We cannot help but be enamored by the beautifully lit menorahs as they illuminate our windowsills throughout the holiday of Chanukah. The dancing flames atop the candles are mesmerizing and can immediately catch the eye of any passerby. Yet, what is so interesting about the lights of the menorah is that we are not allowed to have any benefit from them. Famously, we recite the passage of “Haneirot Hallalu” following the lighting of that first candle, and in this passage we add the words: “ve’ain lanu reshut l’hishtamesh bahem ela lirotam bilvad” — And we do not have the permission to use them [the lights], just to look at them.” 

If we are not meant to use the candles for illumination, then what purpose do they serve? You might answer that they are there to look at, after all that is exactly what we say in the passage of “Haneirot Hallalu” quoted above. But in all honesty, how many people actually sit and observe their menorah after it is lit, how many people would turn on a lamp in their home and just stare at it? Not only is this not done, but it is actually a danger to our eyesight to look directly at a light source for too long. We must therefore endeavor to understand why we light candles if not to benefit from their radiance. 

The Talmud (Sukkah 46a) notes that there are two elements of this mitzvah, lighting and observing the candles. If one is lighting, then on the first night, three blessings are recited, and on the subsequent nights, two. However, if one is simply watching, then on the first night, two blessings are recited and then one blessing on the nights to follow. The observer does not recite the blessing of “l’hadlik ner shel Chanukah” but still says “she’asa nisim l’avoteinu,” because he is involved in the acknowledgement and publicization of the miracle. Although we infrequently arrive at the halachic reality in which someone would only observe and not light (or have someone light on their behalf), this is a potential practice that one can theoretically utilize.  

Tosafot (ibid) question this odd practice, contrasting lighting Chanukah candles to other mitzvot. The Baalei Tosafot wonder: why is it that regarding other commandments such as lulav and sukkah that we are not obligated or even inclined to gaze upon them, whereas with Chanukah that seems to be one of the central facets of the commandment? They note that it is because of our appreciation for the unusual miracle of Chanukah that we are compelled to thank Hashem, even when we are not fulfilling the commandment of lighting on our own. 

Moreover, there is indeed a lesser known but compelling custom that developed over the years, which encourages those who light to sit by the menorah for a period of time. Rabbi Eliyahu David Rabinowitz-Teomim (ADeReT), father-in-law of Rabbi Avraham Yitzchak HaKohen Kook, was a proponent of such a custom and he writes about his great love for the commandment of lighting the Chanukah candles, and how he would be sure to have them lit for as long as possible. He describes his practice as follows:1

התענגתי לשבת בחדר שבו הנרות, לראותם ולהסתכל בהם בכל רגע, ולא הלכתי מאותו החדר רק כשהייתי אנוס על פי עבודת הציבור.

I would take pleasure in sitting in the room with the candles, to look and gaze upon them for every moment, and I would not leave the room unless there was a great need for me to be involved with communal work.

Indeed, others shared in such a custom as well, and it is appropriate for one, at the very least, to spend a few moments gazing at the candles and internalizing what they represent – the great miracles and support that our Creator has and continues to provide for His beloved people. 

Somewhat reminiscent of us turning toward the flames of the menorah is the Biblical scene in which Moshe Rabbeinu turns toward the flame of the burning bush. 

וַיֵּרָא מַלְאַךְ ה' אֵלָיו בְּלַבַּת אֵשׁ מִתּוֹךְ הַסְּנֶה וַיַּרְא וְהִנֵּה הַסְּנֶה בֹּעֵר בָּאֵשׁ וְהַסְּנֶה אֵינֶנּוּ אֻכָּל. וַיֹּאמֶר מֹשֶׁה אָסֻרָה נָּא וְאֶרְאֶה אֶת הַמַּרְאֶה הַגָּדֹל הַזֶּה מַדּוּעַ לֹא יִבְעַר הַסְּנֶה. וַיַּרְא ה' כִּי סָר לִרְאוֹת וַיִּקְרָא אֵלָיו אֱלֹהִים מִתּוֹךְ הַסְּנֶה וַיֹּאמֶר מֹשֶׁה מֹשֶׁה וַיֹּאמֶר הִנֵּנִי.

