Riding the bus out to Neveh Yaakov, you pass through a strip of Arab-owned stores condensed along a short stretch of the road. A few of these stores have colored lights adorning their awnings and walkways. When I saw these lights, I immediately thought "Christmas," and my thoughts were filled with memories of snowflakes, shopping malls, and Christmas carols. Wow, it's been a long time since I've seen any of those, coming into my second "holiday season" in Israel. I remember growing up in Maine -- every December we'd do the rounds, looking at all the beautiful displays of luminescence, and every year, I'd put in my anxious request for blue and white Chanukah lights, claiming that they could be arranged very tastefully. But, alas, I'd have to do with blue and white candles (which were suspiciously rare in those boxes of 44...hmmm).
So now Chanukah is upon us again, but there's no jingling of bells, no unconscious humming of carols to accompany it. So the question arises, if a central intention of Chanukah is to publicize the miracle of Chanukah, in a land of Jews, who is there to publicize the story to? Don't we all know it already? You know, it's the old story of oppressor attacks the Jews, Jews win, miracle happens, celebration to commemorate, right?
Strangely enough, there's a curious connection between mezuzah (the holy scroll on our doorposts) and Chanukah menorah (the eight-armed candleabra which, according to Jewish Law, is to be placed "on the left as you walk into your house, opposite the mezuzah"). Now, why is the mezuzah even mentioned? Well, it seems they both have to do with the home. What purpose does a mezuzah have there? How could it possibly do anything? I mean, if we're trying to protect our homes, a security system would most definitely serve us better (maybe that's what's really inside those things…it's been a while since I've checked). Well, in addition to a higher spiritual protection that we can't sense outright, a mezuzah serves as a reminder. When I walk into the house after a horrible day, when I come home after a fight with a co-worker, the mezuzah reminds me that I'm not the only one living in this house - G-d is here too. Now, that doesn't mean I have to set another place at the dinner table, but it does mean I have to think beyond myself. I have to become aware of how the words I say and the way I act affect those with whom I live. "G-d is here" means that there's no where I can hide… wherever I am, G-d is there too, even in my home.
That mezuzah must be on the outside, but its top faces inwards at an angle, pointing toward the home, focusing its energy inwards. But the menorah faces outwards; even if it's lit inside the house, it should be lit by a window so that it faces the public domain. Why is the menorah focused outwards?
I found an answer to his question smack in the middle of my Talmud class. The Gemara (a.k.a. Talmud) on Yom Kippur makes a digression to talk about where we put up mezuzahs. It wonders if we put them up in the same places that can contract the "house plague" (this plague sounds a lot like Ghostbusters' oozing walls, the whole bit). Upon which house does this plague fall? Upon the house of one who doesn't want to lend his things to a friend ("A hammer, oh, sorry…no hammer here.") When the plague descends upon his house he takes all his objects outside, lest his things "get the plague" as well. Once he does that, it makes hiding that hammer a little more difficult. "G-d publicizes the things in your house," says the Gemara. So it looks like G-d makes sure we learn our lessons in a poignant way - our possessions really aren't so much "ours" that we are allowed to keep them hidden when others need them.
This emphasis on getting outside of your home, outside of your self and your selfishness is a theme this time of year ("Only 21 shopping days left to spend your money on others!"). Putting our candles outside, then, is also an attempt to publicize the miracle of Chanukah. But these days, when we're almost 2000 years post-miracle, how are we supposed to relate to long-lasting oil or a horde of attacking Greeks? Making the past relevant, seeing what happened not as something that finished then, but as something that continues even today…it's a hard thing.
The Lubavitcher Rebbe saw the public domain as that lack of unity, that multiplicity which the light of Chanukah is trying to fix. That's where we need to put our light - outside. But it's not just about us kindling lights. To fulfill the commandment of lighting the Chanukah lights, others must see it. This point is so important that even if you are lighting your menorah at 2AM, you must wake someone up to see your light. The real miracle is the ability to go outside of ourselves and be a light -- for others to see. We all have G-d's light within us every day of the year, but Chanukah is the time, in the deepest dark of winter, when we need to put on a show. Even in Israel, even in a land of Jews who know the story of Chanukah, no one knows my story. No one knows your story. Let there be light.