News from Rabbinate

The Miracle of What Remains

The purpose of the Hanukkiah placed in our window, burning with its small flames, is pirsumei nisa: publicizing the miracle.

And yet, living among the lights of Christmas, we sense the quiet irony - a few fragile flames offered to the street, their glow absorbed into thousands of brighter, louder lights.

This is no coincidence. The miracle of Hanukkah is not meant to outshine all the others. For the miracle of Hanukkah is a miracle of what remains: a small amount of oil that survived out of abundance; a light that is miraculous not because it is great, but because it is small enough to endure without disappearing. Not a miracle of plenty, but a miracle of what nevertheless was not lost.

This small, fragile miracle must be treated with care. The holiness of the Hanukkah candles lies precisely in restraint: in the fact that they are present, ready for use, and yet we refrain from using them, choosing instead simply to behold them. The flames are lirotam bilvad: only to be seen. The candle does not shine so that we may see more clearly; it shines so that we may linger. The flame is a state of consciousness: its light compels us to slow down, to gather around, to become present.

Our gaze into fire connects us instantly to our forebears, to millions of generations of human beings who have stood before a living flame in wonder, enchanted and drawn to its light. In this same way, the Hanukkah candles seek to connect us to the generations before us, through the unique blessing recited only over them: “who performed miracles for our ancestors in those days, at this time.”

Hanukkah is a festival that awakens a different kind of sensitivity in us- to the small light, to the tiny miracle, to the fragile flame that we pass from generation to generation, guarding it and tending to it with care.

And perhaps this is the hope of Hanukkah: not that darkness will vanish, but that something fragile will always continue to burn.