Introduction

For eight nights, all over the world, man lights a flame that cannot serve him. The Chanukah lights demand attention, yet hold themselves apart. They permit the warmth of their presence, yet refuse the intimacy of use. Their glow is generous, but their power remains deliberately inaccessible.

Such a practice seems to fly in the face of the central instinct of Jewish life. Judaism rarely instructs withdrawal from the material world. Instead, its rhythm is to take the ordinary and lift it upward, to press the mundane into the service of something higher. Somehow, Chanukah lights reverse this grammar. Here the sacred does not emerge from utilizing the physical for spiritual ends, but from the refusal to do so.

The Jewish home, trained to sanctify the world by engaging with it, is asked quite literally to resist that very instinct. Instead, it is offered a lesson in a rare kind of humility and self-restraint; the acknowledgment that some things remain holy precisely because they are allowed to exist beyond reach.

The Source

The Talmud (Shabbat 21b–22a) records a debate about whether one may use the Chanukah candles' light for ordinary purposes; the halakhah follows the position that it is prohibited.

A parallel passage describes Rav Yehudah in the name of Rav Assi forbidding counting coins by the Chanukah light. When Shmuel hears this teaching he asks rhetorically, "Do the candles possess sanctity?"—ostensibly assuming that only inherent holiness could preclude use. Rav Yosef answers by invoking kisui ha-dam, the imperative to cover the blood of a slaughtered animal (Leviticus 17:13). The Rabbis understand this may not be done with one's foot as it would demean the Divine command (bizui mitzvah). Even if the Chanukah menorah is not consecrated in essence, its light demands reverence. To treat it as mere utility would disgrace the sanctity of the command.

The early authorities further clarify; if indeed there is no sanctity, how should the restrictions be understood? Six formulations emerge—six ways of understanding what it means to honor the mitzvah once its flame is lit.

Rashi and Rosh: The Power of Perception

Both Rashi (Shabbat 21b) and Rosh (Shabbat 2:6) understand the prohibition as an issue of perception. Using the Chanukah candles misrepresents what they are for. Where they diverge is their understanding of what creates the misconception.

For Rashi, the candles must be left alone, “she-yihei nikar shehu ner mitzvah.” The responsibility falls on the kindler of the flame to protect that perception by refraining from any personal use. For Rosh (Shabbat 2:6), the onlooker’s error is triggered by misuse: if the kindler behaves towards the candles as if they were a mere utility, observers will conclude the candles were lit for mundane purpose. Where Rashi speaks of an obligation to generate recognition, the Rosh speaks of a duty to preserve it.

Both agree that the integrity of the Chanukah light is inseparable from human consciousness; the sanctity of the mitzvah is not merely a property of the flame, but also of the meaning one allows it to bear.

Rashba and Ba'al HaMa'or: The Menorah Model

To light a contemporary menorah is to stand, in miniature, before the golden Menorah of the Temple. For Rashba (Shabbat 21b), the prohibition stems from this connection. If the original Menorah was only for ritual use, so too must be its reflection in exile. The Ba'al ha-Ma'or (to Rif 9a) formulates this most expansively: because the Temple lamps and oil were entirely forbidden for benefit, the commemorative Chanukah lights are off-limits as well. For him, the candles are literally infused with the same original holiness they seek to evoke. (When ruling practically, he follows the view that permits ordinary use while barring actions that demean the mitzvah, like counting coins.)

Ran (Shabbat 21b) is explicit that all use of the light is prohibited, even for mitzvah purposes. His reasoning also flows from the Menorah-model. He proves this by observing that oils unfit for Shabbat candles are nonetheless permitted for Chanukah. On Shabbat, we fear one might tilt the candle to improve its flame, constituting forbidden labor. On Chanukah, there is no such concern, for its light is not meant for practical function at all.

The Pnei Yehoshua (Shabbat 21b) challenges this assertion. If the Chanukah menorah truly shared the halakhic identity of the Temple Menorah, the Talmud should have required olive oil—and yet it does not. The equivalence cannot be exact. The Chanukah candles recall the Temple's Menorah without inheriting its identity.

R. Yerucham Olshin (Yareach LaMo'adim) draws a fine line between these approaches. The Ba'al HaMa'or speaks in the language of issur hana'ah (prohibition of benefit), suggesting a quasi-hekdesh stance. In this understanding, non-use acknowledges the sanctity these candles are themselves endowed with. Rashba and Ran, by contrast, use the language of modeled non-utility without implying inherent holiness. For them, refraining from use is the language of memory.

Taken together, these interpretations illuminate two distinct ways of standing before the flame. For some, lighting the menorah is an act of remembrance, a symbolic recreation of the Temple's light. For others, it is something more immediate—a fleeting return of that original sanctity itself. To refrain is to remember; to withhold is to witness.

