Chanukah: Let Go

There is a strange Chanukah halakhah that we have been exploring in my high school Gemara class this week -- If your Chanukah candle goes out, even right after you lit it, you are not required to relight it. This is not to say that you can’t relight it or are not encouraged to do so. It’s great to keep the flame going. But you are not required to. You have fulfilled your mitzvah by the mere act of putting light to the candle or oil. That is enough.

This feels deeply significant to me. The miracle of Chanukah that we are commemorating is similar; they found enough oil only to last one day, even though they needed it to last eight. What did they do? They did their part -- only the initial lighting; the result -- the continuance of the flame for all 8 days-- was not their doing or their responsibility.

We are so controlling. We hold on tight to make sure things work out just so, to ensure the proper result. We want things to be perfect, to last just the right amount of time. But the halakhah teaches here to LET GO. Or as someone once said to me -- Let go and let God. Sometimes we hold on so tight, controlling every moment and watching carefully how things turn out, that we don’t allow the flow of God’s rhythm and goodness to enter; we don’t surrender. We hold on for dear life and try to make it all fit.

On Chanukah, we turn away from our this-worldly affairs and enter the world of the miraculous, the supernatural. This light of Chanukah is different from shabbos; on shabbos we are meant to use and enjoy it; it is ordinary light for our ordinary purposes of eating and reading. But on Chanukah we aren’t allowed to use the light; the light is of another order, from another realm; it has sanctity and miraculousness to it; it flickers with wonder, drawing us into another world. This other world only exists if we allow it to, if we make room for it, if we stop holding on so tight and forcing things to go exactly how we want and expect them to, if we make room for surprises, if we make room for the divine.

One other thing -- that same gemara (Shabbat 21a) talks about whether you can use wicks and oils on Chanukah that don’t burn so well. One is not allowed to use these on shabbos, but it turns out that on Chanukah you ARE allowed to use such imperfect materials. Although we mostly try to use the best on Chanukah and there is a minhag to use pure olive oil -- this is again not a requirement. The requirement is just the bare minimum -- some kind of oil and wick or candle, something at all to light with. We are not looking for perfection or even striving here. It is as if we are saying -- don’t think it’s all in your hands. Don’t think that if I do it perfectly --my life, my job, my relationships -- if I do it with the very best oils and I never allow for imperfection and substandard performance, if I hold on super tight and make sure everything is just right -- then, and only then, will it all work out. NO. The message of Chanukah is again one of letting go -- letting go of control, letting go of perfection, of the need to hold on tight and do things just so. You think it only works out because you are making it all work? No. There is a larger much more powerful force at work here.

Sometimes we feel like the world depends on us, that the earth won’t keep turning unless we do things right, that the class won’t learn unless we teach it just so, that our children won’t grow up happily unless we parent perfectly. This type of thinking does not allow room for God, for the flow of goodness that pours down continuously, with or without us. Yes, we need to participate, to take the first step, to light the light. But after that, even if we have done a substandard job, even if we are not perfect and our oil is smoky and impure, even so, the light will shine bright and clear because this is the light of another world. May we know how to let go and allow it into our lives.