The Chanukah candles are unmistakably vulnerable. A flame is lit with intention, its wick steady for a moment, its light rising with a confidence it has not yet earned. The irony is unavoidable; the most delicate of winds, or a single moment of inattention can extinguish the flame almost as soon as it bursts into existence.

The law acknowledges this uncertainty. Nothing at the moment of lighting guarantees endurance. The mitzvah unfolds in real time, bound to a half-hour requirement that the flame itself may or may not fulfill. From this fragility arises several halakhic questions. What becomes of the mitzvah when an accidental gesture sends the light flickering into darkness? What of a case in which the flame must be intentionally snuffed out? The halakhic framework that follows does not dispel this uncertainty. However, it does teach how to inhabit this moment of disappointment as intention meets interruption, and when appropriate, how to find the faith to light again.

The Halakhic Conclusion

What happens if the lights go out? The Talmud (Shabbat 21a–b) addresses this question: if the flame is extinguished, must one rekindle it—kavta zakuk lah—or is one exempt—ein zakuk lah? The halakhah follows the view that one is not required to relight. Maimonides rules accordingly  (Laws of Chanukah 4:5), and the Shulchan Aruch (Orach Chaim 673:2) similarly rules that “the act of lighting constitutes the mitzvah (hadlakah oseh mitzvah); therefore, if it extinguishes before the time elapses, one is not required to relight.”

The Taz clarifies that here, the phrase “hadlakah oseh mitzvah” functions in a broad sense. The ruling is that the initiating act is the mitzvah as opposed to the sustained state of the flame—“hadlakah” as opposed to *daluk* (lit), not “hadlakah” as opposed to “hanachah”. Once the mitzvah has been performed within its proper time, the obligation is complete. Its later extinguishing, while unfortunate, does not undo what has already been achieved.

Rema adds that one who nevertheless chooses to relight may do so, but without a blessing, citing Rashba’s Responsa I §539 and Ran to Shabbat 9a. The Mishnah Berurah expands further: though not required, it is a “midat chassidut”, an act of piety, to rekindle regardless, restoring the light not out of obligation but out of appreciation and love for the commandment.

What “Zakuk Lah” Is Really Asking

The issues of “kavta zakuk lah” and “ein zakuk lah” demand articulation of the essence of the Chanukah lights. Two models emerge.

In the act-based model, the mitzvah resides in the initiating act that creates the display. The moment of kindling fulfills the obligation. Once that act has been done properly and within its time, the mitzvah has been achieved. The subsequent endurance of the flame is secondary.

In the state-based model, the mitzvah is defined not as an act but as a state—the ongoing reality of light. The candles must remain burning for the required shiur, the half-hour minimum burn time. Should they extinguish prematurely, the mitzvah has been interrupted and must be restored.

The Beit Ephraim (§63) frames the Talmudic debate precisely in these terms. According to (ein zakuk lah), the Sages obligated one to prepare the lamp with the proper measure of oil and to kindle it within the appropriate time. The law does not further bind him to maintain a continuously burning state for the whole period. According to “kavta zakuk lah”, the mitzvah includes the duration; the menorah must actually burn through the time.

This stands in contrast with the Temple service itself. Maimonides in Laws of the Daily and Additional Offerings 3:12, cited by the Minchat Chinuch 98:12, rules that if one of the lamps of the Temple Menorah went out, it must be rekindled. R. Chaim Soloveitchik, on Maimonides in Bi’at ha-Mikdash 9:7, articulates the conceptual distinction: for the Temple Menorah, the mitzvah lies in the ongoing state of illumination—that the lamps be burning continually before God. The Chanukah menorah, by contrast, reverses the relationship. Its essence is not endurance but enactment, centering on man’s act of creation of a visible sign.

If The Candles Went Out on Shabbat Eve

The Shulchan Aruch, following the Terumat ha-Deshen §102, rules that even if the Chanukah light extinguishes on the Eve of Shabbat before nightfall, one is not required to relight. The Terumat ha-Deshen anticipates the objection: since some early authorities maintain that the mitzvah’s time begins only after sunset, one might assume that a lamp that goes out before that time must be rekindled.

He suggests this is not so. The act of lighting occurs while it is still day, and the blessing itself of “le-hadlik ner shel Chanukah” makes clear that the mitzvah is already present at that moment. As it is impossible to light once Shabbat begins, halakhah recognizes the pre-sunset lighting as part of the mitzvah’s fulfillment, not merely a preparatory step.

The Vilna Gaon (Orach Chaim 673 note 12) reinforces this logic: on Shabbat Eve, inferior wicks and oils are permitted, which would be unthinkable if relighting were required. This leniency presupposes “ein zakuk lah”.

The Maharshal (Responsa §85), nevertheless, dissents. If the flame went out before nightfall, one must relight. The Taz (Orach Chaim 673:9) develops this stance, explaining “ein zakuk lah” as applying only when the menorah actually burned into the time of obligation.

