Light and Possibility
As we kindle the first candle of Chanukah on Sunday night, we enter a season of growing light. The single candle on night one may seem small, but its glow reminds us that even the smallest spark has the power to push back the dark. Rabbi Hillel and Rabbi Shammai argued over how to light the chanukiah. Rabbi Shammai suggested we light all eight candles on night one, and decrease the light each day. Rabbi Hillel offered the custom we follow today, lighting one candle a day until the chanukiah is full on the final night of the holiday. The Talmud supports this custom, saying ma’alin ba’kodesh v’ein moridin, we increase in matters of holiness, we do not decrease. Chanukah embodies this teaching: each night our light expands, reminding us that hope and resilience are built steadily, over time. The miracle isn’t only in the oil that lasted for eight days, but in the courage of a community that believed it was worth kindling light in the first place, even if it may not have lasted.
This week’s Torah portion, Parashat Vayeshev, also begins in a place of darkness. Joseph, beloved by his parents and resented by his brothers, is cast into a pit by his older siblings. He is alone, afraid, and unsure of what will come next. From that moment of deep uncertainty, his life begins to unfold in ways he could never have imagined. The descent into the pit becomes the first step on a journey toward leadership, forgiveness, and healing. Parashat Vayeshev teaches us that holiness can emerge from the places we least expect it. What feels like setback, uncertainty, or despair can become the ground from which new possibility begins. Joseph’s story reminds us that even in moments when we cannot see the path ahead clearly, something sacred may already be unfolding.
Both Chanukah and Parashat Vayeshev invite us to pay attention to the flickers of light and possibility in our own lives. Sometimes this is bright and obvious, shining strongly; sometimes it’s faint and difficult to see, consumed by the darkness. But our tradition urges us to trust that flame - to nurture it, protect it, and help it grow. As we light the shamash and the first candle on Sunday, we remember that each of us carries a spark of holiness, and that when we share our light with one another, the brightness multiplies.
May the courage of the Maccabees to kindle this light and the resilience of Joseph in the darkest of places, inspire us to hold onto light even when it seems fleeting. May this first flame guide us toward renewed connection with ourselves, with each other, and with our tradition. And may we enter this holiday with open hearts, ready to notice the miracles, both large and small, that continue to shine around us.
Shabbat Shalom,
Eden Anolick, Rabbinic Intern
