by Rabbi Sari Laufer
Almost a decade ago, Ben and I were lucky enough to spend two weeks in Thailand. As it happened, we arrived at our beach resort on the five year anniversary of the devastating tsunami that destroyed that resort and many others. In keeping with Thai Buddhist tradition, people gathered on the beaches—and beaches all around the region—to release lanterns into the sky. One by one, tourists and locals alike let the lanterns go. Into the sky they went; one became ten, ten became one hundred, one hundred became one thousand. And as we watched, we knew that all over Thailand, these lanterns—and the memories they carried with them—were filling the night sky.
I thought of these lanterns as the calendar moved into the month of Kislev, just two weeks after 11 souls were murdered in Pittsburgh. And, as we entered the darkest time of the year, with daylight hours growing fewer (at least for now!) As I had the privilege of teaching during our Rosh Hodesh Women’s Gathering this week, Kislev is the month in which Hanukkah begins, though we are not there yet. And beyond the Maccabees and the oil, beyond latkes, sufganiyot (jelly donuts), and gifts—light is the central theme of this holiday, and maybe even this whole month.
We light candles to mark our holy days; we light them each Shabbat. And at the end of this month (really, the beginning of December), we’ll light them each night. The rabbis teach that the lights of Hanukkah are meant to “publicize the miracle;” we are taught to place the candles outside or in a window, where their light can illuminate not only our homes, but the world beyond. And that is my hope for all of us as this month begins.
As winter approaches, Shabbat comes in earlier. Earlier and earlier each week, we are commanded to kindle light. So, I hope that our Shabbat candles burn bright this week, that their light reaches up and out like those lanterns I saw, because when the world is dark—literally and figuratively—it is up to us to bring the light.
Hodesh Tov and Shabbat Shalom.