If ever I talk too positively about my children my grandmother will interrupt me and warn against the “evil eye.” Her superstitious worries inhibit her (and me, in return!) from saying too much about how great things are, or telling others for fear that they might feel jealous and cast an evil eye upon me or my family. For centuries we have held these worries about “the evil eye” and not bragging or sounding too happy for fear it might somehow be taken away.
As old-fashioned and irrational as this may be, I have been thinking about this in relation to our Chanukah custom of placing menorahs in our windows. There is a commandment that we “publicize the miracle” of Chanukah. The tradition states that we should place our Chanukah lights outside the entrance of our house, or if not outside, then it should be set on the window, nearest the street. Only in times of danger, the rabbinic laws accept, can one light it on the table. Wow! Does this tradition not go against my grandmother’s instincts? Will we not be somehow gloating or publicizing our own victories and our own miracles?
Why is this custom of lighting menorahs and publicizing this act so central to the Jewish people? In fact, in the Talmud (Shab. 23a) the Rabbis suggest that “because its purpose is to publicize the miracle,” lighting the Chanukah lights takes precedence even over the purchase of wine for Kiddush on Shabbat. So, what makes this mitzvah so important?
I believe that this holiday is essentially a holiday about sharing and spreading the light. As the days become increasingly short and cold, what more do we all need than some more light? We need light, we need community, and we need one another. We are commanded to extend the light as much as possible and to extend the light into the world. Our world is very dark, not only literally but figuratively. And I believe that somehow the Rabbis understood that during these dark times we must publicize not only our light but also our connection to one another. If people saw that their neighbors were lighting candles, they would feel less alone. If people had lights to come home to at the end of a cold, dark day they might feel less despair. Even the latkes are a recipe of hope – they take a “poor man’s food” (the potato) and convert it into a delicacy.
I believe that the message of Chanukah is one of hope. Our children can help us in this larger project of increasing the light of the world. When we head into Shabbat, a time when we traditionally light not only the Chanukah candles but two more for Shabbat, my hope is that we can all find ways to increase the light within our homes and within our broader community. We certainly need it.
Shabbat Shalom.
Ilana received her B.A. from Harvard College and a Master's Degree in Education from Bank Street College. She was born and raised on the Upper West Side of Manhattan and now lives there with her husband and three children.
- Gratitude - October 31, 2014
- The Tower Of Babel - October 24, 2014
- The World Was Created For My Sake… I Am But Dust And Ashes - October 3, 2014