Ayelet Libson is a graduate of the Advanced Talmud Institute at Matan and has taught Talmud and Midrash at various institutes throughout Israel. She is currently pursuing a doctorate in Talmud at New York University and teaches at the Drisha Institute for Jewish Education.
The festival of Hanukkah falls during the darkest time of the year: the days before and after the new moon, which are the darkest days of the lunar cycle, are also the days nearest to the winter solstice; the darkest days of the solar year. During these somber days, we commemorate the miracle of Hanukkah by lighting up our homes and the world around us. The Talmud records a famous dispute with regard to the number of candles prescribed on each day:
Our rabbis taught: The mitzvah of Hanukkah is one candle for each man and his household. Those who enhance the mitzvah – one candle for each individual. And those who enhance to the utmost, the house of Shammai say: on the first day one lights eight candles, and from then one continues to decrease, and the House of Hillel say: on the first day one lights one candle, and from then on one continues to increase (Talmud Bavli Shabbat 21b).
The basic level of the obligation to light a candle on Hanukkah is fulfilled by each household lighting one candle a night. The original Hebrew terms used for the second and third levels of this obligation are hamehadrin and hamehadrin min hamehadrin, a phrase unique to this discussion only. The commentators attempt to uncover the root of this designation so as to better understand to whom it refers. Rashi finds the root of the word in the Aramaic verb hadar, which means to return or to pursue (as in the hadran traditionally recited at the conclusion of each tractate of Talmud with the intent of returning to that text and repeating its study). Thus, he understands the term hamehadarin to describe those who pursue the mitzvot and wish to fulfill them on a higher level. Alternatively, Rashi's great-grandson and one of the baalei hatosafot, R. Isaac of Dampierre, identifies the root of the appellation as the noun hadar, meaning glory or splendor, reflecting a propensity found elsewhere in the Talmud to enhance certain commandments involving physical objects such as the lulav, shofar, and sefer Torah.
The two different interpretations of the term hamehadrin also influence the commentators' different understandings of the famous dispute between Beit Hillel and Beit Shammai. According to R. Isaac, the mitzvah of lighting the Hannukah candle is enhanced by the variation in the number of candles lit daily and the visual recognition of the day of the holiday by the number of candles lit. Thus, the opinions of the houses of Hillel and Shammai pertain only to the first part of the beraita, which requires only one candle to be lit in each household, and they commend an additional level of fulfilling the commandment by adding or diminishing the number of candles lit daily. However, if each person in the house were to light his or her own candles, even if one were to light an additional candle each day, this would not be noticable to an onlooker, who would merely think this house to be one of many inhabitants. In contrast, Rashi's interpretation of hamehadrin reflects the desire to involve each individual in the perfection of each mitzvah. Thus there is an advantage to having all members of the household light their own candles, as this reflects the entire family's engagement with the lights of Hannukah.
The different interpretations offered by Rashi and R. Isaac reflect a tension apparent in many of the laws of lighting the Hanukkah candles. On the one hand, the essence of this action is pirsumei nisa; proclaiming the miracle of Hanukkah, and indeed an essential part of the mitzvah is that it be fulfilled in a public place where as many people as possible may see it, at a time when people are still walking about in the streets and will certainly see the shining light of the candles. On the other hand, as noted by the Rema; R. Moshe Isserles, the Hannukah candles must be lit in the home, and even if one lights candles at the synagogue or another public gathering, one must light candles again with a blessing in one's home (Orah Hayyim 671:7). This tension between the public sphere and the private sphere reflects in turn the dual nature of the miracle of Hannukah: on the one hand the story of Hannukah depicts the miracle of the few defeating the many in a great military victory. Yet when the Talmud asks its famous question mai Hanukkah; what was the miracle of Hanukkah, the response concerns the famous cruse of oil which burned for eight days in the Temple, described so often as the intimate residence of the shekhina.
This duality between public and private may also shed light on the enigmatic debate between the houses of Hillel and Shammai. The Talmud explains that the rationale underlying the opinion of Beit Hillel that we increase the number of candles lit daily is a principle found elsewhere in rabbinic literature called maalin baqodesh ve-ein moridin; we increase in sanctity but do not decrease. Yet many of the commentators on the Talmud raise the following question: is it possible that Beit Shammai does not accept this principle? Various answers have been offered to this question, I would like to suggest one more. The tension between the public and the private spheres is irresolvable – they are both necessary and each have their part to play in our lives. Great victories and achievements may be attained in the public realm, yet the depth of human interaction occurs only in the private space. Our most profound emotions may be shared only with our dearest and most beloved, yet scientific and cultural activity must develop in a broader setting. I propose that Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel acknowledge both spheres and dissent only in the emphasis they put on each: while Beit Shammai holds that we begin with the greatest amount of light in the home and slowly diffuse it to the outer world, Beit Hillel argues that we must draw light out of the surrounding darkness and increase the light in our homes each day. Beit Shammai views the home as a means for spreading light to the outside world, and thus we start with a great display of light in the home but gradually impart that light to the world. Beit Hillel's opinion is somewhat more complex: although we draw light in from the public to the private sphere, gradually building up the light within our home, we still kindle the candles on our doorsteps. I suggest that the underlying rationale to Beit Hillel's opinion is that the world needs to be illuminated by the lights of individual homes. When our homes are filled with light and sanctity, we can exude that illumination to others. This Hanukkah, may our homes be filled with light to sustain those who are in need, and may we also be privileged to be able to draw from the lights of others in our own need.
