There's an old joke that sums up Jewish holidays: They tried to kill us. We prevailed. Let's eat.

Not entirely true, but when it comes to Hanukkah, that's pretty apt.

Which is why the symbol of the holiday, the Hanukkah menorah, or Hanukkiah, is an intentional, in-your-face icon of religious freedom.

The eight-day holiday began Tuesday night with the lighting of the first candle on holiday menorahs. Tonight, five candles will be lit.

The miracle of Hanukkah — that a day's worth of oil lit the menorah of the Jewish Temple for eight— is the culmination of the larger story dating back to ancient Israel, under Greek rule, when King Antiochus IV banned non-Greek religions, killing resistors, and erecting a shrine to Zeus in the Jewish Temple of Jerusalem. A family of Jewish priests, the Maccabees, rose up against the Greek army, and in 164 B.C.E., defeated them, enabling the rededication of the Temple.

Rather than focus on the military victory, rabbis highlighted the bit of olive oil that lit the menorah for eight days.

"The menorah is a symbol of not just a lamp, but of light and enlightenment," said Rabbi Hillel Norry of Congregation Shearith Israel in Virginia-Highlands.

Lighting a menorah at the darkest time of year and reciting the holiday prayer, which praises God for having "delivered the many into the hands of the few, the wicked into the hands of the righteous," instructs that "darkness can be dispelled by light," he said. "It's actually a very universal message even at the same time as part of the message is about preserving uniqueness."

Hanukkah menorahs have become increasingly original works of art over the years.

"The menorahs don't look like a menorah anymore. They look like decorations for your house," said Janet Afrah, who has sold them in her Toco Hills shop, Judaica Corner, for 20 years.

The ones she sells for children, for example, feature trains, teddy bears, fire trucks and airplanes. And while menorahs have modernized over the years, Afrah is seeing the re-emergence of a relic — the use of oil in menorahs and candles made of olive oil, which burn longer than regular candles.

"A lot of times, the old way, the original way works better and is more the feel of home," Afrah said. "That's how our fathers used to do it and grandparents used to do it."

Along with oil lamps, Jennie Rivlin Roberts, who recently launched the online shop, moderntribe.com, "geared towards younger, hipper, more design-conscious Jews," says there's a move away from silver – who has time to polish anymore? — and toward modular menorahs that allow creative configurations.

Roberts, 36, said of her generation, "We want to enjoy being Jewish, and we want to have Jewish things in our home, but we also want it to fit with where we are aesthetically and how our lifestyle is."

Historically, menorahs were often richly ornamented but conformed to basic styles like the "bench lamp," an aisle of candles affixed to a backing and a candelabra recalling the look of the seven-branched menorah from The Temple, according to Susan Braunstein, curator of archaeology and Judaica at The Jewish Museum in New York, which, with more than 1,000 Hanukkah menorahs, houses the largest collection in the world.

In any case, they were tailored to meet rabbinical restrictions – that the lights be publicly displayed, each of them level and distinct, except for the Shamash, the "worker" candle that lights the other eight, which are strictly for decorative purposes. "Whether it is a question of popularity in usage, greater survival through the centuries, or collecting preferences, the Hanukkah lamp's appeal seems out of proportion to the importance of the holiday it is kindled on," Braunstein has written, suggesting that its domestic use and distinct look may have contributed to its outnumbering all other ceremonial objects at the museum.

For Michele Fox, 53, who has collected as many as 50 menorahs over the past 20 years, the lamps are a matter of both artwork and meaning.

Menorahs from the whimsical to the modern adorn Fox's Dunwoody home. A living room display case houses one menorah fashioned into bagels and another into a teapot. Menorahs made of mah-jongg tablets (she doesn't play, it was a gift) and kites (her husband likes to fly them) decorate the patio. Kitchen ledges showcase menorahs as a stand of musicians, a table and chairs, a stack of magnetic candle holders for traveling, and a custom-made ceramic piece the kids gave them that depicts each family member, with Fox donning a Braves sweatshirt.

"It's really been fascinating to see different ways that people would do a menorah," Fox said. Plus, they add a festive flair to the home and a reminder of a happy time of year, she explained.

"This is who we are."

And for many Jews, that's precisely the menorah's meaning.

At a time when it seems everyone is celebrating Christmas, "I light my menorah because I'm Jewish," Roberts said, and "don't I, at this moment, value that freedom, and don't I, at this moment, remember that I need to protect it."