Hannukah, unlike many other Jewish holidays, is pretty much a one-pony show. There is no Seder, no required festive meal, and no forbidden activities (melakhot). Along with a handful of liturgical additions - the primary ritual of Hannukah is lighting the candles. In fact, almost every chapter on Hannukah in Judaism's major law codes explicate various details about candles: why do we light the candles, what kind of candles, who lights them, where do we light them, and when is the choice time for lighting candles?
Perhaps the most fascinating for me personally, is the directive that our hannnukiotshould not be similar to a bonfire (Shulhan Arukh, Orach Hayyim, 671:4). That is to say, they should be in a straight line across, so each and every candle can be individually discerned when looking directly at it. If the candles are arranged in a circle, or if the flames are combined, it would be impossible to differentiate between the lights. The legal principle behind this directive (and the legal principle behind almost all the laws related to lighting the hannukiah) is pirsumei nissa, or publicizing the miracle. By allowing each person to see the distinct light of each candle we simultaneously recall the story of Hannukah and offer the chance, and challenge, to experience the miracle anew.
The idea of an individual candle or a single flame in our tradition reaches beyond just the Hannukah candle. Before Passover, our tradition commands us to remove all of our leaven (hametz) from our possession. This obligation is manifest in the ancient practice of using a single candle to search each crack and crevice in our homes, a job that a large flame or torch could not easily accomplish. The individual candle does not only function practically, it is also a reminder that the spiritual cleaning for Passover, the removal of our internal hametz (often understood to be excessive pride and hubris), cannot be done with a superficial once-over. The small flame, the dim light, takes us another step deeper to access the space of our psyche that we are more hesitant to engage.
The Mei Hashiloach (Rabbi Mordechai Yosef of Isbitza, 1800-1854) embellishes this point, exploring the difference between a torch and a single flame. He claims that while the Torah, represented by a torch, is capable of refining the whole person over time, an individual mitzvah, or a single flame can penetrate the depths of one's immediate religious experience. He illustrates this point from the Talmud, "Concerning which mitzvah was your father most scrupulous? He answered that this it was the mitzvah of tziztit (fringes)." (Shabbat118b)
The Mei HaShiloach comments that he needed this particular mitzvah--a candle, as it were--to replenish that place in his soul in which he saw himself as deficient. By wrapping himself each morning in his tallit, this gentleman was reminded of where he needed to focus his energy - on the miracles of the tradition to which he needed to be awakened. The tallit was for him an impetus for growth.
Each of us may also have a specific mitzvah that moves us in a unique way, and forces us to open up to the world in a fresh way through the lens of Judaism and its minor and major miracles. Viewing the candles collectively arouses in us an awareness of potential for future growth. Each Hannukah candle represents a specific moment in our lives, a specific mitzvah that penetrates us, or a miracle that we have yet to allow ourselves to experience. By keeping them separate and distinct, the task of recognizing each one is realistic.
So I ask you - what will you recall as you light each candle this Hannukah? What miracle will the light help you recognize? How can each candle kindle your soul?
Hannukah Sameach