REVERBER8 -- Hanukkah Kavannot, 5772
Each year, we put together words of intention and inspiration (kavannot) to help transform the simple act of lighting into a catalyst for something bigger – something deeper and more meaningful. This year, we’ll dive into old-school rituals and symbols of Hanukkah each night to uncover new layers of possibility and help reshape our experience this holiday. As you light, read, discuss, reflect, debate. Elevate, rededicate, reverberate.
With special thanks to my Hanukkah hevruta Ronit Tsadok, I wish you all a week full of light, hope and possibility.
L’shalom,
Rabbi Sharon Brous
P.S. Need a quick refresher on lighting? Watch this video
Reverber8 Night 1: Shehehiyanu -- This Magic Moment
My parents got a call one afternoon about 15 years ago from a man looking for my grandfather. “Tell him it’s his brother,” the man said. My grandfather was in his 80s at the time; my parents had no idea that he ever had a brother. My grandfather nearly fainted when he heard who was on the phone –his brother had disappeared 65 years earlier after a family rift when they were both 20 something. After a lifetime of complete disconnection -- weddings, children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, love, loss -- the brother came home, hoping to make amends before he died.
The Rabbis felt that moments like this called for a serious expression of gratitude. So they taught: when an old friend resurfaces, someone you haven’t seen for a long time, you say Shehehiyanu – a breath of surprise. You’re still alive. I’m still alive. That alone is worthy of celebration. (OH 225:1)
Each night of Hanukkah we say two blessings as we light: one for the lighting itself and one for the miracles. But on the first night we add a third – that same Shehehiyanu. We start this holiday the way we mark all holy days – by acknowledging that life is a blessing that must not be taken for granted.
Tonight, as we begin this festival of holy light, breathe. Look at the candles. Look at your people. You made it.
Thank You for letting us live to this moment.
Reverber8 Night 2: The Dreidel - You Never Know
In my first month as a rabbi, a couple came to see me. Both were psychologists and Ivy League grads. They ran successful private practices seeing clients in offices in their New York City apartment. About a year before I saw them, a fire erupted in their apartment and smoke damage made the place uninhabitable. They were ashamed to tell me that they didn't have fire insurance - they never contemplated that they'd need it. They moved in with friends - two weeks at a time in one guest room, then another, but they became painfully aware that they were stretching the tenuous bonds of friendship to the breaking point. The instability made them lose clients in droves, and before they knew it they had blown through their savings and were without a home, without a practice, facing a steadily rising heap of bills and no way to begin to pay it down. By the time I saw them, they were living in a homeless shelter in New Jersey, eating tuna out of a can three meals a day - full of shame and grief, shocked that their lives had taken such a dramatic turn in such a short time.
The dreidel has become the ubiquitous symbol of Hanukkah, but I find it strangely telling that its practice turns Hanukkah into yet another Jewish holiday that forces us to consider that life is, in some ways, a game of chance. Gimmel - you're a star - you win it all! Heh - half the pot, not bad. Nun? Nada. You're trapped and stagnant, a spectator to the vicissitudes of other people's lives. But at least you're no shin - losing everything, in an instant and without warning. And while it takes a dexterous hand to spin like my nephew Joey, in dreidel there is zero correlation between spin acumen and outcome. Kind of like life, sometimes.
In a time of such widespread economic uncertainty, when it's no longer the bizarre exception to see a person or family go from something to nothing, it strikes me that dreidel is compelling us to consider, even amidst our celebration: what sustains you when the shin hits the fan? The answer brought by Hanukkah is light, sweets and song. And the constant reminder not to give up - that every shin might be followed by a gimmel.
Reverber8 Night 3: The Hanukkiah - Equal but Separate
Mark Taylor had an aliyah this past Shabbat in honor of his and Barbara’s twin daughters’ acceptance into college. Mark, beaming, said to the community: God gives every person unique blessings. Our job is to help them uncover those blessings because the world needs to see them. About a year ago, David and I started to think about how to celebrate what is unique in our own children, to let them know that we see them, and love them, for who they are. We started to offer blessings to each child on Friday night, right before the traditional Parental Blessing (Birkat Kohanim), in which we whisper something special that we noticed in each child that week - an accomplishment, a struggle that was handled with grace, a display of spiritual strength. Our kids started looking forward to that moment – to see what we saw in them – maybe to begin to see it in themselves.
