Miketz 2021
The Talmud, Avoda Zava 8a, states:
Our Sages taught: When Adam the first man saw that the day was progressively diminishing, as the days become shorter from the autumnal equinox until the winter solstice, he did not yet know that this is a normal phenomenon, and therefore he said: Woe is me; perhaps because I sinned the world is becoming dark around me and will ultimately return to the primordial state of chaos and disorder. And this is the death that was sentenced upon me from Heaven, as it is written: “And to dust shall you return” (Genesis 3:19). He arose and spent eight days in fasting and in prayer.
Once he saw that the season of Tevet, i.e., the winter solstice, had arrived, and saw that the day was progressively lengthening after the solstice, he said: Clearly, the days become shorter and then longer, and this is the order of the world. He went and observed a festival for eight days. Upon the next year, he observed both these eight days on which he had fasted on the previous year, and these eight days of his celebration, as days of festivities. He, Adam, established these festivals for the sake of Heaven, but they, the gentiles of later generations, established them for the sake of idol worship.
In thanks Adam arose and sacrificed a bull to God... Rav Yehuda says that Shmuel says: The bull that Adam the first man sacrificed had one horn on its forehead (a unicorn).”
This Talmudic narrative seems to be related to Chanukah (eight days at the darkest time of year, light and darkness, proximate non-Jewish holidays), yet it does not mention our traditional associations with the holiday. I suggest that it is trying to shed light on another aspect of Chanukah. Aside from the victory of the Jews over the Greeks and the miracle of the oil, this passage seems to be teaching us that there is something about chanukah which is primordial and universal- the desire to bring light at the darkest time of the year. In fact, there are other religions and cultures which have traditions of lighting lamps at this dark time of the year. If this Talmudic narrative is indeed a reference to Chanukah then part of the message of the holiday must be not just asking how we can preserve Jewish life in the face of other cultures which entice or coerce us, but how we can bring light into the dark places in our world generally.
Yesterday I participated in a meeting of 25 clergy with the chief of the Washington, D.C. Metropolitan Police Department. Washington, he said, is a big city with its share of violence, but we tend not to feel it or respond until it is on our street. He appealed to clergy and religious communities to help make our city a better and safer place. His words touched me because living in Georgetown and its surrounding areas we are often out of touch with much of the rest of the city. We see Washington as the U.S. Capitol but not as the city it is. We are disconnected from many of the parts of our city which are downtrodden and violent. This Chanukah I find myself reflecting on how we can be inspired by Chanukah to feel more a part of the whole city we live in, and how we can be part of the solution, to bring light into the dark places in whose proximity we live.
