Rabbi's Chayva's Chat

If you’re reading this email newsletter, then you have probably seen our other messages sharing the tragic losses of Paul Pifko (father of Daniel Pifko), Pete Gleichenhaus (past president), Ron Appel (past board member), and Andy Martin (father of Samantha Martin). It is hard for a small, closely knit community such as ours to hold one major loss, let alone so many, and that doesn’t even include the other losses which I know several of you are holding privately.

Chanukah is a holiday that doesn’t hide from dark times. It originates from a moment in history when the Jewish future looked dim, and yet we overcame the odds. And each year, at the darkest time of the year, we celebrate the miracle of divine light and recreate that light in our chanukiyot (our menorahs).

It wasn’t always the case that all Jews lit an additional candle each night, bringing more and more light to the holiday. One of our earliest pairs of sages, Hillel and Shammai, had a disagreement about it. Shammai said that we should start Chanukah with a fully lit menorah and subtract a candle each night, which would parallel the way bulls were sacrificed during Sukkot (which Chanukah might have been modeled after), as well as show the slow dwindling of the Temple’s sacred oil as it burned for eight days. In contrast, Hillel advocated the practice most Jews now follow: that each day we light one more candle, because we follow the principle of מעלין בקודש ma’alin bakodesh, that we ascend (“ma’alin” is from the same root as aliyah) in matters of holiness.

I know that Am Tikvah will rise from this sad moment. I know that we will show up for the upcoming funerals and shiva minyanim. I know that we will lean on one another in grief, and I know we’ll find and provide comfort through community and tradition. Because we know that just as the Chanukah candles do not light themselves, we can only find solace in the darkness by finding the light in each other. May this last day of Chanukah bring you light and love. Chag Sameach.