The lights of the Hanukkiah must stand at the same height, and yet each light must be distinct from every other. One must take extreme care to set up the candles in a line… so that each candle is separated significantly from its fellow (Rama, OH 671:4). It is the foundational Jewish teaching of equality and uniqueness - no one person is fundamentally better than any other, but don’t make the mistake of assuming that equality means sameness. Each person is a unique combination of gifts and talents and quirks and fears and insights that make him different from any other. In other words, what failed on a policy level (Separate but Equal) succeeds on a spiritual level (Equal but Separate).
The Rabbis teach that when one sees a large crowd of people she says Barukh hakham harazim – Blessed is the One who understands secrets (Brakhot 58a). In other words, seeing a group of people we are challenged to acknowledge that standing before us is not a nameless, faceless mass, but a rich, variegated gathering of people who each hold immense beauty, pain, love and loss – so rich, in fact, that maybe only God can sense all of the complexities within. Tonight, let’s give the gift of the blessing of uniqueness. Just as each candle has a particular light to share with the world, so does each person. Tell someone you love what makes her or him distinct from everyone else in the world.
Reverber8 Night 4: The Gelt – It’s What You Do With It
A few years ago Ruth Messinger received a donation to American Jewish World Service (one of my favorite tzedakah organizations – www.ajws.org) from an elderly woman, a survivor of the Holocaust. She had been involved in a lengthy and difficult negotiation over Holocaust Restitution with the Claims Conference and eventually received a check for $3,043.72. She immediately signed it over in its entirety to AJWS, having heard early reports of the genocide unfolding in Darfur. She told Ruth that while it had taken her a lifetime to receive this recompense, she knew two things: no amount of money could repay her for what she lost in the War, and the people of Darfur needed the money more than she did.
The Hanukkah tradition of giving gelt (actual money at that time) emerged in Poland in the 18th century, when children would bring their teachers gifts of gratitude around this holiday. Today we give chocolate shaped coins wrapped in foil – a reminder of one of the great challenges we face all year long, but heightened during these days of light, of year-end charity requests and one day sales. How will we use our abundance? Irresponsible use of gelt can generate instability and fear; gelt used wisely and generously can build possibility. For example, IKAR's Global Partnership, through Jewish Heart for Africa (www.jha.org), is working to bring sustainable Israeli solar technology to our partner community of Katira, Uganda, where - like in 92% of rural Africa - there is no light in the schools, no refrigeration for vaccines, and no energy to pump water. This is a project in which $20 will literally change people’s lives. You can get involved at http://ikar-la.org/content/global-partnership.
Remember: gelt really is a value-neutral proposition – what matters is what you do with it. The Rabbinic view is that we were given abundance for one reason: in order to share it. This year, do something positive and proactive with your gelt. Share it with someone who needs it.
PS. There are so many ways to give. On Christmas Day, IKAR members will prepare and serve holiday meals to the residents of PATH Westside. There may still be a few spots available - email christmas2011@ikar-la.org to find out how you can help. And there’s always life after Christmas – when the hordes of volunteers go home and the help is truly needed and much harder to come by. Check out http://ikar-la.org/content/take-action to get involved.
Reverber8 Night 5: The Shamash - What's My Name
One of my favorite Saturday Night Live sketches is What's My Name - when celebrity contestants are offered absurd cash rewards if they can only remember the names of people they really ought to know. "I've been your doorman for four years," one says. "I see you every morning and every night. I say hello, I make jokes. I know your son Avi loves outerspace. What's my name?" The joke, of course, is that nobody can ever recall their names (except Lady Gaga, who somehow remembers everyone).
The mitzvah of Hanukkah is to light eight lights - one for each night of the miracle. But we're not permitted to light the candles directly from a match. Tzarikh ner aher, we learn (OH 671:5). The lights must be ignited from a separate flame - a shamash - one that is not itself holy, but is required in order to make the holy lights shine. The shamash is essential if holiness is to happen - without it, the whole miracle publicizing enterprise literally falls apart. It's the ultimate behind the scenes guy.
Who are the people behind the people in your life? Dedicate tonight's candle to them. Name them. What can you do to recognize them? To honor them and let them know not only that you know their names (if not, make it your place to learn them!), but that you see them. You understand that without them you wouldn't be able to do what you do to bring your light to the world.
Night 6: Rock of Ages - Your Life Support
Last spring my mother had to go in for a scary, middle of the night emergency surgery. She’s fine now, thankfully, but it was a terrifying experience. In an instant and without warning, the room filled with doctors, swarming around her and prepping her for surgery. My father grabbed my mother’s hand and held her close, speaking sweetly and gently to her even as they wheeled her away. There was so much uncertainty that night, but my dad seemed to make a subconscious decision that even though he could do little to control the outcome, he would not surrender the one thing he could give my mother: the knowledge that, in her most vulnerable moment, she was not alone.
