Why do these lights differ from all other lights? - The Jewish Chronicle

We often light candles in Judaism. We light candles to welcome in Shabbat and festivals, to end Shabbat and to remember a loved one on the anniversary of their passing. And then of course there is the festival of lights – Chanukah.

Yet Chanukah stands apart from all other ritual candle-lighting. We are forbidden to use the lights in any way, but we just look at them. Chanukah is all about “seeing’ the lights”. On lighting the chanukiah we recite a paragraph called Haneirot Halalu. This essentially describes the purpose and function of the Chanukah candles, and declares: “During all the eight days of Chanukah these lights are sacred, neither is it permitted us to make any profane use of them; but we are only to look at them.”

This emphasis on just enjoying looking at the Chanukah flames is reflected in the laws of Chanukah as well. The Talmud states that a chanukiah should not be placed higher than approximately 10 metres because it would then be outside of one’s natural visual field. Similarly the Talmud records considerations of which oils were preferable to use on Shabbat and Chanukah respectively.

The considerations were entirely different. On Shabbat oils were chosen for igniting easily and efficiently, as the whole purpose of Shabbat candles is for their light to be utilised. By contrast, because the Chanukah candles are only to be looked at, the choicest oil to be used is the one which creates the nicest looking flames.

Nowadays, weeks before Chanukah arrives the shops are replete with a multitude of different candles and oils. There is an atmosphere of excitement as people mill around the shelves, deliberating which to use. While we may attribute this to modern-day consumerism, it is in fact evident in the talmudic discussions.

The sage Rava chose sesame oil so that the beautiful flames would last longer and Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi chose olive oil as the quality of the flame was purer. The aesthetic element of Chanukah seems to somehow be integral to its key ritual and message.

It is unusual to have a ritual so focused on the visual. We are commanded to hear the shofar, hear the Megillah and listen to the prayer service. We are an oral nation. The Torah warns repeatedly against “straying after what your eyes see”, encouraging us to rather “listen”to the voice of God and morality.

The Shema prayer is all about listening: “Hear, O Israel”, and in it we affirm that Jewish continuity is contained in the way we speak and educate our children, from one generation to the next. Through requiring us to “hear”, Judaism makes us doubt the notion that “seeing is believing”.

Even more curious is the fact that of all our many rituals, it is Chanukah which focuses on the visual. Visual culture stems from the ancient Greeks.

Rabbi Sacks highlighted the differences between the two cultures: “Greece was a profoundly visual culture. Its greatest achievements had to do with the eye, with seeing. It produced some of the greatest art, sculpture and architecture the world has ever seen …Judaism offered a radical alternative. It is faith in a God we cannot see, a God who cannot be represented visually.”

If Chanukah celebrates the triumph of Jewish values over Hellenism, we would expect that its traditions would exude the spirit of that triumph. Instead through their legislation, the sages essentially wove Hellenistic values into Chanukah.

Rather than running away from visual culture, the Chanukah candles engage with it. They invite us into a conversation about how much we can trust what we see. As we watch the candles burn, we recall the little cruse of oil which appeared to have enough oil for only one day, but in actuality lasted for eight days.

The symbolism of the candles is profound. As they beckon us, they also warn us in their own way. What we see will always be a strong influence. Yet just like Chanukah, we must recall that things are not always as they seem.

Still today, there are too many examples of judgments made based on the superficial level of what we see. The historic Euro finals which united Britons ended with shocking racism, with voices attributing defeat in football to the colour of players’ skin. One in three people see individuals with disabilities as being less productive than those without.

King Solomon wrote, “The candle of God is the soul of a person”. Light represents life, and the multiple candles lit on Chanukah reflect the diversity of humankind. When we “see” people, do we also see their potential? By bequeathing us the opportunity to sit around the Chanukah candles and watch the flames flicker, perhaps the sages of yesteryear were inviting us to stop, reflect and reaffirm our belief in the tenacity and depth of the human spirit beyond the superficial level of just seeing.

Rebbetzin Levin is at South Hampstead United Synagogue