In attending this year’s Interfaith Thanksgiving gathering, I was deeply moved by a teaching shared by Omar Uddin from the Islamic Center of Boca Raton. He spoke about a well known verse from the Qur’an, “A likeness of His light is as a niche in which is a lamp, the lamp is in a glass, and the glass is as if it were a brightly shining star.” (al-Nur 24:35) Omar reflected on this verse as a reminder that each of us carries a lamp within, a divine light placed in us by God, glowing from behind a delicate glass that both protects it and allows it to shine.
As he spoke, I immediately thought about the parallel teachings within our own tradition.
In the Zohar, the foundational text of Jewish mysticism, the soul is described as a flame that yearns to rise and reunite with its Source. But just like any lamp, the soul needs fuel. Torah, mitzvot, compassion, and intentional spiritual living allow that flame to burn with purpose. Jewish mystics teach of a term called Or HaGanuz, the first hidden light that God infused into the world at the moment of creation, a light that still exists, quietly tucked within each of us. It is strikingly similar to the imagery Omar shared, a divine radiance enclosed within every human being.
This theme of hidden light couldn’t be more relevant as we prepare to welcome the festival of lights, Chanukah, on Sunday evening. Chanukah arrives in the month of Kislev, one of the darkest months of the year, when night falls early and the world feels dimmer. Our tradition doesn’t see this as coincidence. Kislev invites us to participate in the sacred act of illumination, challenging us to uncover the hidden light embedded within us since birth and to bring that light into a shadowed world.
In this spirit, when you light your chanukiah this year, I invite you to pay special attention to the shamash, the helper candle. It is a single flame, yet it kindles all the others, night after night. And as each additional candle catches its spark, we watch the light grow. We witness how simple, steady, and contagious this act of spreading light truly is. It only takes one flame to ignite eight others, and in our world today, it only takes one person’s goodness, courage, or compassion to awaken light in those around them.
In this week’s Torah portion, we see how courage and compassion allow light to keep shining. As Joseph’s brothers debate throwing him into a pit and even killing him out of jealousy and frustration, one brother speaks up and in doing so changes everything. We read,
“But when Reuben heard it, he tried to save him from them. He said, ‘Let us not take his life.’ And Reuben went on, ‘Shed no blood. Cast him into that pit out in the wilderness, but do not touch him yourselves,’ intending to save him from them and restore him to his father.” (Genesis 37:21–22)
That single act of courage and compassion sets off a chain reaction. Joseph survives. He eventually rises to power in Egypt, where he becomes the very person who saves his family and ultimately the Jewish people from famine. One moment of moral courage becomes the foundation for our people’s survival and future redemption.
As we move through a holiday season shared by so many faiths, each lifting up themes of light, hope, and renewal, I think back to Omar’s teaching. Across traditions, we are reminded of the same truth, that God’s light lives within us, and that what we choose to do with it matters.
May we each remember that we carry this hidden light, this divine spark, and that it is our sacred responsibility, our partnership with God, to share it generously and bravely.
Wishing you a Shabbat Shalom and a Chanukah filled with growing, glowing light.
With love and light,
Rabbi Ashira Boxman
