Post by Rabbi Neil on Dec 3, 2021 18:55:12 GMT
There’s a story that I really like to tell on Chanukah. If you were here last year, you may well remember it, although this year my relationship with the story has changed:
The Chassid asked: "Rebbe, what is a pious Jew?"
The Rebbe answered: "A pious Jew is a lamp-lighter. A lamp-lighter has a pole with fire. He knows that the fire is not his own, and he goes around lighting all lamps on his route."
The Chassid asked: "But what if the lamp is in a desolate wilderness?"
The Rebbe answered: "Then, too, one must light it. Let it be noted that there is a wilderness, and let the wilderness feel ashamed before the light."
"But what if the lamp is in the midst of a sea?"
"Then one must take off one’s clothes, jump into the water and light it there!"
"And that is a pious Jew?"
The Rebbe thought for a long moment and then said: "Yes, *that* is a pious Jew."
The Chassid continued: "Rebbe, I see no lamps!"
"That is because you are not a lamp-lighter."
"How does one become such?"
The Rebbe replied: "One must avoid evil. When beginning with oneself, cleansing oneself, becoming more refined, then one sees the lamp of the other. When, Heaven forbid, one is crude, then one sees but crudeness; but when himself noble, one sees nobility."
When he later told the story, that Rebbe’s son added: The lamps are there, but they need to be lit. It is written, "The soul of a person is a lamp of God" (Proverbs 20:27), and it is also written, "A mitzvah is a lamp and the Torah is light" (Proverbs 6:23). A pious Jew is the one who puts their personal affairs aside and goes around lighting up the souls of Jews with the light of Torah and mitzvot. Jewish souls are in readiness to be lit. Sometimes they are around the corner. Sometimes they are in a wilderness or at sea. But there must be someone who disregards personal comforts and conveniences and goes out to put a light to these lamps. That is the function of a true pious Jew.”
(Source: Chabad)
Thinking of that story, the lighting of the menorah every night during Chanukah serves not only as a reminder of the miracle of the oil mentioned in Talmud, but also as a metaphor for what it is for us to be Jewish because Judaism is not only about the self but about the self in relationship with other people. The Jewish task is not only directed towards ourselves but also towards others. Piety, being religious, isn’t just about the personal connection to God, but about helping others find their connection to God as well. But the menorah slightly challenges the story, in fact. It shows us that we are not lone candles in the wilderness, but that our light shines brightest when we are in community. Especially during a pandemic, we can’t go about exhausting ourselves jumping into oceans to light individual souls there. We need to be together.
Is being Jewish self-sacrificing? Are we really meant to put aside our personal affairs and spend our lives lighting Jewish souls? I used to think so but now, after years of therapy, I’m not so sure. It doesn’t help anyone if we burn ourselves out and end up lonely, isolated and in the dark. The strength of the Jew comes from community as much as it does from cleaving to God. When one Jew doesn’t have the strength to shine and glow at full radiance, they rely on others to do so instead. That’s the essence of minyan, of communal prayer, so that at least one of us says the right words at the right time. The menorah, then, challenges the personal zeal of this story.
Sometimes, we’re like the shamash, going round lighting the souls of others. If you have the strength for that, great. Sometimes, though, we’re like the other candles, needing others to help light our souls and then burning as brightly as we can surrounded by others burning brightly like ourselves. And sometimes we’re like the menorah – just trying to hold it all together. All of these are important, not just the shamash. Jewish spiritual tales are filled with lamplighters burning brightly with sacred zeal, but we need to give ourselves permission to be like the other candles, or to be like the menorah, holding it and ourselves together. The essence of community is not that everyone is a shamash, but that we all choose our place according to our comfort level.
This Chanukah, then, let us either light the souls of others, or let us glow with the radiance of others, or let us stand and quietly support others and ourselves. Let us burn in ways that light the souls of others, or let us burn quietly in our own way, or let us just be able to take the space and time to simply bask in the warmth and glow of community without having to burn ourselves out. Let us this Chanukah not all feel the pressure to be lamplighters, but at least let us be a part of the menorah in one way or another. That way, we can all feel the divine radiance and warmth of community this Chanukah. May we all feel that radiance and warmth, and let us say, Amen.
