Chanukah & The Wonderful World of 36

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MENORAH MEDITATION

Gaze at the flames.

Tiny, silent flames.

Glowing, sometimes dancing.

Vulnerable, yet always reaching upward.

You, too, possess an inner flame.

Tiny, silent flame.

Lost in a sea of deadlines and commitments.

Flame that wants to dance.

To reach upward.

To touch something higher, richer, deeper.

That flame is your flame.

It can never be extinguished.

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Profit from Loss, Light from Darkness

by Yehuda Prero, Torah.org

Each and  every holiday, Rav Yitzchok Hutner writes, has a specific message or theme at its core. It is a message that is unique to that holiday, and to truly appreciate the holiday, that unique attribute need be explored. Chanukah, historically speaking, was the last holiday to be established. With the establishment of Chanukah as a holiday, the roots of all the holidays became firmly implanted in Jewish life, and the messages they were to impart were completed. Obviously, the placement of Chanukah as the final holiday teaches us something. This lesson we carried with us as a nation from the time the holiday was established and forward. What is it about Chanukah that is so significant?

The Greeks, in the days of the Chanukah story, were not interested in the physical decimation of the nation of Israel. They were interested in the decimation of the Jewish religion, a spiritual decimation of the nation of Israel. Adherence to the precepts of the Torah was a punishable offence. The study of Torah could easily result in a death sentence. However, this gray cloud had a silver lining, one which had a deep and long-lasting effect.

The study of Torah is central to the life of the nation of Israel. It is of such importance that the squandering of time, the simple loss of opportunity to study Torah, is a sin. However, Rav Hutner points out there are situations where the loss of Torah study actually results in greater perpetuation of Torah study. We find an example of this dichotomy by the breaking of the Luchos, the tablets upon which the Ten Commandments were inscribed. On one hand, we find that G-d "praised," so to speak, the breaking of the Luchos by Moshe (Shabbos 87a). On the other hand, we find that the Talmud states that if it was not for the breaking of the Luchos, Torah would have never been forgotten by the nation of Israel (Eruvin 54a). How is it that Moshe could been praised for an action that allowed Torah to be forgotten for eternity?

The forgetting of Torah necessitates Torah study to recapture that which was lost. A simple reminder if often not enough to relearn that which was forgotten. Time must be spent and effort expended to retrieve that which cannot be found. Therefore, the loss of Torah information actually results in a net gain of Torah study. Although the Luchos were destroyed and Torah was allowed to be forgotten, G-d thanked Moshe for his action, as now much more time would be devoted to the retrieval of that which was lost, the study of Torah thereby increasing in magnitude.

The Greeks attempted to eradicate Torah from the world. They forced many in the nation of Israel to suspend any involvement in Torah study. The oppression was severe, and physical and spiritual tolls were exacted. However, what the Greeks never anticipated was that their wide-scale suppression of Torah study would actually result in an even greater devotion of time and energy to Torah study. The darkness of the oppression led to an even brighter light illuminating the spirit of the nation of Israel, a light that we recall when we allow the light of the Menorah, placed prominently in our windows, for all to see, to illuminate our homes.

Chanukah was the last holiday because it sent us a message that we need to recall during our time of exile. Specifically, Chanukah demonstrated that spiritual suppression can result in spiritual growth. The loss of Torah study can most definitely result in wide-spread growth and disseminating of Torah, on scales never previously imaginable. Generally, the story of Chanukah demonstrates that the gloom of exile and oppression can and will eventually result in splendorous bliss. As the Chanukah prayer of Al HaNissim states, G-d "gave  the mighty to the hands of the week, many into the hands of the few. . . the wicked into the hands of the righteous." This happened on Chanukah, and it will happen again, may it be speedily, in our days.
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For God's candle is the soul of man.” (Proverbs)

The flames of the menorah are small and silent. On the first night of Chanukah we light one candle. Small and silent. We walk into the room and we barely notice its presence. Like our souls, the flame is there. But very subtle.

As we hurtle through days filled with noise and confusion, it's easy to lose track of our souls. There are family obligations, kids, school, the office, dating, vacations, the six o'clock news, the fortunes of our favorite teams, making dinner, reading E-mail, getting the car fixed, returning overdue books, returning calls, paying bills, and surfing the Web.

