Rabbi Brad Levenberg
Chanukah, starting this Sunday evening, arrives near the twilight of the year, when we notice how easily good intentions get buried under the momentum of everyday demands. The practices that steady us and the people who matter most are often the first to slip when the pace accelerates and the urgent overtakes the meaningful.
The story of Chanukah speaks to that very pattern. As kids, perhaps Chanukah was a scrappy underdog story about a military victory, or perhaps we focused on the miracle of the light, a reminder that we should never overlook miracles (or moments when things “just work out,” which is another way of saying “miracle”). But the part that sticks with me today is different. Chanukah doesn’t mean “flashy battle” or even “miracle of the lights;” it means “rededication.” And this year I find myself focusing on that act, on the cleanup crew that arrived after the battle and before the miracle, the group who said, “This place is a mess, and someone has to roll up their sleeves and rededicate this space, and that someone is me.”
The Chanukah Clean-Up Crew offered care and attention to the daily tasks needed to restore the Temple to its sacred purpose. And just like in our lives, rededication isn’t a one-time thing but, instead, it is the sequence of small, sustained choices we make to re-ground and re-center and re-dedicate ourselves to what is most important in our lives.
As the candles grow in number night after night, we are invited to look gently and honestly at our own lives. Where do we want to return with intention? Which connections, routines, or values deserve to be brought back into focus? Like the clean-up crew who showed up after the battle concluded, we understand that it is not grand gestures but modest steps that will help us rediscover balance and purpose.
May this season offer a quiet moment to choose again what anchors us and who we want to walk beside. Shabbat Shalom and Chag Sameach!
Warmly,
Rabbi Brad Levenberg
