A tale of two Hanukkas

My wife and I once spent Hanukka in Ushuaia at the very southernmost tip of Argentina, across from the South Pole. At that season of the year there is no sunset and no sunrise there, only perpetual light. In addition to the problem of when one kindles the Hanukka lights under those circumstances, what bothered me most was that lighting them seemed superfluous. What was the point of lighting lights when there was no darkness? Many years later we spent Hanukka in Moscow, so far north that, at that time of year, there is almost no daytime. The sun rose – but not too high – late in the morning and vanished early in the afternoon, so that the entire time was gloomy. Lighting the lights there seemed very important. Anything one could do to chase away the darkness was a cause for celebration. The contrast between celebrating Hanukka in those two cities caused me to consider seriously the question: Why do we light lights for this holiday? Of course we all know the story of the miracle of the oil that burned for eight days recorded in the Babylonian Talmud, Shabbat 21b. As lovely as the story is, it is more of a legend than a historical account. It is not found in the official Hanukka prayer “For the miracles,” which recounts the story of the Maccabees' victory but makes no mention of miraculous oil. Nor is there mention of it in the Books of Maccabees, which are the official historical accounts of those events. It is clear from the account in II Maccabees 10:6-8 that the eight days of the holiday stem from the fact that for their rededication ceremony the Maccabees took the model of the eight-day festival of Sukkot (including Shmini Atzeret), because that was the last of the festivals that they had not been able to properly observe. They even went so far as to carry around the lulav and recite the full Hallel. In future years they continued to commemorate it for eight days, although without the lulav. The only connection with light is that they are said to have relit the menorah in the Temple. That is also mentioned in the “For the miracles” prayer and may indeed be the reason that the Sages determined that a light should be kindled each evening of Hanukka. There is, however, another possible origin of the lighting of lights at Hanukka time. The sages told a story about what happened to Adam, the first human being, at this time of the year. When the days began to become shorter, Adam was terrified. Each day there was less and less light and, having never experienced this before, he assumed that eventually there would be nothing but darkness, no light at all. This, he thought, was the death that he had been told was coming upon him as a punishment for disobeying God. But when the days began to become longer once again, he realized that this was merely the natural order of the world and instituted an eight-day festival each year to celebrate it. He did so in gratitude to God, but later pagans celebrated it in honor of their false gods (Avoda Zara 8a). This legend was the sages' explanation for the origin of the Roman holidays that occur at that time of year, holidays that included lighting lights, holidays that later were adopted by Christianity as Christmas and New Year. It is no accident that Christmas lights play such a prominent role in that holiday. Many cultures have a similar practice, which probably originated in sympathetic magic. In an attempt to encourage the sun to shine longer, you light fires. This, people believed, would help to restore the sun's brilliance. Lighting lights when the days are short and dark is also a very human thing to do. It is well known that the gloom of darkness, as we experienced it in Moscow, causes depression and may even increase suicides in far northern regions. It makes sense, then, that Jews – no less than Romans – would have wanted to light lights at Hanukka time in order to dispel the darkness and gloom, to brighten their lives when the depression of the winter season sets in. The sages told the story of the miraculous oil because they wanted to make certain that the lights were not merely an imitation of what pagans were doing, but were truly tied to the events of Hanukka. The miracle was not only the story of overcoming our enemies and rededicating the Temple, but also the oil that burned beyond its natural time. We all need light in our lives. There is a physical and physiological need for light at this season, but there is also a psychological need for something to brighten our lives whenever things seem dark. This is true today when we are depressed about the way in which things are going in the world around us. When we read about corruption in government, about sexual assaults by well-known public figures, about assaults on democracy and human rights, about terrorist attacks and mass shootings, we need something to dispel the gloom. We need to be reassured that there is hope that things will improve, just as there is hope that there will be increased light in the days to come. That is also the reason why Hillel's way of lighting the lights – increasing them each day – is more acceptable than Shammai's method of decreasing the number each day until there are none. Increasing light is optimistic; the other is pessimistic. One gives us hope, the other takes it away. Light can be increased in the world, but only when we take actions to improve the world and thus fight against the darkness that threatens the values we treasure. We should think of that when we kindle the lights of Hanukka. The writer is a former president of the International Rabbinical Assembly and a member of its Committee on Jewish Law and Standards. He is a two time winner of the Jewish Book Award whose latest book is Akiva: Life, Legend, Legacy (JPS).

A tale of two Hanukkas

Many cultures have a similar practice, which probably originated in sympathetic magic. In an attempt to encourage the sun to shine longer, you light fires.

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A tale of two Hanukkas

Many cultures have a similar practice, which probably originated in sympathetic magic. In an attempt to encourage the sun to shine longer, you light fires.

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