Maoz Tsur, often sung right after candlelighting, is nearly 700 years old. Growing up, we sang the stilted English translation:
Rock of Ages, let our song
Praise Thy saving power;
Thou, amidst the raging foes,
Wast our sheltering tower.
For some, God is the Rock - protecting Israel with a steadfast love. For others, the Rock is our people’s own courage and conviction. As 2011 comes to a close, consider who was your Rock this year. Who held you when you were scared? When you felt most vulnerable? Who helped you find your courage or your voice? Whether it was God, your partner, your best friend, your community or your dog, take a moment to reflect tonight on who gave you strength in the darkest moments and as you light, give thanks.
Night 7: The Light - The Thing about Regret
I sat next to Rabbi Stephen Shulman at Shabbat morning services in Jerusalem in November. He was in Israel on a Hutzpah Mission - he had come with 11 seniors from the Jewish Home for the Elderly in Fairfield, Connecticut - average age 91 years old. Many of the participants were in Israel for the first time, and they traveled around the country (and up Masada) in wheelchairs and with walkers. "This is just a marvelous opportunity," said one of the participants, "which I know that I personally will never have again." (Check out their beautiful 3 min video here.)
The essential mitzvah of Hanukkah is pirsumei nisa - publicizing the miracle. That's why we place the lights of the Hanukkiah in the front window - so that our miracle will be witnessed by everyone who passes by. That's also why we are called to light right at the end of shkiah, just as the sun has set, because it's the moment that most people will be walking home from the market (or driving home from work) and see it. But what if you can't get home that early to light? Should you skip it that night and try again tomorrow? No, our tradition says - if you can't get to in its optimal time, do it later. Even much later. Madlik v'holekh kol halaila - light anytime you can get your hand on a match and some candles that night - even if not a single soul will walk by your home to see the light of your hanukkiah (OH 672:1).
So many of us live lives shaped by regret - from pesky to paralyzing. If only I had made it a priority to get home in time for dinner each night. I only wish I had learned Hebrew as a child. If only I hadn't spoken to him so cruelly. I can't believe I let her get away. I'll never have an opportunity like that again. The Hanukkah response to regret: it's never too late. Pick up the phone. Sign up for the class. Get on the plane. Light the candles. It's true that it may not ever be what it would have been, but light that shines in the dark of night, even with nobody there to see it, is still radiant.
Night 8: The Temple - Bringing Heaven to Earth
For all that is broken after the Greek-Syrian assault against the Jews, the centerpiece of the Maccabean revolt is the restoration and rededication of the Beit haMikdash, the Temple. So for the last night of Hanukkah, a rumination on holy space.
There's no question: it's hard to hold on to the holy and spiritual in the details of the mundane and the material. That's why marriage is harder than falling in love, why showing up at morning minyan is harder than finding a moment of spiritual ecstasy, why building a real live community is harder than dreaming of one. But for a religious life to make sense at all there has to be a way to bring heaven down to earth, to make the dream real, to create a living laboratory for holy possibilities. The Tower of Babel was a quest to reach the heavens - a project of self aggrandizement and ego - but the Mishkan and the Temple were efforts to make God's presence felt here on earth - a reflection of spiritual humility and social commitment.
The rededication of the Beit haMikdash became critical for the Maccabees because they understood that space not only carries history, it also holds hopes and dreams. It sparks imagination, and, if done well, enables the full realization of vision. As we launch our building campaign and begin to work together as a community to build our own holy space, we need your support. Our goal is to create a beautiful, humble gathering space full of light, with room for exploration in art and music and revolution in soul, with space to nurture children's hearts and minds and grow their spirits, space to feed the hungry and advocate for social change. Whether you're an IKAR holy roller or a guy in Tampa who reads our emails every Hanukkah, whether you're a Jewish insider or someone who dances on the margins, we thank you for being a part of this sacred virtual and actual community and ask you to step up and help us create the space for the fulfillment of our vision for the Jewish future.
We'd be so grateful for a gift of $180, $1800, $18,000 - and an anonymous donor has agreed to match the first $18,000 we receive. We promise to put it to good use.
Read Past Year's Hannukah Kavannot:
8 nights - 5771
An Enlightened Hanukkah - 5770