Chanukah
Days of light, sharing and mind over matter
Beginning Saturday evening, December 8, 2012
Why light a candle? Why not volunteer at a soup kitchen, work on a recycling project, or collect winter coats for the needy? How does lighting a candle even make it on the list of things to do to help humankind get closer to greater understanding, tolerance and an end to pain and suffering?
All actions begin with thought. When I light a candle, I could just think about lighting a candle. Or I can direct my conscious thought to natural miracles, where against all odds the outcome I wish for comes true. When I give out of my pocket I appear to have less. When I give of myself I feel better and hopefully so does someone else. When I light a candle we all have more light, not less. When we light the candles, let’s think about a world where sharing and caring spread like a flame, beyond what may appear rational or likely. This month of Kislev is designed for breakthroughs and unlikely outcomes. That’s what the Maccabees knew when they prevailed against a more numerous and mighty foe.
Share what you will be thinking about as you light candles by commenting below. Wishing all a meaningful holiday!
Contributed by David G.
Religions throughout time and across the world have marked the shortened winter days with festivals of light. Sometimes, these festivals of light align with one's personal history to form a deep connection. As the youngest of six children in a very assimilated Jewish household, I grew up with both a Christmas tree and a Chanukah menorah. The decoration of the tree was a family event, but so was the lighting of the menorah. As a young child, I would count toward the last night of Chanukah, when the menorah was a full representation of our family: one candle for each night, and each member of the family, and the shamash, the lighting candle, which stood above the family, illumined the individual members and watched over us.
The growth toward the menorah, completely aglow on the last night of the holiday, seemed to me to match the progression toward the fullness of our family. As the youngest in an assimilated household, I admired the steady glow of the lights on the Christmas tree, but I felt awed by the spread of light to all eight candles, and the silent sentinel that stood faithfully above them.