And somehow… amidst all of this we're supposed to remember that each of us has a soul. That deep down our inner essence wants to do more than run errands. That we yearn to touch the infinite, luminous, divine, transcendent dimension…

YOUR INNER FLAME

The lighting of the menorah creates a new space in our lives. A space where we can, for awhile, divest ourselves of everything else that tugs at us and focus on the "deep down" of life. Who we truly are deep down. What about our inner self we deem to be precious. What we want to do with this brief time we call life, what we want to stand for, and who we want to be – deep down.

Each night of Chanukah, ponder “deep-down” issues. Ask yourself a question, and then sit quietly in front of the silent glow of your menorah, listening for the soft sound of your own inner flame. It may take a few minutes or even longer, but be patient and the answer will come.

When it does, write down your answer. After the first night you will have one answer. The second night you'll have two. And by the last night of Chanukah, both the menorah in your home – and the flame deep within your soul – will be glowing more brightly.

QUESTIONS TO PONDER

1) "Deep down, what I truly want is…

2) "I feel most in touch with my soul when…

3) "What can I do tomorrow that will in some way express the deepest part of who I am?"

4) “If I could give myself one piece of advice for keeping in touch with my deepest aspirations, what would I say?”

5) “If I could give my spouse, child or best friend one tip for not losing sight of the most important things in life, what would I say?”

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LIGHT AND ENLIGHTENMENT

A holy light burns in the lights of Chanuka. A light as old as the world itself. We may not use the Chanuka lights to illuminate our homes. Their radiance may not be used for any practical purpose at all. We may only look into the light itself. We may only gaze into its depths.

But why can't we use the lights of Chanuka for some other sacred purpose? Why can't we use their glow to read words of Torah, for example? What sets aside the Chanuka lights from every other worldly light? Why may we only gaze into the light itself -- and what are we supposed to see there?

Seeing The Light

Darkness. You turn on a light. You can look at light in two ways. Firstly, your surroundings are illuminated. You can see what's around you. Second, you can see the light itself, the source of illumination. And when you look into the light -- into the source -- the world that surrounds you recedes from view.

When we look at our surroundings, our perception of the light is second-hand, reflected. It's "en-lightenment" -- but it's not the light itself. When we look at the light itself, we see the source. We perceive the light, not as a reflection, but the thing itself. We know of the light's existence because we see the light. We don't need it's reflection to give us evidence of its existence.

There are two words in Hebrew that are spelled identically. They have different vowels, but their letters are the same. One is the word for "proof" (rye-ah) and the other is the word for "sight" (ree-ah). These two words express these two aspects of light: Rye-ah, proof, is the reflection of the light, the verification that the light exists by its illumination of our surroundings. Ree-ah, sight, is seeing the source. When you look at the source, you don't need proof. You don't need "en-lightenment." You are looking at the light itself.

Into The Light

In the Psalms, King David writes "For with You is the source of life. In Your light do we see light." (Tehilim 36) Because the Creator is the source of life, His light cannot be perceived by reflection. Only in His "light do we see light." Not in His reflection. If we want to see His reflection in this world, if we want a proof of the existence of the light -- a rye-ah -- we could look at the way His light illuminates this world. We will find evidence of His Hand. Of His light. We will find evidence in the outrageous improbability of a "cosmic soup" which just happens to spawn Life. We will find evidence of His light in the highly unhistorical history of the Jewish People. We will find direct evidence of His light in an unbroken chain back to Sinai. Yes, we will find evidence of the light. We will find proof of its existence, a rye-ah. But we will not see the light itself.

A Light Which Is Hidden

At the beginning of time, there shone a unique light called the Ohr Haganuz -- the Hidden Light. With this light you could see from one end of the Creation to the other. Even though the Creator hid away the Ohr Haganuz after the first thirty-six hours of Creation, there are times when you can still catch glimpses of its hidden glow...

On the first night of Chanuka, we light one candle; on the second night two. Thus after two nights, we have lit three candles. If you continue this calculation, you will find that the total number of candles that we light on Chanuka is thirty-six. The thirty-six lights of Chanuka correspond to the thirty-six hours during which the Ohr Haganuz shone.

Blinded By The Light

"For with You is the source of life. In Your light do we see light." We may not use the lights of Chanuka for any purpose, however holy, for "...with You is the source of life." When we look into the lights of Chanuka we are looking to the Source of life itself. For "In Your light do we see light." We connect to the Source of life, not through its reflected light, not through evidence and proof, not through rye-ah, but rather through ree-ah, through gazing directly into the light. And when we do that, this world of reflection vanishes from our sight.

