I know that for many people (and particularly for Amazon), this time of year is filled with favorite holidays — Hanukkah and Christmas often arriving together, homes glowing with candles and lights, children waiting with excitement for gifts of love, and families searching for a bit of comfort in the coldest, darkest season of the year.
Through my studies, I have noticed that there is something curious about Hanukkah. For most Jewish holidays, ancient sages devoted entire volumes of discussion to their meaning and practices. But for Hanukkah, there are only a few pages. And those pages begin with a simple, surprising question: Mai Hanukkah? — “What is Hanukkah?”
Why ask such a basic question?
A beautiful answer suggests this: when we see a faint light in the distance — something small, fragile, and hard to define — our first instinct is to ask, “What is that?” Hanukkah is that kind of light: a flicker of hope in a darkened world, a small flame pointing toward something much larger than itself.
At its heart, Hanukkah began with an act of courage by a small group of people who refused to let their faith, dignity, and future be extinguished. When they returned to their desecrated Temple, they found a single small jar of oil, enough for only one night.
But imagine that jar. Someone had hidden it away in a moment of chaos — perhaps with foresight, perhaps with fear, perhaps simply with love. A quiet hope that one day, someone would find it, and light would return. How many whispered prayers, how much longing for the future, might have been sealed inside that small container?
And so, the miracle of Hanukkah is not only that the oil lasted longer than expected. It is that the light was found at all.
And this is where Hanukkah and Christmas quietly meet.
Both holidays live in the deepest darkness of the year and rely on the same spiritual truth: light is not something we wait for; it is something we bring.
Each of us carries a hidden spark. We each carry a small, sealed place of goodness, courage, and compassion. It can be buried (particularly in challenging times) under fear, cynicism, distraction, or exhaustion. But sometimes it takes only a single act of kindness, forgiveness, or moral bravery to uncover it.
In a world that often feels dim, the task of this season is not to deny the darkness, but to add light one small act at a time. Maybe this year, adding light means reaching out to someone who feels alone. Maybe it means forgiving someone, standing up for truth and for what is right, or quietly helping where no one will notice.
When our tradition asks, “What is Hanukkah?” it is really asking each of us: What kind of light will you bring?
May this season be filled with light for each and every one of us.
A Happy Hanukkah and Merry Christmas to all.
David J. Lerner is the rabbi at Congregation B'nai Sholom-Beth David in Rockville Centre.