The Keru’ei Mo’ed (§28) suggests that when a preparatory act is both indispensable and time-locked, halakhah may treat it as initiating the fulfillment, not as mere preparation. The Friday lighting, in that sense, already enters the sphere of the mitzvah as it begins the process that the arrival of night will complete.

If One Unintentionally Extinguishes the Light

Rashba (Responsa §539) was asked if one must relight a menorah that was extinguished inadvertently while adjusting it. He suggests that no relighting is required, for “lighting constitutes the mitzvah.” Consequently, if one nevertheless relights, no new blessing is said. This ruling is codified by the Shulchan Aruch (Orach Chaim 673:2).

The Maharshal (Responsa §85), however, rules that one would indeed be required to relight.

The Avnei Nezer (Orach Chaim §503:2) provides a conceptual bridge. The principle of “kavtah ein zakuk lah” teaches that once the act of lighting has been properly executed, its fulfillment is not undone by the flame’s subsequent failure—inaction cannot unravel the moment already achieved. However, this assumes the extinguishing occurs passively, without human agency. When the flame is lost through a person’s own action, even without intent, a different question presents itself: whether an act can undo an act.

On this reading, the Maharshal understands unintentional extinguishing as an operative deed. Even absent intent, the act bears legal force, and so relighting is required, though a new blessing is not recited. Rashba, by contrast, does not assign halakhic effect to an unintentional extinguishing any more than he would count an unintentional kindling as a valid fulfillment.

If One Intentionally Extinguishes the Light

The question becomes more pressing if the extinguishing is intentional and occurs within the first half hour. The Pri Megadim (Mishbetzot Zahav 673:2) understands “ein zakuk lah” as referring only to inadvertent extinguishing. If one deliberately puts it out during the required time, he must relight, though still without a blessing. The Ba’er Heitev (Orach Chaim 673:11), citing Gan Ha-Melekh, records a stricter minority opinion that deliberate extinguishing would obligate relighting with a blessing, as if the first lighting were void.

The Minchat Shlomo (II §51:2) argues that if the act truly required repetition, a blessing would be necessary. The omission of a blessing suggests that the original fulfillment remains intact. He further notes that the Talmud (Shabbat 21b) never resolves the issue by distinguishing between intentional and unintentional extinguishing, implying that intent is not decisive.

The Minchat Asher (Chanukah §9:2) presents a more local distinction: the mitzvah’s goal is displaying the miracle through a menorah that burns while people are in the streets. The Sages did not command that one hover over the candle to ensure its duration. But if he himself extinguishes it before the time elapses, the leniency no longer applies and he should relight, albeit without a blessing.

Intending to Extinguish at the Time of Lighting

A different problem emerges when the defect is present from the outset. The Shiltei ha-Gibborim (Shabbat chapter 2 §5, citing Riaz) insists that even though the law states “ein zakuk lah”, the initial act must be performed in a manner that demonstrates an intention for the flame to endure. A lighting placed where it predictably cannot survive, such as in a pronounced draft, is invalid.

The Mishnah Berurah in §673:25, following the Taz and Magen Avraham in Orach Chaim 673:10, 12, adopts this view. Lighting in a draft obligates one to relight in a location where the flame can reasonably last, though without a new blessing.

R. Shlomo Kluger (HaElef Lecha Shlomo, Orach Chaim §378) moves in the opposite direction. If the candle is, by its nature, capable of burning for the required time, and a later gust extinguishes it, irrespective of whether one might have anticipated this eventuality, the initial act stands.

The Minchat Shlomo (II §51:2) addresses one who lights with the explicit intention to extinguish the flame during the required period. Due to “hadlakah oseh mitzvah” requiring that the initial act create a flame capable of enduring the full measure, an intention to put it out midway renders the act defective from its inception—even if he later changes his mind and allows it to burn.

A practical question, raised by R. Chaim Kanievsky in Taama de-Kra, Vayeshev, concerns outdoor glass menorah boxes. To light within requires opening the glass door and exposing the wicks to the winter wind. R. Kanievsky suggests this is an unwarranted extension of the draft concern. In practice, the door is shut almost immediately. The brief exposure is simply part of the process of creating a sheltered flame, not a configuration meant to fail.

Should One Relight for Hiddur?

The Maharshal (Responsa §85) rules that while the law exempts the relighting of a flame that has gone out, one who seeks to fulfill the mitzvah in its fullness (be-hiddur) should relight. The Taz (Orach Chaim 673:10) endorses this view.

The Or Zarua (Laws of Chanukah §322) firmly rejects the inference that one should save the oil for later. While the duty to relight may no longer apply, the opportunity to enhance the mitzvah certainly does. The flame should be rekindled immediately, despite the lack of formal requirement.

Importantly, the Bach (Orach Chaim 673, citing the Likkutim in the name of Maharash) says that even if relighting itself is praiseworthy, it should not be done directly from another Chanukah candle. The integrity of each flame must be preserved. If one chooses to relight, it should be through a shamash or another ordinary flame, not by drawing from a light set aside for the mitzvah.