The Light In Exile

Chanuka, the festival of light, represents the freedom from an exile. The Exile of ancient Greece. Unique among the exiles which the Jewish People have suffered, the Exile of Greece was the only exile in which the Jewish People never left their land. And yet an exile it still was. It was the exile of the Light. The wisdom of the Torah was exiled by Greek philosophy.

To the ancient Greeks, what is beyond the mind of man does not exist. The Greek view of the world is a world of evidence, of rye-ah, of proof. It is a world of reflected light alone. A world of en-lightenment. The Greek eye is blind to a source that is brighter than the eye of man can bear. Thus it grasps the reflection as being the source. What I can see, exists. Beyond that, beyond concrete evidence, in that place where the human eye cannot penetrate, there can exist nothing. The Greeks engaged the Sages of the Talmud over and over again, challenging them to give incontrovertible evidence for the efficacy of the Torah. Prove to us, they said that brit mila causes some empirical improvement in a person; that keeping Shabbat changes someone, something. The Sages could not give these proofs. Not because of any lacking in the Torah, but because the Greeks misunderstood the nature of the Torah itself.

If we wanted to prove the efficacy of an antibiotic, we could go to a laboratory, take a blood sample and analyze it empirically. We could evaluate how many white blood cells there were, how many red. We could take finite measurements which would lead to empirical conclusions. There is, however, no empirical measurement for a mitzva. The Torah is lacking in empirical proofs because it is not a description of that which already exists. It is the source of that which is to be. It depicts an existence which has yet to be. It is the source, not the outcome. It is the light, not its reflection.

The Torah doesn't conform to Greek thought. It doesn't observe the world. It is the source of the world. It is not a reflection of the light. It is the light itself.

When you look into the light all you can see is the light. When you look into the light itself, into the Source of life, the empirical realities of this world, the reflections of the light, pale and fade, for we are gazing far above and beyond to the hidden Source of life itself.

"For with You is the source of life. In Your light do we see light."  

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The Fifth Night of Chanukah
By Rabbi Moshe Greenwald

Permit me to share with your readers a story that happened to my father, of blessed memory. He always kept this story within the family, but now, after the passing of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, I feel obligated to make it public. May the merit of our belief in Tzadikim bring us closer to the redemption.

In 1929, the Rebbe married Rebbetzin Chaya Mushka, daughter of the previous Rebbe, on the fourteenth of Kislev, 1929. My father, Abraham Tzvi Greenwald, who was then 17, had the opportunity to meet the Rebbe at his hotel.

At one point the Rebbe turned to my father, and said: "There are a few days left until Chanukah. Do you know why it is customary in Chassidic shuls to celebrate and make special parties on the "Finef'te Lichtel" (the fifth night of Chanukah)?"

The Rebbe continued: "It happens that the fifth day of Chanukah can never occur on Shabbat. This represents great darkness. The fifth Chanukah candle symbolizes that the light of Chanukah can illuminate even such intense darkness. This is the duty of every Jew, wherever he may find himself, be it in Warsaw or in London, to illuminate even the greatest darkness."

Years passed. The tragedy of the Holocaust hit Polish Jewry. My father went through its horrors, first in the ghetto and then in the death camps. His first wife and five children were killed in front of his eyes. At the end of the war, he was broken in body and spirit.

My father remained in the D.P. camps for two years, looking for surviving family members. All his sisters, brothers and family had been murdered. He emigrated to America in 1948, where his uncle helped him start a new life.

My father met my mother in Toronto and decided to marry. He needed encouragement and confidence for this second marriage, so he traveled to New York to receive the blessing of the Rebbe's father-in-law, Rabbi Yosef Y. Schneerson of righteous memory.

My father received a blessing to build a family and live a long life. Before leaving, my father mentioned that he had attended the Rebbe's wedding in Warsaw. Rabbi Yosef Y. Schneerson's eyes lit up, and he said: "Since you were at my son-in-law's wedding, it would be proper to stop in and visit him too."

My father went downstairs to the Rebbe's office. The Rebbe recognized my father from his visit in Warsaw twenty years earlier.

He then said: "Since my father-in-law told you to come to visit me, I must tell you a Torah concept. We are now in the month of Kislev, close to Chanukah. It happens that the fifth day of Chanukah can never occur on a Shabbos. This represents a great darkness. The fifth candle thus symbolizes the great light of Chanukah, which can illuminate even such an intense darkness. It is the duty of every Jew, wherever he may find himself, be it in New York or London, to illuminate even the greatest darkness."

My father was stunned. The exact same words came back to him, word for word, as the Rebbe had told it to him nearly 20 years ago in the Warsaw hotel.

