Halacha matters: Fighting the dark after the festival of light

Growth, transformation and renewal can take place on numerous levels only when we appreciate that transitions are often an opportunity.

By NECHAMA GOLDMAN BARASH
SKIERS RIDE a ski lift on Mount Hermon in the Golan Heights (photo credit: REUTERS/NIR ELIAS)
SKIERS RIDE a ski lift on Mount Hermon in the Golan Heights
(photo credit: REUTERS/NIR ELIAS)
Hanukka ended this week and with it the frenzy of doughnuts, parties and presents. Nonetheless, the little candles flickering in the darkness will be sorely missed, especially as we head into the darkest and coldest days of winter.
The winter solstice of 2017 occurred on December 21 at 6:28 p.m. Israel time. The solstice takes place on the shortest day of the year in the northern hemisphere, when the Earth is tilted farthest away from the sun, signaling the onset of winter.
It can be a time of intense loneliness. Daytime ends early, often accompanied by cold and rain that drive people indoors and enhance feelings of melancholy. On the other hand, it can also lead people to seek out company and join together for meals and socializing to ward off a sense of isolation and despair.
It is hardly a coincidence that for thousands of years, many cultures and religions have held festivals of light at this darkest time of the year. The beckoning power of light in the darkness is a compelling symbol of hope and warmth.
The Babylonian Talmud speaks of the winter solstice in tractate Avoda Zara 8a, where it mentions two pagan holidays, Kalenda and Saturnalia, which take place eight days before and eight days after the winter solstice. The Talmud explains that these holidays originated from Adam.
When Adam saw that daylight was progressively diminishing, he initially though it was because of his sin and that the world was becoming darker, on its way to returning to primordial chaos and disorder. He spent eight days fasting and in prayer as a sign of his repentance, all of which are proper Jewish responses to impending tragedy.
However, when the month of Tevet arrived along with the winter solstice, he saw the days began to lengthen and realized that the shortening and lengthening of days was simply the order of the world. To his credit, he realized that it was not his actions that had brought about the desired change but the hand of God.
Following his recognition, Adam observed a festival of eight days. The following year, he celebrated two festivals spanning 16 days at the darkest time of the year. The first festival, eight days before the winter solstice, was to commemorate the days of fasting and praying. On the second festival, eight days after the solstice, he celebrated his understanding of God’s plan for the cyclical nature of the seasons.
What is most interesting is that he commemorated the days of loneliness and fear along with the days of thanksgiving. His winter solstice festival(s) recognized both man’s frailty in light of the unknowable universe as well as the glimpses man is given of God’s plan for the world.
The Talmud concludes that Adam established these festivals for the sake of heaven, but the pagans established them for the sake of idol worship. Hanukka thus became the eight-day, Jewish substitute for those earlier festivals.
In Genesis Raba there is another story about man in darkness which is reminiscent of the Greek story of Prometheus. Prometheus was the Titan who stole fire from the gods to free mankind from darkness and misery. In the rabbinic retelling, God’s relationship to man and fire is portrayed very differently.
Adam, who was created on the sixth day, did not experience darkness until the Sabbath ended, since God, out of honor to the Sabbath, allowed the sun to shine for 36 hours. When the sun went down and darkness began to envelop Adam for the first time, he became terrified.
God, out of compassion, showed him two flints, which he struck one against the other, creating his own light to illuminate the darkness. The midrash provides a wonderful contrast between the Greek myth in which Prometheus is punished for all eternity for helping mankind to find warmth and light, and God empowering man to create fire.
As in the Talmudic story, man comes to appreciate the goodness of light in response to experiencing darkness. Growth, transformation and renewal can take place on numerous levels only when we appreciate that transitions are often an opportunity.
It is at the darkest time of year that light begins to increase again. Solstice in Latin means stilling or stopping. It refers to the sun’s apparent night-lengthening procession across the sky, which rests at the moment of the solstice before it begins to move in reverse.
In fact, immediately after the solstice, the merest hint of a motion toward spring has already begun, reminding us that the seasons are cyclical; just as winter is here, eventually, the rebirth of spring and the long, hot days of summer will soon return.
The dark days of winter call on us to create light – internal and external – through religious rituals, family gatherings and social interactions that sustain us until the natural light returns for longer and longer periods during the day.
The writer teaches contemporary Halacha at the Matan Advanced Talmud Institute. She also teaches Talmud at Pardes along with courses on Sexuality and Sanctity in the Jewish tradition.


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