Ongoing Fulfillment While the Light Burns

Not every mitzvah ends the moment it is performed. Rosh (Pesachim 1:10), quoting Rabbeinu Tam, observes that the mitzvah of Chanukah lighting belongs to the category whose performance unfolds across the span of evening. The act of lighting may mark the beginning, but it does not exhaust the mitzvah’s meaning. As long as the light continues to burn within its designated time, the mitzvah continues to be fulfilled.

R. Akiva Eiger (Responsa §13) articulates the implications. If the flame still burns within its required time, then even if one completed the act of lighting earlier, the mitzvah’s reality remains present. So much so that in certain cases one may still recite the blessing even after the fact, precisely because the fulfillment is not yet behind the person, but continues to unfold with the steady burn of the flame.

Five Frames for the Debate

After tracing centuries of rulings, several conceptual frameworks emerge to understand the two positions regarding whether an extinguished candle requires relighting.

First, “mitzvot as moment or span”: Is a mitzvah fulfilled through a singular act, or does fulfillment unfold over time? Do mitzvot demand only a “gavra”-oriented action, or also a “cheftza”—a sustained state of the object?

Second, a Chanukah-specific question: whether only the act itself is required, or lighting throughout the entire time of the obligation.

Third, the two-tiered model: All agree that lighting is the mitzvah, and that there is value in maintaining the flame. The question is whether that value is mandatory or recommended.

Fourth, “potential counts as actual”: All agree that the mitzvah is continuous burning, but the opinion that does not require relighting maintains that the initial potential to burn the entire time is sufficient. Even if the flame later fails, a proper act endures—provided the lamp was capable of burning for the requisite time.

Fifth, “creating a ner Chanukah”: The obligation is not merely to ignite, but to fashion a “ner Chanukah”. If the oil is insufficient, the placement wrong, or the intent misaligned, the object never acquires its status. But once it does, the mitzvah stands—even if the circumstances later change.

Taken together, these models narrow the distance between the two main halakhic views. Both prioritize the act of lighting, and both prize the flame’s endurance. They differ in emphasis—whether endurance is part of the essential mitzvah, or an expectation layered atop it.

Why the Focus on Lighting?

Even if we accept that the essence of the mitzvah is the act of lighting, we are still left with an important question: why did the Sages structure the Chanukah lights in precisely this way?

The Avnei Nezer (502:5) offers a striking historical and theological explanation. The miracle of Chanukah followed the pattern of the Menorah in the Temple. There, the miracle did not occur at the moment of lighting; lighting itself could have been done even with oil that was ritually impure. The wonder lay in what happened after the lighting: once the flames were kindled, the pure oil continued to burn far beyond its natural capacity. In other words, the miracle was not about starting the light, but about its preservation.

Accordingly, when the Sages established the mitzvah of the Chanukah light, they placed the core legal obligation on the act of lighting. Once that act has been performed properly, the fundamental requirement has been met. The continued burning is profoundly significant and desirable, but it no longer defines the center of the obligation itself.

Rabbi Shlomo Stefansky, writing in Sefer Chanukat Avraham, sharpens this further by proposing that the mitzvah of the Chanukah light is, at its root, an obligation on the person rather than on the object. The individual must place himself in a state of “publicizing the miracle.” The act of lighting situates him as one who proclaims praise and thanksgiving. In this model, the mitzvah is defined less by an external object that must be maintained at all costs, and more by the stance and identity of the person who fulfills it.

One might add that this captures something essential about the inner drama of Chanukah itself. The Jewish people did not control the outcome. They longed to kindle pure light but lacked the natural means to sustain it. They did what they could; God caused their deed to endure beyond its natural limits. Our commemorative mitzvah is shaped the same way. We are commanded to do our part—to light properly, responsibly, and with the correct measure of oil. The continuation of the flame beyond that point belongs to God.

Conclusion

Chanukah recalls flames that outlived their measure, and yet the laws that guard their memory allow for no such reliance. The person who lights must prepare his lamp—oil measured, wick trimmed, vessel steady—so that the flame can reasonably endure. In a most striking irony, a Chanukah miracle in one’s own home would fail to fulfill its commandment. The act must begin in integrity with the full resources it requires, or it does not begin at all.

This demand, however, is not a denial of the miracle, and rather remains the truest way to honor it. The wonder of those ancient days was not eightfold endurance, but the courage to light at all. A Temple was ravaged, a nation exhausted, the future dim and unpromising—and yet a small group stepped forward, found a single cruse untouched, and set it ablaze. Indeed, Heaven prolonged the flame, but the real miracle to commemorate was man’s decision to dedicate all of what was left to Heaven’s ends. If the miracle is to be truly replicated, it can only begin with the most honest and sincere of human efforts.

The laws do not ask anyone to hold fire in their hands against the shifting winds of the world. They do request, however, to set the flame with care, to steward it where possible, and to not allow the fear of what might go wrong still the hand that strikes the match. The miracle began, and so it begins, long before the fire has a chance to endure in spite of its elements. Rather, it began the moment one chose to light at all.