After my sister and I were born, our family moved to Toronto. Before my marriage in 1969, my father said that although we were not Lubavitch Chassidim, he wanted me to receive the Rebbe's blessing before my wedding, just as he had done before his wedding.

It was not easy to schedule an audience with the Rebbe. My father pleaded with the Rebbe's secretary to allow me in for a blessing before the wedding. It was finally agreed to let us in, only for a blessing, but for no other discussion.

There were many people waiting for their turn with the Rebbe that evening, and we entered the Rebbe's room by early morning. It was the first time I saw the Rebbe and he made a deep impression on me. My father gave the Rebbe a note with our names, requesting that we merit to build a Jewish family.

The Rebbe looked up at my father and smiled. He said, "It is now more than 20 years since you came here before your wedding, especially since my father-in-law sent you to me..."

My father remained standing. The secretary was knocking on the door that we should hurry, but the Rebbe waved his hand to dismiss it.

The Rebbe opened the letter, and gave us his blessings to build a home, and he also blessed my father with a long, good life. The Rebbe said to my father: "Just as you attended my wedding, so may G-d give you strength to attend your grandchild's wedding."

My father was very moved. Before going out, my father dared to ask the Rebbe a question. "In Toronto, I hear complaints and criticism about Lubavitch outreach programs to the unaffiliated. How can you associate with people who are secular, irreligious and against the Torah? How can you put Tefillin on with people who are not observant? I do not mean to criticize, but I want to understand it and be able to explain it to others."

The Rebbe answered: "Suppose the daughter of your very religious neighbor would abandon Judaism, G-d forbid? What would he do? Would he try to bring her back to Torah and Mitzvot, or would he say, 'She is irreligious, I will sever relations and never want to see her again.'?

The Rebbe continued: "Of course, his own daughter is different, as it says, 'Do not remain oblivious to the plight of your relatives.' However, in G-d's eyes, every Jew is as dear and precious as an only child. Every Jew is a relative who cannot be ignored."

The Rebbe then looked at me and my father and said: "We will conclude with a blessing. It is known that Chassidim celebrate the 5th night of Chanukah. The reason is because the fifth day can never occur on a Shabbos. This represents a great darkness. The fifth candle thus symbolizes the great light of Chanukah, which can illuminate even such an intense darkness. This is the duty of every Jew, wherever he may find himself, be it in Toronto or London. Every Jew is a part of G-d above, His only child. When you illuminate his or her soul, then even the Jew furthest away, in the darkest place, can be awakened."

My father was taken aback. All the way back home he kept repeating to himself; "Amazing. Amazing."

Ten years passed. My younger brother got engaged to a girl from London in 1979 and our family was flying there for the wedding just before Chanukah. Minutes before leaving our house for the airport, our neighbor, a very respectable member of the Torah community, came in to talk with my father. He confided to him that his daughter had forsaken Judaism. Two weeks earlier, to their great embarrassment and dismay, she eloped with a non-Jewish boyfriend and fled to London. All their efforts to locate her were unsuccessful. The neighbor asked my father, since he was going to London, to try to find his daughter and save her.

We arrived in London and rejoiced at my brother's wedding. After the wedding my father told his mechutonim, his new in-laws, the story, and asked their advice.

The mechutan told my father, that he himself had no idea what to do, but he recommended a Lubavitch friend, Rabbi Avrohom Y. Gluck, who had helped many lost souls find their way back to Judaism.

They immediately called Rabbi Gluck who called the girl's parents in Toronto for information and clues on how to locate the girl. My parents were still in London during Chanukah when Rabbi Gluck called urgently, "I have a surprise for you."

My father hurried to Rabbi Gluck's house. When he arrived he saw a weeping girl sitting in the living room. Rabbi Gluck had located the girl and had convinced her to return to her family in Toronto.

As my father looked around the room, his eyes fell on the kindled Chanukah menorah. It had five burning candles... He almost fainted as he recalled the Rebbe's words to him fifty years earlier, thirty years earlier and ten years earlier.

"The fifth candle of Chanukah symbolizes the strength of the Menorah light... the role of every Jew to light up the darkest place, whether in Warsaw... in New York... in Toronto or in London."

"...If his daughter strays from Judaism... in G-d's eyes every Jew is an only child..."

The girl returned to her family and to Judaism. After returning home to Canada, my father wanted to visit the Rebbe and tell him what had happened.

In his characteristic humility the Rebbe commented: "My father-in-law had a lot of foresight."