Entering
the Light - Why Seeing the Ḥanukkah Candles Is Not Enough 

  

We
all love candlelight. It softens a room. It quiets a home. It makes everything
feel spiritual. But the Torah never treats light as ambiance. From the very
beginning of Creation, light is so much more: Vayomer Elokim yehi or — vayehi
or - “And God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light.” 

  

Chazal
teach that this was no ordinary light: Or she’adam tsofeh bo misof ha’olam ve‘ad sofo - “A light with which one
could see from one end of the world to the other.” 

  

But
that light was hidden. When Hashem saw that future generations would corrupt
it, He concealed it for the righteous in the future. That light is known as Ohr
HaGanuz, the Hidden Light. And for one week each year, quietly and without
spectacle, that light returns. Its not hidden in lightening, nor in Nevuah –
prophecy. but as a simple flame on our windowsill. 

Perhaps
the question we can ask is not, Do you see the light? The question is: Do you
enter it? 

Before
we begin, I want to give credit where it truly belongs. I prepared a version of
this on the plane to Israel for a class. I was reading old newsletters for this
week’s perasha and this entire sugya opened up for me because of something my
dear friend Nathan Dweck wrote years ago. When I reread his words recently, it
pushed me to go back into the Gemara and the Mussar and really ask: What is the
candle actually demanding from us? That question reshaped this entire class 

  

The
Gemara teaches: Ha-ragil b’ner — havayan leh banim talmidei ḥakhamim - “One who
is ragil (habitually formed) by the candle will merit children who are Torah
scholars.” Rashi explains that this refers to the candles of Shabbat and
Ḥanukkah. At first glance, this sounds almost mechanical, light properly and
merit Torah scholars. 

  

But
reality does not support this reading. Many people are meticulous with every
halakhic detail — and yet do not see this outcome. Rav Yeruḥam Olshin cites the
sharp question raised by the son of the Ra’avad: if this promise is literal,
why don’t we see it fulfilled broadly? There are many who fulfill every
halakhic detail to perfection — and still do not see this result. 

  

The
answer given by the Saba of Kelm is devastating. The candle, he explains, is
not the goal. It is only a siman, a sign. He compares it to a messenger sent on
a mission, given a string tied to his finger so he won’t forget his task. If
the messenger returns and proudly reports, “I guarded the string beautifully,”
but never completed the mission — he has failed completely. 

  

So
too with the candles. They are not about wax and flame, nor just oil and a
flame, they are meant to awaken: Recognition of Hashem’s power and His love for
Israel, leading to: Kabbalat ol malkhut shamayim b’simḥah - Accepting the yoke
of Heaven with joy. Without that inner transformation, the candle remains
physical light — not mitzvah light. 

  

This
is why the Saba of Kelm could say his shocking words: “I never fulfilled the
mitzvah of Ḥanukkah in my life.” Not because he did not light — but because
fulfillment means surrender, not compliance.  

Chazal
rule that Asur l’hishtamesh b’oro - “It is forbidden to use the light of the
Ḥanukkah candles.” The Maharal explains that this is not practical
illumination. It is gilui kedushah, a revelation of holiness. You may look at
it. You may not use it. Because once you use light, you control it. But when
you truly encounter sacred light, it controls you. 

The
Menorah in the Beit HaMikdash functioned the same way. Its light was never used
for benefit. The Gemara says it stood as: Edut she’Shekhinah shorah b’Yisrael -
“Testimony that the Divine Presence rests among Israel.” The Ḥanukkah candles
testify to the same thing. 

  

As
I was walking back from Synagogue on the Yishuv, I noticed people sitting
around a firepit and enjoying the warmth during these rainy cool days here.
Firepits and Fireplaces have become so popular. Even table top mini fire pits
allow one to bask in a bit of warmth, stare at a flame and feel calm. That is
human. 

  

But
Ḥanukkah is not asking whether the light warms the room. It is asking whether
it warms the soul. To see the light is passive. To enter the light requires
surrender, loyalty, inner reorientation and the courage to live differently.
The blessing is not in what burns on the table. The blessing is in what burns
in the will and inside of us. 

  

Perhaps
we can suggest that before lighting this year, pause for ten seconds and
quietly whisper, Hashem, I am not just
lighting a candle. I am renewing Your kingship in my life. Then look at the
flames and into the flame searching for the inner light of creation. And ask
yourself one honest question: What does this light obligate me to clean up in
my life? Because the light does not bless the eyes. It blesses the will that
surrenders to it.