As I gaze at the lights of the menorah on the eighth night of Chanukah, I wonder: Was Beis Hillel right?
We all know about the famous machlokes (dispute) between Beis Shamai and Beis Hillel regarding the optimal way to light the Chanukah menorah. The universal custom of the Jewish people is not just to light the bare minimum of one light per household per night, but to mark the days in a special fashion. Beis Hillel, whom we follow, says that we should light in ascending order: one light on the first night, two on the second, and so on, until we reach eight on the final night. Beis Shamai, however, argues the opposite: We should count down, starting with eight lights on the first night, seven on the second, and ending with one on the last night.
The Gemara offers various reasons for the two opinions, but I want to focus on how the opinions are characterized. Beis Hillel holds that we should be “mosif v’holeich” – continual growth and increase – while Beis Shamai emphasizes “pocheis v’holeich” – gradual reduction.
Most people I know are drawn to Beis Hillel’s approach. Perhaps it is because we are accustomed to it, but beyond that, the idea that things continually improve resonates deeply. The recent viral song in Israel, “SheYihyeh Od Yoter Tov” by Rav Shalom Arush, reflects this sentiment. It speaks of believing not only that everything is good, but that it will continue to get better. And that is what we all want to believe.
However, I don’t want to be a curmudgeon, but I have some doubts about that. Is everything really so good and getting better? While it is true that Israel has had some amazing successes in this long and terrible war, is it not willful blindness to ignore the enormous suffering of so many? After the horrific events of October 7, close to 1,000 of our brave soldiers have been killed, thousands more injured, tens of thousands of families displaced, and untold thousands have been serving interminably and watching their businesses and families suffer. Debates rage between those who think the army and the many reservists are desperately in need of more manpower, and those who believe that going to the army is absolutely forbidden and must be resisted at all costs, and there are many other struggles.
Especially now, when so many things seem to be getting worse, not better, I question whether “only increasing in holiness” is an accurate reflection of reality.
Returning to Chanukah, let us be honest. For many people who are not unusually holy and spiritual, which night of Chanukah is the most exciting: the first, or the last? Almost everywhere I have been, there is far more excitement the first night. By the time the seventh and eighth nights roll around, we remember to still light the menorah and sing Maoz Tzur yet again, maybe play some dreidel, and then it’s back to business as usual. We have already gone over our Chanukah divrei Torah, had our parties, spent time with our families, and barely can find any inspiration in yet another night of preparing the menorah, cleaning up the dripping oil, and lighting. The freshness has faded and our attention drifts elsewhere.
In other words, perhaps the dispute between Beis Shamai and Beis Hillel is whether we look at the many days of our longest holiday (Sukkos and Sh’mini Atzeres are separate) as aspirational, striving to grow in k’dushah (holiness) as time progresses, or whether we face the reality of how we actually observe it.
This difference in outlook between Beis Hillel and Beis Shamai can be seen in many of their disputes, with Beis Shamai taking the more “realistic” stance, while Beis Hillel seeks to inspire us to greater heights. One famous example of this difference was in the dispute between Shamai and Hillel as to how to treat three converts who wanted to convert on the condition that they could be the Kohen Gadol, keep only the Written Torah, or learn it in its entirety while standing on one foot. We always like to think of Hillel’s exemplary kindness seeing the potential good in them while gently guiding them past their delusions, whereas Shamai rebuffed them. But if you think about it, if any of these fellows would have approached any responsible rav today, they would have probably gotten the Shamai treatment. I heard that Rav Soloveitchik zt”l exclaimed, “Shamai was right! I would have thrown them out and said, ‘Come back if and when you are serious!’”
And yet, we almost always pasken like Beis Hillel.
This tells a lot about how we should view what Chanukah teaches us, especially as we leave it. We could look at it as Beis Shamai did, as a time when inspiration inevitably declines, leaving us to reflect wistfully on what could have been. Indeed, the historical Chanukah story supports this perspective. Space does not permit in this short essay, but the full story of the Hasmoneans is not a pretty one. While Al HaNisim tells us that it started gloriously with Matisyahu and his heroic sons, and the miraculous battles in which “the mighty were felled by the weak, and the many in the hands of the few” accomplished a great victory, there was then the “achar kach,” which consisted of cleaning out the mess and purifying the Mikdash. “By the way, they also lit lights” seems almost an afterthought. Furthermore, the later generations of Chashmona’im were so evil that they were totally exterminated after doing enormous damage to the Jewish people, including inviting the Romans into Eretz Yisrael to settle the dispute between Hyrcanus and Aristobulus, great-grandsons who gave very little nachas to their illustrious predecessors. A sad and sorry ending to what began with great hopes.
But we are called to take our inspiration from Beis Hillel: to not give in to “reality” – to seek not only to maintain our moments of inspiration but to nurture and grow it into a great flame that will motivate us to do great things. Sustaining it demands intense effort; but if we aim to achieve remarkable results, we have to persevere.
As a tragic example, all of us were motivated a year ago to pray for the hostages in Gaza with all of our hearts and to do whatever we could to help their families and all the families of those who were murdered or displaced from their homes.
It is now a year later. Those hostages who are still alive have been there now about 450 terrible, awful days – we would not want to experience even one of those days in our worst nightmares. The war drags on and even intensifies from the accursed Houthis. The families who need help need it even more as the general interest wanes. What about our inspiration? What are we still willing to do? Are we going to be mosif v’holeich or pocheis v’holeich?
It seems to me that this is the challenge of the aftermath of Chanukah. May we continue to strive to grow personally and not let our motivation to help others – who may be in even greater need – peter out as we get back to “reality.” Let us look forward to the time when we will be able to unreservedly “give thanks and praise to your Great Name,” and have our inspiration grow only greater and greater.
Rabbi Yehuda L. Oppenheimer served as Rav in several congregations in the US, including a decade of service at the Young Israel of Forest Hills. He now lives in Lavon, Israel, where he works to bring love and appreciation between religious and secular Jews.