An angel of the Lord appeared to him in a blazing fire out of a bush. He gazed, and there was a bush all aflame, yet the bush was not consumed. Moses said, “I must turn aside to look at this marvelous sight; why doesn’t the bush burn up?” When the Lord saw that he had turned aside to look, God called to him out of the bush: “Moses! Moses!” He answered, “Here I am.” 

Exodus 3:2-4

Rabbi Avraham Schorr2 suggests that there is a deep connection between this verse and the month of Kislev in which we celebrate the holiday of Chanukah. Notice in the bolded words above that the first letter of each of these words, when combined and rearranged, spells out  "כסלו"—“Kislev.” The reason being, says Rabbi Schorr, that it is specifically during this time of year that we must “…awaken within ourselves the yearning to see this ‘great light,’ to see the burning bush, the fire of holiness and Godliness that burns within us.” 

With this, we can understand that the transcendent custom of gazing into the flames of the menorah is much deeper than the recognition of the great miracles that Hashem did for us so many years ago. Rather, when we look into the flames, we are to reflect on the fire that exists within each and every one of us; that we possess the greatness, strength, and courage to become the best versions of ourselves. As the flames dance in front of our eyes, we are meant to yearn for the sanctity and potential that we have to grow to unprecedented heights in our relationship with our Creator. 

How does looking at a fire enable us to do this? What is it about the contemplative state of staring at the flames of the menorah that might help us achieve a heightened level of inner confidence? Life naturally moves at a rapid pace. In fact, our rabbis were sensitive to this reality when they taught us, "אָנוּ רָצִים וְהֵם רָצִים. אָנוּ רָצִים לְחַיֵּי הָעוֹלָם הַבָּא, וְהֵם רָצִים לִבְאֵר שַׁחַת" – “We run and they run. We run to the World to come, and they run to a life of futility.”3 While we typically use this statement as a prooftext to living a life of Torah and mitzvot, perhaps even more interesting is that everyone is running somewhere. This is the natural way of the world, that life is often very busy. 

Perhaps Chanukah offers us the opportunity to stop running, for just a few days. The eight days of Chanukah are meant for self-reflection, meditation, and rejuvenation. This time of year, when the nights are their darkest and it is easiest to lose track of who we are and what we are here to accomplish, Chanukah offers us the chance to take a break from doing in order to ponder who we are and who we can be. In short, Chanukah is a holiday of mindfulness. 

In the late 1970’s a professor by the name of Jon Kabat-Zinn started a movement that would fundamentally change the way the world viewed treatment of physical and mental illness. Instead of seeking external remedies, mindfulness seeks to find a solution from within. Kabat-Zinn explains, “Mindfulness is awareness that arises through paying attention, on purpose, in the present moment, non-judgmentally…in the service of self-understanding and wisdom.” It may sound simple, or even too good to be true, but mindfulness, when practiced correctly, has been found to be an effective tool in the treatment of chronic diseases and disorders.4 There is an incredible capacity for self-healing that we can achieve by simply being in the moment. 

This is the hidden meaning behind the Chanukah candles. We may not have permission to use them, because that is all we ever do; we are always doing and in pursuit of something. On Chanukah, we may only look at them, reflect on their meaning and on our greater purpose. If we can take these eight days and utilize them to stop running and start introspecting, then although we may not use the Chanukah candles for illumination, we will instead be a source of illumination to the world.

Endnotes 

1. Chanukah, compiled and written by Rabbi Tzvi Cohen, page 110, footnote 8.

2. Halekach V’Halibuv, 5763, Parshat Vayeitzei, Page 42.

3. Part of the prayer we recite upon completion of a tractate of Talmud based on the Berachot 28b.

4. https://www.mindful.org/jon-kabat-zinn-defining-Mindfulness/