PETER KOHN

IT is Sunday evening, December 13, and I am trying to locate Ohel Rachel, the first synagogue built in Shanghai (in 1920) and, with Ohel Moshe, the only two still standing.

I have heard there is a Chanukah candle lighting. Suffused with syrupy carols in my hotel and in the malls, and oversized Christmas trees, I am convinced the Chinese understand the commercial and diplomatic upsides of Yuletide. But I need my Chanukah fix.

I have the address from a guide book and, exiting from the West Nanjing Road station of the metro, I follow my map to North Shaanxi Road, bordering the treelined former French Concession, where I turn right.

At a building just over West Beijing Road, there is a buzz — a mix of security personnel and officialdom. I’ve found it.

There is that awkward moment I’ve experienced at Jewish centres from Berlin to Boston, where you do the little chitchat that, in the post-9/11 world, establishes your bona fides.

Once inside, I discover I’ve come at a significant time. It is the 10th Chanukah celebration since the Shanghai Jewish Centre, a Chabad organisation, persuaded the government to allow Jews to celebrate the festival of lights at Ohel Rachel, in a country that remains suspicious of religions and minorities.

A visit to Ohel Rachel by then US First Lady Hillary Clinton in 1998 was a milestone. Consular officials from Israel, the US  — and Germany - are present tonight.

Chabad’s Rabbi Shalom Greenberg leads the celebration and children from a tiny Jewish cheder kindle chanukiyot on the podium and on a trestle table — a sea of lights.

Shanghai has a mostly transient Jewish population of Western professionals numbering around 250, but according to Chabad, growing by a third each year. Rabbi Greenberg speaks of his hopes that Ohel Rachel might hold regular services.

After sampling latkes and sufganiyot, I spend the evening breaking bread with two American couples from Ohel Rachel, eager to tell their story and to hear mine. I resolve to return to Shanghai some day.