As the Festival of Lights approaches, I can’t help but reflect on my experiences from last year. I woke up one morning feeling groggy, with an unmistakable scent of fried latkes lingering in the air. Much like the crispy treats I prepared, I felt completely spent. Even though the menorah’s flames danced brightly, my spirit felt dimmed.
The holiday season brings with it an exhilarating mix of cherished traditions and powerful stories. There’s an incredible opportunity for meaningful connection during this time, but it’s easy to get overwhelmed by the season’s chaotic energy. One evening, after battling the crowds for the perfect gifts, I had to remind myself that the real miracles extend far beyond just snagging a good parking spot at the mall. Another night, I found myself in a frenzy, juggling the tasks of wrapping gifts, peeling potatoes, searching for sufganiyot recipes, and trying to remember the blessings—all while resisting the urge to devour chocolate coins and getting “Light One Candle” stuck in my head.
Hanukkah often feels like an endless game of dreidel—spin, shin, and feel like you never win. This year, I’m determined to reclaim these eight days and focus on what the holiday truly represents: light. Not just the glow of the menorah, but the brilliance of kindness. In these challenging times, we have the power to illuminate the world with compassion and positive intentions.
These days can be truly special, and we can harness the essence of light by turning our focus toward matters of the heart. We can take a moment to offer blessings for others, expanding our prayers beyond our own reality.
Prayers for Light
We can ask that the light of the Hanukkah candles help us remember those whose needs far exceed our own. We can pray for perspective.
We can seek the strength to care for the ailing and the hurting. We can pray for healing.
We can wish for a peaceful path illuminated by the light of the Hanukkah candles, praying for safety and unity.
We can ask for the courage to choose what is right, praying for integrity and principles.
We can envision the light of the Hanukkah candles shining on tables set for many, praying for the end of hunger and poverty.
We can hope that the light reflects in our children’s eyes, praying for their bright futures.
We can ask for the light to inspire those who have lost hope, praying they rediscover their faith.
We can request that the light resonate with song, empowering us to speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves.
We can ask that the light ignite our indifference and combat ignorance, praying for knowledge and inspiration.
Last year, I woke up feeling like I had been through a whirlwind, and that’s okay. Each night is a fresh start, each tomorrow an opportunity for new stories and gifts. I’m not just talking about applesauce and sour cream, but also about the choice between compassion or apathy, engagement or disconnection, brightness or darkness. I have the time to gather my strength and look forward to eight nights filled with potential—plus an abundance of candles to light. This little light of mine? I’m ready to let it shine. And I believe we all can embrace that same spirit.
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Summary
This Hanukkah, I’m focusing on the true meaning of the holiday—embracing the light of kindness and compassion. As I reflect on last year’s chaos, I’m determined to reclaim the joy and significance of the season, turning my attention to prayers for others and fostering a sense of community. Each night presents a new opportunity to shine bright, not just through the menorah, but by embodying the spirit of generosity and hope.