life isn’t static; communities adapt, reinterpret, and weave new layers into older frameworks.

A few practical takeaways for your own learning

• When you encounter a list of major festivals, pause and ask: what counts as “major” here? Is it tied to a narrative core, to liturgical intensity, or to historical impact?

• Look for how the festival is experienced in daily life. Is the emphasis on communal worship, home rituals, charitable acts, or personal introspection? The answer often reveals the festival’s distinctive appeal.

• Consider how different Jewish communities might observe these festivals differently. Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, and other streams bring unique flavors to the same festival, yet the core meanings often remain shared.

• Use primary sources as guides. The Passover Haggadah, liturgical prayers for Yom Kippur, or Rosh Hashanah Machzor (prayer book) can illuminate how the meanings are structured and transmitted.

A little tangential reflection to tie it all together

If you’ve ever watched a family light candles, recite prayers, or share a symbolic meal, you’ve seen how these traditions live in ordinary life. The symbols—the Seder plate’s elements, the yoke of the feather-light significance of shofar blasts, the oil’s stubborn glow—are not just tokens. They’re prompts for memory, ethical reflection, and community bonding. In that sense, the three major festivals and Hanukkah together sketch a broader map of how Judaism uses time to shape values: freedom, accountability, renewal, and endurance in the face of difficulty.

So, where does Hanukkah fit in this map? As a festival with its own luminous energy, it complements the core seasons of reflection and remembrance without displacing them. It’s a reminder that religious calendars are layered: some moments press us to look inward and upward with awe, others gather us around a table to retell a story, and others still remind us that light—literal and metaphorical—can endure in surprising ways.

If you’re parsing SOR materials, this distinction between major and non-major festivals isn’t about separating importance with a judgment; it’s about understanding how communities organize meaning. It’s a lens to see how memory, ritual, and identity interact across time and space. And that perspective—grounded in careful reading of texts, attentive observation of practice, and thoughtful comparison—is exactly what helps the studies of religion come alive.

Final thought: the three major festivals, plus Hanukkah, offer a compact but telling glimpse into Judaism’s rich tapestry. Passover, Yom Kippur, and Rosh Hashanah spotlight pivotal moments of freedom, forgiveness, and renewal. Hanukkah adds a narrative of perseverance and light that shines in parallel. Taken together, they map out how a community remembers its past, orders its present, and imagines its future. That mix—history, ritual, memory—is what makes studying religion so endlessly engaging. It’s not only about the facts; it’s about how people live with meaning every day, in homes and synagogues, in schools and streets, in questions and answers that keep evolving with time.