Over the last nine weeks, darkness has descended on our world.
The heaviness of the situation in Israel—beginning with the atrocities perpetuated by Hamas on October 7, the ongoing war in Gaza, and the substantial rise in antisemitism throughout the world—has cast a shadow of darkness.
And yet, there are glimmers of light. Stories of miracles. People who survived. Hostages released. And friends coming to stand by our side in support.
When I was younger, I was afraid of the dark. Just like so many of our children, I wouldn’t go to sleep unless my nightlight was working. I needed to be able to see, something, anything. I couldn’t rely on what I thought was there; I needed to be able to physically see it. It was a fear of the unknown.
This week’s Torah portion begins with Joseph, a dreamer, sharing his dreams with his parents and brothers. The dreams anger the brothers who in turn plot to do him harm. When they are out in the field, away from their parents, the brothers throw Joseph into a pit, into a world of darkness. This was not the only time that Joseph found himself in a pit. Later in the story, he is thrown into prison, another kind of pit.
The metaphor of being in the pits is an idea of gloom, of utter sadness and depression. It is the lack of seeing light. It is not knowing; not seeing. It is a debilitating fear. It is what we have been feeling these past nine weeks.
How then do we overcome fear of the unknown?
Light is synonymous with knowledge and with happiness. We must therefore look for opportunities to bring light into the world. Each of us must be a beacon of light. Working at Bornblum allows me to see that light each day. I hear it in the hallways as our students sing. I see it on the playground when our students find new friends with whom to play. I see it in the artwork throughout the building. I hear it in the voices of students excited to talk about the tzedakah project they are working on or the way they speak lovingly about their teachers (something I heard firsthand from the fifth graders this week). I see it in the spark that they light in one another.
In the Mishkan (the traveling Tabernacle) and in the Beit HaMikdash (Holy Temple), we had a Menorah. The Menorah stood tall and was a shining light to the people. It gave us hope and symbolized our spiritual and intellectual growth. The illumination of the Menorah served as a beacon for the entire Jewish people.
It is no coincidence that Chanukah falls during the darkest days of the year. Only in the next few weeks do the days begin to get longer again, longer each day, as we add more light to our Chanukiyot (Chanukah Menorahs).
During Chanukah we add much needed light into our lives. Each day we increase the light and therefore increase our joy. Chanukah is called the “Festival of Lights.” We recall the re-dedication of the Holy Temple and the miracles that were performed over two thousand years ago. Chanukah is a time to think about how we are going to re-dedicate ourselves to the education of Jewish children.
Today, we lose sight of the true meaning of Chanukah. We forget about the Maccabees (Hammers), a small army who fought for freedom and defeated a much larger, stronger army. We forget about the purity of light, of knowledge.
The words of Al HaNisim (a prayer added to our services each day of Chanukah) mirror that of our Joseph story. We learn from Al HaNisim that at times we have lost our light; much like being in a dark pit. During our darkest days and nights, we must not lose our hope. We often need a spark to re-awaken us—to remind us of our purpose. Light has the potential to give life – not only physically but also educationally and spiritually.
As Joseph found himself in the pit, he undoubtedly struggled with his emotions, wondering if he would ever see the light again, hoping to get out of the darkness.
Each of us can light a spark in another person. We must use the light of inspiration and view ourselves as the Shamash (the helper candle). We must illuminate places where there is darkness, whether physical, educational, or spiritual. We are the ones capable of lifting someone from the pits and providing them with the opportunity to learn and grow. We do this by educating our children, by putting them in a community that not only supports them but lights up the path in front of them. That is what we give our children each day at Bornblum, but we cannot do it without the help and support of the sparks of light that shine in our community, our parents, grandparents, donors, and supporters.
Wishing you all a Shabbat Shalom and a Chag Urim Sameach, a happy “light spreading” Chanukah.