The Chassid asked: "Rebbe, what is a pious Jew?"
The Rebbe answered: "A pious Jew is a lamp-lighter. A lamp-lighter has a pole with fire. He knows that the fire is not his own, and he goes around lighting all lamps on his route."
The Chassid asked: "But what if the lamp is in a desolate wilderness?"
The Rebbe answered: "Then, too, one must light it. Let it be noted that there is a wilderness, and let the wilderness feel ashamed before the light."
"But what if the lamp is in the midst of a sea?"
"Then one must take off one’s clothes, jump into the water and light it there!"
"And that is a pious Jew?"
The Rebbe thought for a long moment and then said: "Yes, *that* is a pious Jew."
The Chassid continued: "Rebbe, I see no lamps!"
"That is because you are not a lamp-lighter."
"How does one become such?"
The Rebbe replied: "One must avoid evil. When beginning with oneself, cleansing oneself, becoming more refined, then one sees the lamp of the other. When, Heaven forbid, one is crude, then one sees but crudeness; but when himself noble, one sees nobility."
When he later told the story, that Rebbe’s son added: The lamps are there, but they need to be lit. It is written, "The soul of a person is a lamp of God" (Proverbs 20:27), and it is also written, "A mitzvah is a lamp and the Torah is light" (Proverbs 6:23). A pious Jew is the one who puts their personal affairs aside and goes around lighting up the souls of Jews with the light of Torah and mitzvot. Jewish souls are in readiness to be lit. Sometimes they are around the corner. Sometimes they are in a wilderness or at sea. But there must be someone who disregards personal comforts and conveniences and goes out to put a light to these lamps. That is the function of a true pious Jew.”
(Source: Chabad)
Thinking of that story, the lighting of the menorah every night during Chanukah serves not only as a reminder of the miracle of the oil mentioned in Talmud, but also as a metaphor for what it is for us to be Jewish because Judaism is not only about the self but about the self in relationship with other people. The Jewish task is not only directed towards ourselves but also towards others. Piety, being religious, isn’t just about the personal connection to God, but about helping others find their connection to God as well. But the menorah slightly challenges the story, in fact. It shows us that we are not lone candles in the wilderness, but that our light shines brightest when we are in community. Especially during a pandemic, we can’t go about exhausting ourselves jumping into oceans to light individual souls there. We need to be together.
Is being Jewish self-sacrificing? Are we really meant to put aside our personal affairs and spend our lives lighting Jewish souls? I used to think so but now, after years of therapy, I’m not so sure. It doesn’t help anyone if we burn ourselves out and end up lonely, isolated and in the dark. The strength of the Jew comes from community as much as it does from cleaving to God. When one Jew doesn’t have the strength to shine and glow at full radiance, they rely on others to do so instead. That’s the essence of minyan, of communal prayer, so that at least one of us says the right words at the right time. The menorah, then, challenges the personal zeal of this story.
Sometimes, we’re like the shamash, going round lighting the souls of others. If you have the strength for that, great. Sometimes, though, we’re like the other candles, needing others to help light our souls and then burning as brightly as we can surrounded by others burning brightly like ourselves. And sometimes we’re like the menorah – just trying to hold it all together. All of these are important, not just the shamash. Jewish spiritual tales are filled with lamplighters burning brightly with sacred zeal, but we need to give ourselves permission to be like the other candles, or to be like the menorah, holding it and ourselves together. The essence of community is not that everyone is a shamash, but that we all choose our place according to our comfort level.
This Chanukah, then, let us either light the souls of others, or let us glow with the radiance of others, or let us stand and quietly support others and ourselves. Let us burn in ways that light the souls of others, or let us burn quietly in our own way, or let us just be able to take the space and time to simply bask in the warmth and glow of community without having to burn ourselves out. Let us this Chanukah not all feel the pressure to be lamplighters, but at least let us be a part of the menorah in one way or another. That way, we can all feel the divine radiance and warmth of community this Chanukah. May we all feel that radiance and warmth, and let us say, Amen.