Shabbat Chanukah/Mikeitz: What the Glow of Our Candles Can Achieve

A few days ago, my daughter, Caroline, and I were getting home from our daily commute together. We carpool. As I lifted her out of the car, she looked up and exclaimed, "Moon!" We stopped for a minute to talk about the full moon, and to sing a couple of songs about it. And then, she reached up to grab it. Of course, she was unsuccessful, because, you know, it's the moon. But then 

she turned to me and said, "Daddy do it." I indulged her and tried a couple of times to nab it, but then explained to her how high up it is, and why we can't reach it. I'm not sure she got it. Later, after I recovered from this overdose of cuteness, I reflected on just how human she was being in that moment. Don't you think we all, as kids, at some point reached up and thought we could lasso the moon? Everyone learns it's impossible (without NASA), yet we ALL do it. It also occurred to me that this SHOULD happen. If, by some Chanukah miracle, I DID reach up and grab the moon, Carrie wouldn't think twice about it. She'd hold it in her hand, then eventually drop it like every other toy or novel shiny object. The fact that we can't reach it, that it's so high up and unobtainable, means it will remain mysterious to her. And hopefully, she'll keep reaching for things beyond her grasp, keep aspiring and trying, even when things seem totally inaccessible or impossible. And this, to me, is really the message of Chanukah.

One very famous Chanukah debate took place 2,000 years ago between two great rabbis, Hillel and Shammai. In short, Shammai wanted to light all eight candles on Day One and then diminish, while Hillel wanted to begin with one and increase. Guess who won. But I recently read a 

great interpretation of the underlying reasons for each rabbinic position. Both rabbis understood that it's hard to stay excited about the holiday for all eight nights. Let's face it: The first day is exciting, we sing the songs we've missed for a whole year with great gusto and enthusiasm. The presents are great, the latkes and donuts taste terrific. Flash-forward a week... the motivation's petered out. We're down to sock-presents, and the thought of more oily food is a little nauseating. And it's possible that (heaven forbid) some people "forget" to light them on the final night, or skip a couple in the middle. The point is, according to Shammai, let's have our Chanukiah reflect our current emotional state; I'm excited NOW, let's fire 'em all! But Hillel takes a different approach.

Hillel says we should push ourselves to grow in enthusiasm. We should reach for something that's a little harder to obtain. It's easy to get excited on Day One. But religion is really about challenging ourselves to do more, to be more than we are at 

this very moment. Rabbi Nathan Lopes Cardozo writes: "[Hillel] believes that if we do not inspire man with his potential and give him a taste of what could be, he will not even strive to achieve higher goals." The Chanukiah is a symbol. Among other things, it represents the presence of miracles in our lives, but miracles WE must work to bring about. It's a reminder to us to bring light and goodness into the world. And we cannot just sit back and wait for it to fall into our laps; we need to strive and work hard for it to happen. 

JTS, my alma mater, writes about this as well. In a statement about healing in our community and Chanukah, they write: "As we celebrate Chanukah, we are reminded of the rabbinic instruction to increase the light over the course of the holiday. So too we need to increase the light 

in our communal lives so that we can see clearly the faces of our neighbors and public servants." It's hard to affect change. It's hard to imagine that some of the rifts in our country and in our communities can be healed. It's like reaching up for the moon; it's impossible. But can we stop striving? Can we really just give up, light all our candles right now, and finish the celebration early? No way. We need to keep pushing. We have to force ourselves to try harder, to care deeper, and to insist on change in our society. Chanukah is the festival of action, not just the festival of light. We should take that message to heart... and keep a lasso handy. 

Happy Chanukah!

Photos in this blog post:
1. CC image of courtesy of Roadcrusher on Wikimedia Commons
2. CC image courtesy of Roy Lindman on en.wikipedia
3. CC image courtesy of Trinitro Tolueno on Wikimedia Commons
4. CC image courtesy of Djampa on Wikimedia Commons