Tosafot and Ramban: Huktzah and Bizui

Halakhah recognizes that when an object is adopted for a mitzvah, it is no longer quite the same as before. The term for this transformation is migu d'itkatzei le-mitzvato—"since it was designated for its mitzvah." For objects within this category, halakhah determines they must be withdrawn from ordinary use.

Ramban (Shabbat 21b) locates the prohibition within this framework. Personal use demeans the command itself as it pulls the sacred back into the ordinary. For Ramban, bizui and huktzah are two sides of the same act: the lamp is set apart to preserve its dignity, and its dignity endures only so long as it remains apart.

R. Yeshayahu Slomowitz (Avnei Shoham) asks why the familiar rule of huktzah le-mitzvato does not resolve the discussion. He cites Yeshuot David (R. Dovid Povarsky), explaining that generally, huktzah forbids direct use but allows incidental benefit. Sukkah walls are huktzah yet still provide secondary benefits of shielding from elements. A violation would not be in benefiting from the walls, but in repurposing them entirely. In this vein, huktzah explains why the menorah cannot be used as a flashlight, but not why one cannot read by its light. The prohibition seems to extend beyond normal huktzah boundaries.

Tosafot (Shabbat 22a) explores whether both huktzah and bizui are needed. Something that is huktzah is subject to muktzah restrictions. If only huktzah applied to noy sukkah, the restriction would lapse on intermediate festival days. If only bizui applied, the prohibition would not extend to decorations that have fallen—and yet it does. Huktzah provides the temporal frame; bizui supplies the moral frame.

Nevertheless, Ramban (Shabbat 45a) collapses the distinction entirely. The prohibition of huktzah arises precisely from the imperative to avoid bizui mitzvah. The legal state of being "set aside" is not an independent rule but a formalization of the kavod owed to a mitzvah.

Which Uses Are Prohibited?

The Meiri (Shabbat 21b–22a) broadens the prohibition to include every kind of use, even those associated with a mitzvah such as Torah study. He grounds this in bizui mitzvah—one who derives benefit treats the menorah as something to use rather than revere. Lighting from one Chanukah candle to another is different, since it continues the same mitzvah.

Ran (to Rif 9a) raises the difficulty that banning mitzvah-use seems to contradict the establishment that using one Chanukah candle to light another is permitted. The Me'orot Asher resolves this through Rashi's comment that extra candles beyond the core obligation constitute hiddur mitzvah. Lighting from one Chanukah candle to another yields a hiddur. But lighting to read or eat, even for Torah study or the Shabbat meal, adds no hiddur to Chanukah at all.

The Shulchan Aruch (O.C. 673:1), in line with the Meiri and Ramban, codifies that one may not use the Chanukah light at all, not even to count coins, nor for mitzvah purposes like learning by its glow. Some permit sanctified use. The Taz forbids all use, even distant or indirect. The Magen Avraham offers a middle view: only acts performed up close are prohibited, while casual, passing use is permitted.

The Sha'arei Teshuvah (O.C. 673:3) cites the Pri Chadash, who allows one to walk in a room lit by the candles so as not to stumble. One is not obligated to close his eyes—such passive benefit does not count as "use."

R. Shmuel Wosner (Shevet Ha-Levi) addresses scented candles. Drawing on the Shach (Y.D. 108:27), he distinguishes that when something is designed for scent, smelling it is significant use. However, when not produced specifically for scent, that benefit would seem permitted. Thus, if Chanukah candles are not made for fragrance, any incidental scent is not considered "use."

Who Bears the Prohibition?

Is the ban directed toward the one who lights, whose action defines its meaning, or toward anyone who might incidentally benefit?

The Beit Ha-Levi (Al HaTorah) notes a distinction between Rashi and Ran. According to Rashi, the prohibition is about preserving recognition. The prohibition primarily binds the household, as their conduct shapes the message the candles project. Passersby who happen to receive incidental benefit pose no confusion—their gain does not retroactively redefine the act of lighting.

Ran, by contrast, understands the prohibition as one of substance. The Temple Menorah was set apart from all human benefit—no one could warm their hands by its glow. So too here, all use by anyone stands outside the candles' sanctified purpose. The boundary is not functional but ontological.

Where Rashi frames the mitzvah as an act of disciplined communication, Ran frames it as an act of reverence before sanctity itself.

Leftover Oil

Tosafot (Shabbat 44a, s.v. she-be-ner) distinguish Shabbat candles and sukkah decorations from Chanukah: leftover Chanukah oil remains forbidden even after the festival, and the Talmud recommends burning it on the eighth night. R. Yitzchak explains that a Shabbat candle exists for human benefit; the Chanukah candle is “m’ktzahu le-gamrei le-mitzvah.” Out of love for the miracle, one does not imagine it will end prematurely; hence if oil remains on the eighth night, it must be burned separately, with no benefit.

