Chanuka. Bright lights. From one to eight we recount the miracle. There is another opinion, however (surprise, surprise), which wants us to light eight to one. The difference between these two opinions is a telling reminder of the different approaches to light.
The blessing we say when lighting the Chanuka candles is (as is the one on Sabbat candles) a bit unusual. "L'hadlik ner shel Chanukah," to kindle the light of Chanukah. Rav Shlomo Carelbach points out that the language is not "l'hadlik ner b'Chanuka," to kindle the light ON Chanuka. The way we do say it implies that the candles we light are burning with some sort of pre-existing Chanuka light. Alright, so where's that light coming from?
There are two kinds of light in the world, clali (general) and prati (specific). Though without the general light of the sun we wouldn't be able to survive, its light is not able to reach into dark corners and deep valleys. To reach the more secluded places, we also need the specific light of a candle. The celebration of Chanuka commemorates a recapturing of the Temple from the Greek influence; fittingly, this salvation was achieved in the middle of the winter, when we have the longest, darkest nights of the year. The Gemara tells us that the time to light candles is "ad sh'tichleh regel min hashuk," until movement stops in the marketplace. That's long after the sun has set and the general light is gone from the world, leaving only the light that individuals can bring into the world. But why this strange language to determine the law of candle lighting? Is there really a set time that everyone leaves the market? Wouldn't it have been much clearer to write, "until three stars appear in the sky (that's how we know when Shabbat is over)?" Why not choose a more definitive indicator?
The Ishbitzer Rebbe learns that this word "regel," motion, implies "ragil," regularity. Chanuka, he says, is the time for becoming aware of our regular habits, our bad habits, and finding a way to get beyond them. Chanuka is the last holiday in a long season of teshuvah (returning to your true self) that began way back in the month of Elul as we were preparing for Rosh Hashanah (can you believe that was only 11 weeks ago!). Chanuka is the opportunity to see where we've come, to shine a light on ourselves. Maybe that's why our candles aren't to be used for seeing-by. Rather, they are to be lit in the window or doorway to be a light for others to see -- as a reminder, as an inspiration, as comfort that we are not alone in the struggle to perfect our individual light.
So we've explained "regel," but what about "shuk," the marketplace? The marketplace is interaction. It's where ideas are exchanged, where value is set, where attitudes are expressed. We are challenged there to take what we need without falling into the trap of greed and selfishness (two bad habits). Rav Daniel brought out a deep understanding of the shuk in his class on the parsha. Yosef is a dreamer, an idealist. He is beset by his band of brothers who, after thowing him in the pit and selling him off for 20 coins (say our sages), go and buy new shoes! What? Come on. As it turns out, buying shoes is a perfect example of a desire to be practical. Without shoes, I wouldn't be able to go anywhere or accomplish anything. For the brothers, with Yehudah as their ring leader, selling Yosef was a way to trade in useless idealistic dreams in order to gain an upper hand in the here and now. For them, the shuk is a place of getting, of taking. But for Yosef, it's a place of interacting with real personalities, a place of providing and growing towards potential.
That's the shuk to which we're trying to relate on Chanuka. A shuk where the "chen," attraction, of Yosef can be used to connect ideals, to connect personalities in a deep way. In the first two letters of "Chanuka" is "Chen." So back to the top. Why would Beit Shammai say to light eight down to one? To remove the "psolet," the extraneous gunk that's preventing our true, unified light from shining. Sounds good. So why don't we do that? Well, because there's also Beit Hillel who wants us to light one to eight. Why? To spread out the light. But what about the gunk -- won't it get in the way? No, says Hillel, because once our flames are lit, their holiness will overwhelm the "psolet." Woah.
"Getting-rid-of" is an important "avodah" (practice to live by), but more important is "bringing together." Yosef's energy is the energy of Chanuka. If we separate out the "psolet," we won't conquer it, for it may keep coming back in other forms, forcing us to conquer it again. Rather, by realizing it's there and building a brilliant scorching fire in that place (in us), there will simply be nowhere for it to exist but in the smoke from our fire…burn gunk, burn. May we all light and be lit this Chanuka, and may we all have the eyes to see flames that aren't burning wax, but are building bridges, building ladders, building souls.