Possessing God's light -- and sharing it with others

Growing up as a Jewish kid in Palo Alto, Calif., in the 1970s wasn't always easy. For most of my elementary school years, I was the only Jewish boy in my grade, along with two other Jewish girls. My parents, as committed, traditional Conservative Jews, taught us that it was important to keep a kosher home, observe Shabbat, build our yearly sukkah (booth), etc. Fortunately, my non-Jewish friends were very supportive of and enthusiastic about my family's religious practices; although I think the plentiful offerings of meals on a daily basis especially won them over.

Passover was, to say the least, a test of will; especially in the solitude of bringing my matzah sandwich to school amidst the plethora of chametz (leavened items) that my friends ate. But, ironically, Christmas vs. Chanukah posed less of a challenge. Once a year, my father had the fascinating custom of driving myself, and my three younger brothers, down "Christmas Row" -- a street in Palo Alto where the homes were specially decorated with Christmas lights galore. But even in the face of all those stunning, sparkling lights, I didn't have an experience of feeling jealous, but instead, a recognition that a custom belonging to another faith tradition was beautiful, just as what we have in our faith tradition can be beautiful to someone else.

Later in life, I learned more about the American tradition of decorating Christmas trees, and the significance of Christmas lights. For Christians, the tradition of light has its origin in the medieval custom of Yule. This was an ancient celebration of the winter solstice. During the short, dark days of winter, one would burn the Yule Log, which was believed to summon the return of the sun, and ward off evil spirits. The custom of the Yule Log, as a symbol of hope and anticipation or renewal, was adopted by the churches of Europe and eventually incorporated into their annual Christmas celebrations.

During the four-week season of Advent, candles, like those we light at Chanukah, take on a symbolic significance. Evergreen wreaths traditionally serve as the base for four candles -- three pink and one purple -- which symbolize hope, love, joy and peace. A new candle is lit every Sunday in the four weeks leading up to Christmas, as spiritual preparation and as a reminder to bring more of each quality -- hope, love, joy and peace -- into the season and into one's life.

While Christians perceive their own traditions of light through their uniquely Christological lens, we share similar motifs with our use of light in Jewish tradition. We light candles every week for Shabbat, reminding ourselves of the need to bring God's light into our lives, and the blessing of turning our hearts and minds to God's creative power. During the Sabbath, we refrain from kindling light, so as not to distract ourselves from the singular focus on embracing God's light. Finally, we end Shabbat with the lighting of the Havdalah candle; three braided wicks entwined into one; a reminder that God's light is stronger when intertwined with our own light, and the light of others.

Jewish mystics taught the notion of "endless light:" That our human mission as Jews is to constantly, with our performance of mitzvahs, increase God's light in the world. This is why, when we light our Chanukah menorah, we have one candle, called the shamash (servant candle), which is always situated slightly higher than the other candles, and this is the one with which we light our match. No blessings are said when we light the shamash candle, the blessings are said only when we take the shamash to light the other candles. This is a metaphor for how it is with our religious lives; possessing God's light within ourselves is of no consequence unless we share God's light and blessings with others. The sharing of light never diminishes our own, but always adds extra light to chase away the darkness.

It's no coincidence that Chanukah falls also during these short, sunless months of winter. Nor, is it coincidence that by Jewish law, when we kindle our menorah candles, that we are prohibited from "using" their light. We cannot utilize the Chanukah lights for reading or for doing any other tasks that require us to see by candlelight. The menorah's singular purpose is to be a beautiful reminder of God's light -- a light that we must bring into our lives and the lives of others.

God's light is beyond the sun, the moon and the stars; it is the light that illuminates all of the lights of the Heavens. Christians have their beautiful customs that belong to their faith and are special for them; as Jews, we possess our beautiful customs that belong to our faith and are special for us. And, yet, we can appreciate the shared motifs of each other's traditions, and celebrate together because this explicitly and most successfully helps to shine God's light even more radiantly into our lives.

It is for this reason that Reverend Dr. Jim Lemler, Rector of Christ Church, and I established our Sholom Center for Interfaith Learning and Fellowship, and we instituted our annual custom of a communal lighting of our Chanukah menorah and their Christmas tree, which took place a week before Hanukkah and 10 days prior to Christmas. Each of us is distinct in our own particularistic practices, and yet universalistic in our human embrace of each other, and God's light within our lives and our world.

May God's heavenly light shine upon you and your loved ones for a Happy, Healthy and Peaceful New Year.

B'Shalom U'vracha (With Peace and Blessings), Rabbi Mitch.

Rabbi Mitchell M. Hurvitz is senior rabbi at Temple Sholom of Greenwich, co-founder of the Sholom Center for Interfaith Learning and Fellowship and a past president of the Greenwich Fellowship of Clergy. He can be reached atrabbimitch@templesholom.com, and a collection of his columns may be found on the temple website at www.templesholom.com