This appears in Or Zarua (II §30) and explicitly in She’iltot (Vayishlach §26): if oil remains on the eighth night, a bonfire should be made separately, “for once it was designated to the mitzvah, it is forbidden to derive benefit from it.” Lehorot Natan (XII §53) emphasizes that leftover oil must be burned separately, contrasting it with impure terumah oil, which may still be used as fuel.

Ran (to Rif 9a, s.v. i’nami le-shiura) nuances the designation: because one never calculates exactly when the flame will die, any oil that remains retains that designation. Abudraham captures the contrast: Shabbat candles sanctify through use, the Chanukah lamp through non-use.

Rif rules that one need only provide enough oil to burn during the time of obligation; once that time has elapsed, the mitzvah is fulfilled, and one may extinguish the menorah or even use its light (Ramban’s novellae; Ritva).

Ner Ish u-Veito (§34) turns to shiur: many authorities hold that only the oil necessary for the minimal burning time is consecrated, and anything beyond remains permitted (Maharshal §85; Levush 677:3; Taz 672; Rif, Rosh, Shulchan Aruch; Taz 677).

A version of the She’iltot’s ruling also appears in the Midrash Tanchuma (Naso §29) which then turns abruptly to a theological assertion: “You shall do according to the teaching they instruct you” (Deut. 17:11) and “You will decree a thing and it will be established for you” (Job 22:28). Both of these verses are understood to be affirming that rabbinic decrees themselves bear divine authority. R. Yosef Engel (Atvan de-Oraita, §10) reads this as an intentional juxtaposition, and exemplifies what is so fundamental about the discussion over a few drops of oil. One might have thought that rabbinic prohibitions bind only the person—that they cannot transform an object into something inherently forbidden (issurei cheftza). But the Midrash teaches dramatically otherwise, that God endowed rabbinic enactments with ontological force. Their word can confer object-status sanctity, rendering the leftover oil itself forbidden not simply because of a personal restriction, rather because they have genuinely rendered the oil to be a forbidden object. What was once a human act of designation becomes, through the halakhic system itself, an act of sanctification.

The Shulchan Aruch (O.C. 677:4) concludes: “What remains on the eighth day of the oil necessary for the measure… he makes a bonfire for it and burns it by itself, for it has been set aside for its mitzvah.”

Using the Candle After the Half Hour

The standard window of obligation—the half hour after nightfall—marks the period when publicizing the miracle lives most vividly. But when that time closes, does the candle's sanctity fade with it?

Shulchan Aruch (O.C. 672:2) rules that if one places more than the minimum oil, once the half hour has elapsed, he may extinguish the candle or use its light. The sanctity attaches only to the required measure.

The Maharshal (Responsa §85) accepts that once the half hour has passed, one may extinguish the menorah. Still, he cautions against using the light while it continues to burn. An observer who sees one reading by the Chanukah candle cannot know whether the half hour has elapsed—the act might seem like using the mitzvah light for personal benefit.

The Bach (O.C. 672) takes a more stringent path. He reads the Talmud to mean that the mitzvah remains in progress as long as the light burns. All the oil placed in the menorah was designated from the outset for the mitzvah's sake.

The Status of the Menorah Itself

If the Chanukah flame cannot be used, what then of the vessel that holds it? The Chesed le-Avraham writes that a menorah that cannot stand on its own is unfit, since it lacks halakhic standing as a kli. The Maharal of Prague (Ner Mitzvah) assumes this as well—the vessel is not incidental but essential.

The Avnei Nezer (O.C. §500) asks whether the menorah is halakhically part of the mitzvah, or merely support. Several sources imply that designation attaches chiefly to what is consumed—the oil and wick. The stand serves only as a base. He ultimately suspends judgment.

The Mishnah Berurah (O.C. 671:18) notes that those who fix wax candles to a wall should leave at least a finger's breadth between them—quietly implying legitimacy to lighting without a separate vessel. Rav Soloveitchik is reported to have strongly disagreed with the suggestion that a menorah is vital. The menorah may dignify the act, but is not its core.

Conclusion

The law introduces the Chanukah menorah in a sea of paradox. The candle is a real flame, yet seems the only holy fire not for any use. It is kindled in the home, yet faces outward; it evokes the Temple Menorah, yet flickers beside our tables and doorways.

Every restriction—not to touch, not to use, not to benefit—is a reenactment of that first lighting in the ruined Temple, when a small band of men found a single flask of oil and lit it anyway, knowing it would not last. Not for a moment was that light meant to serve any practical purpose. It served only to bear witness.

For eight nights, man serves the flame instead of manipulating it to serve him. This is the victory of Chanukah—not the triumph of might, but of measure. The Greeks sought to make all beauty serve the human will; the Jew answers by kindling a light he cannot use.

 (Adapted from the newly released “Generations of Light”. Thank you to Adina Feldman for editing.)