As Hanukkah begins this Sunday night, the weekly Torah portion “Vayeshev” offers a strikingly relevant backdrop. The parasha follows Joseph, who is repeatedly cast into darkness only to rise, again and again, into unexpected light. His journey mirrors the essence of Hanukkah, a festival born in the darkest days of the year, when the increasing candlelight becomes both a ritual and a symbol.
Joseph’s descent begins when he is thrown into a pit that the midrash describes as filled with snakes and scorpions. Miraculously, he survives, only to face further trials in Egypt, where he again lands in a dungeon, another pit of confinement. However, next week’s Torah portion will see him rise suddenly from this depth to become second-in-command over Egypt.
This pattern – descent leading to ascent, darkness giving way to light – lies at the heart of the Jewish story and the spirit of Hanukkah.
This holiday arrives during the shortest days of the year. Into this natural darkness, we bring growing illumination, adding one candle each night. Hillel teaches, “Ma’alin bekodesh ve’ein moridin” – we rise in holiness. The Hebrew word mosif (“to add”) shares a root with Joseph, whose very name means “to increase.” His life embodies the principle that darkness can become the starting point for new, expanding light.
A remarkable midrash deepens this connection. After his father, Jacob, is buried, Joseph returns to the pit where his brothers cast him – not out of trauma but to bless the site of his salvation: “Blessed is God, who performed a miracle for me in this place.” Jewish law teaches that one who revisits a place of personal deliverance recites this blessing, for returning awakens gratitude and heightens awareness of divine kindness.
Hanukkah echoes this idea. When we light the hanukkiah, every Jewish home becomes a symbolic return to the site of the ancient miracle. The act of kindling candles reconnects us to the menorah of the Maccabees. The blessing we recite parallels the blessing over a personal miracle – as though we stand once again in the Temple, watching its golden lights being rekindled.
Two kinds of miracles on Hanukkah
Hanukkah holds two kinds of miracles: the revealed miracle – the oil that burned beyond nature; and the hidden miracle of military victory. The blessing over the flames refers to the revealed miracle, but our intention includes the concealed one as well. Immediately afterward, we recite: “For the miracles, the wonders, the salvations, and the battles…” Both forms of divine intervention shape the Hanukkah story.
Artist Yoram Raanan’s painting Molten Menorah rises in luminous gold from deep earth tones, as though unearthed from antiquity. Painted with his hands and fingers, the work feels primal – fire, earth, and liquid gold merging into one elemental vision. Golden flames seem to emerge from the brown-red ground below, giving the sense of a menorah forged in fire, born from the depths of the Earth itself.
For Raanan, this exploration of light emerging from darkness is a lifelong pursuit. He is fascinated by the interplay between illumination and shadow – how darkness makes light more radiant, how earth colors reveal the glow within.
The deep browns, reds, and golds are not merely pigments; they create a dynamic contrast where the shadows are never flat or empty. Instead, they are layered, alive, and full of hidden gradations – “pregnant with depth” as he describes it.
The gold leaf adds another dimension entirely. It brings a sense of preciousness, layering the canvas with subtle sheen and texture. It catches light, reflects light, and at times seems to emit its own inner light.
This interplay – direct light, reflected light, and an almost spiritual inner illumination – creates a feeling that the painting is breathing, moving, glowing from within. It becomes a dialogue between spirit and matter, between what is seen and what is suggested.
The flames appear to dance upward – mysterious, molten forms sculpted with thick, textured pigments, glass-bead mediums, and sweeping finger strokes. The depth pulls the eye inward as molten gold recedes into shadow and reemerges as fire.
Molten Menorah is not only a menorah of ancient earth and gold – it is a meditation on the enduring truth at the heart of Hanukkah: light rising from darkness, glowing from within, transforming the world around it. ■
The writer is the author of the book Art of Revelation: A Visual Encounter with the Jewish Bible, a commentary on the paintings of her husband, Yoram Raanan. She is also a meditation instructor.