By Michael R. Mantell, Ph.D.
EL CAJON, California — This week’s parsha offers profound insights into psychological themes that resonate deeply with our modern struggles—particularly forgiveness, resilience, and the power of growth through adversity. It reinforces the wisdom that all our abilities and strengths come from Hashem, and through our faith, we are empowered to build a brighter future, no matter the challenges we face. If we look closely, we can discern the hidden order in our lives, and with hope in our hearts, we learn that darkness will never conquer light.
Interestingly, this season—often called the “most wonderful time of the year”—coincides with the darkest time of the year, when daylight is at its shortest. Yet, in this very darkness, we light candles and recite Hallel, not just as a symbolic gesture, but as an act of defiance against the shadows, an assertion that even in the darkest moments, light will prevail.
These flames remind us of the incredible strength of our ancestors, who, with unwavering faith, triumphed over the Seleucid-Greek empire that sought to force them into idolatry. As we kindle these lights, we are reminded of their victory—and of the power of belief and faith to overcome even the greatest of challenges.
The miracle of the oil is a foundation for why candle lighting, an act of pirsuma d’nisa (publicizing the miracle), is one of the two major commandments of Chanukah, with reciting Hallel as the other. Through lighting candles, we can display our hope, trust, and faith in Hashem and in His role in our lives. When they lit the menorah in the Temple, they did so from a belief, a hope, that the future is not preordained, that the future can truly be altered.
At times, it can be difficult to celebrate the light, especially when we are surrounded by so much darkness—the rise of hatred, violence, antisemitism, and bigotry, the erosion of faith and religious observance in many hearts. In such moments, the command of pirsuma d’nisa, the publicizing of the miracle, may seem especially challenging. Yet perhaps the true miracle is not just in the external light we kindle, but in our ability to perceive the light that Hashem Himself offers us, even in the darkest of times.
The real miracle is the capacity to understand the divine meaning of va’y’hi ohr—“let there be light”—and to see, even amidst the most difficult circumstances, that there is light to be found. It is the ability to find “the best” when all seems bleak, to perceive divine presence in the shadows. It is in this very darkness that we are called to fulfill our sacred duty—to bring light, to kindle hope, and to shine the radiance of faith in a world that so often feels devoid of it. In the darkest moments, we are entrusted with the task of being the light, for it is through our efforts that the light of Hashem is revealed.
Rabbi Isaiah ben Avraham Ha-Levi Horowitz (1568-1630), known as the Shlah after the title of one of his major works Shnei Luchos Ha-Bris, was a renowned halachist, kabbalist and communal leader. He teaches us that the 36 candles we use for our “pirsuma d’nisra” during the eight nights of Chanukah correspond to the 36 hours that we communed with Hashem in the Garden of Eden. When we light the Chanukah lights, reserved for a holy purpose and no other, we can connect with creation, with all who came before us.
We need to do our best as “candle lighters” and to remember the lessons underlying the reasons that we do light candles. Chanukah is an opportunity to rekindle our inner tainted Ner Tamid. The rituals of Chanukah bring us the opportunity to “practice the pause” and multiply our efforts to rekindle and refresh our inner menorah. Even the dreidel can teach us a bit of self-improvement linked with our faith in Hashem. All it takes is one “turn” of events from Hashem, one spin of His, and our seeming adversity turns into something for our good. In the middle of darkness, we spin a dreidel and turn on the light for the world. We place our menorah near the doorway of our homes, toward the outside, to remind us not to focus only on ourselves and our own good, but to think about others and how we can bring goodness to the world. How we see ourselves, as able to bring the message of Hashem, of being a light unto the nations, of placing Him before ourselves, are important ways for us to do so.
Reb Nachman, the Hasidic master, (b. 1772) suffered with what we know as depression. He demonstrated his skill as a master teacher in that he taught that despair is a sin, since despairing means the complete absence of emunah and bitachon. This means giving up on all that is around and within us, our own strength, and on Hashem.
It’s been shown that the word דאגה which means “worry,” is made up of consecutive letters of the alphabet, excluding the letter “ב” hinting to the fact that who worries or mistrusts too much is missing this letter, as in “בתהין” meaning trusting in Hashem.
And if we truly give up, lack trust, and erroneously believe that we can no long bear pain, we will not work to repair what’s broken. Yet, isn’t that what we are as Jews, people who bring tikkun olam, repair to our broken world?
As we light our candles, let us be reminded that Hashem is not an “app” we open only in times of need. Instead, He is the source of light we carry with us constantly, illuminating our vision and guiding us through each day. Let us strive to make spirituality a continuous part of our consciousness, bringing light into our lives and into the world around us. Through Torah, mitzvot, and ongoing personal growth, we can each become a steady flame—radiating warmth and light in a darkened world.
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Michael R. Mantell, Ph.D., prepares a weekly D’var Torah for Young Israel of San Diego, where he and his family are members. They are also active members of Congregation Adat Yeshurun.