It can be hard when we approach December to find light. The days are short, the nights are long. Many believe that is why Chanukah, the festival of light falls in Kislev. Kislev begins this week on Thursday.

This past weekend I experienced a new level of Interfaith Dialogue. I received a phone call from someone I couldn’t hear very well but who wants to participate in our Interfaith Thanksgiving service next week. She was the Muslim voice we were looking for. But she had a proposition, could I attend an interfaith event the next night to talk about light in Judaism. I agreed. I drove out to the address, getting lost along the way, but getting to see a rainbow on my way. Great—it reminded me that a rainbow is a symbol of the Divine covenant with all people—and it is the perfect balance between light and dark, sun and rain. I arrive at the MA Center, and it turns out that it is an ashram. Ablaze in light. This is Dewali, the Indian Festival of Light. The center is beautiful. The altar is filled with hundreds of oil lamps and draped with tiny Christmas lights. I am the last speaker of a panel that includes my new Muslim friend, a Mennonite, a Sikh, the head of the ashram, a Bahai woman. Our stories are all so similar. Each of us is supposed to present about light in our faith traditions for five minutes. Only five minutes? I represent a five thousand year tradition.

I begin with saying something about the rainbow. It was too profound not to mention. Then, I talked about the Bible which begins, “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth…And God said, “Let there be light.” And there was light and God saw that it was good.”  I told the story of Rabbi Luria. Just as the world was created, God took a breath, inhaled, to make room for this glorious creation, we call that tzimtzum and some liken it to the Big Bang Theory. I urged the people present to try it, to take a breath inward and create space. This practice of tzimtzum is something we share with Hindus, Buddhists and others who meditate. Luria teaches that the Divine Light was contained in special vessels, kelim. But the light was so bright and so powerful, those vessels shattered and the shards scattered. Most of the divine light was returned to God. Our job is to gather the remaining sparks together and repair the world, make the world whole again. That is what we mean when we talk about Tikkun Olam, repairing the world. This was like the vessels of light that the Muslim woman described.

Then I talked about this verse from Psalms:
Light is sown for the righteous, and joy for the upright in heart. This was the verse that I used for my ordination speech. Since Joy is my middle name, I like this idea that joy comes to the righteous. But not until the righteous actively participate in sowing light–in doing good deeds and making the world whole. The idea of sowing light, planting seeds of goodness inspires me.

Then I told a story of Rabbi Lawrence Hoffman, who once asked a seminar I attended what does light mean in Judaism. No one answered and he said that once he asked the same question and an older woman said, “Light is the symbol of the divine.” He scratched his head wondering where she got that from. She answered, page 11 of the Union Prayer Book. It was part of the Friday night candle lighting ceremony and that reading still answers the question well:
Come let us welcome the Sabbath. May its radiance illumine our hearts as we kindle these tapers.
Light is the symbol of the divine, “The Eternal G-d is our light and our salvation.
Light is the symbol of the holiness within each of us, “the human spirit is the light of G-d.”
Light is the symbol of the divine law, “For the commandment is a lamp and the Torah is a light.”
Light is the symbol of Israels mission, as it is written, “I have set you for a covenant of the people for a light unto the nations.”
Page 7, Union Prayer Book, Chicago Sinai Congregation Edition.

Candles are used to increase our joy. We bless candles to sanctify time, to make it holy and set apart. We do this every Friday night and again for Jewish festivals. Shabbat is a time of welcoming guests and angels. The Sikh had spoken about the importance of hospitality and having a tent open to all four sides. I told the story of Abraham and Sarah’s tent and how it was open to all four sides for precisely the same reason. To welcome the angels, the messengers, stranger and our guests.

In every Jewish congregation there is a ner tamid, an eternal light that never goes out and that hangs over the ark that houses the Torah scrolls. This is a reminder of G-ds presence. In my home congregation, Temple Emanuel of the Merrimack Valley, we had the first solar ner tamid dedicated in the 70s because the sun is eternal. Truth be told that there is a battery hooked up to the solar panel because solar power is not so reliable during long New England winters nor does the Sun shine at night.

The concept of a ner tamid is from the Bible. It was one of holy vessels in the Tabernacle and then later in the Holy Temple. When the Macabees went to rededicate the Temple in 165 BCE, how there was only enough oil to last one day. As an act of faith, they rededicated the temple and the oil lasted eight days, long enough to make new oil. The rabbis in the Talmud argued about how to celebrate Chanukah. Some said it was about publicizing the miracle, so that the Chanukah menorot were placed in the courtyards so that anyone walking in the public square could see. Others were less concerned about the miracle and wanted us to light in descending order, eight lights the first day, down to one the last day, like the oil that eventually was consumed Rabbi Hillel won this argument saying that we should add a light each night. Our joy increases as our light increases.

At the end of Shabbat, when three stars appear in the Saturday evening sky, Jews gather once again to separate Shabbat from the rest of the week and return to ordinary time. As part of that we light a havdalah candle, a braided light. Here the blessing is for fire. The symbolism depends on the number of wicks. It must have at least two. We began Shabbat by lighting at least two separate tapers. During Shabbat we come together. I have seen three wick candles, four wick ones representing the four seasons, the four corners of the world, or the four mystical worlds, six or seven wicks representing the six days of creation or the seven days of the week.

We checked to make sure there were at least three stars, lit the havdalah candle and sang the blessing. Then we all went outdoors into the cold November evening and enjoyed fireworks.

A new note: As I post this blog this evening I am acutely aware of the escalating violence in the Middle East. I went to Tufts. Our motto, in Latin, is pax et lux, peace and light. May it be   G-d’s will to bring light and peace to all peoples. Perhaps, my invitation by a Muslim woman to attend an ashram celebration of Dewali, with Jews, Christians, Buddhists, Hindus and Muslims does exactly that.