Â鶹Éç

Available for over a year

Good Morning. Sunday evening brings Chanukkah, the Jewish festival of lights. I’ve a childhood memory of my mother preparing the Chanukkah candles which we kindle in increasing numbers: one on the first, up to eight on the final night. ‘I want big ones, not those tiny birthday cake candles,’ I’d insisted, as any four-year-old might. I didn’t understand then that it’s not the size of their but the light they give that matters. Chanukkah is set against a complex, conflicted political background in the second century BCE. The Jerusalem Temple lies desolate, desecrated by the tyrant Antiochus Epiphanes. The rabbis tell how, after recapturing it, the victorious Maccabees search the wreckage. All they can find is a single jar of oil for rekindling the Temple lamps. Enough for one day only, miraculously the oil burns for eight. I doubt this account is factually true. But I’m convinced it expresses a profound human truth. Amidst the brokenness and anguish of life I believe there’s almost always a vial of oil, a source of light to be found. Yesterday’s papers carried the story of a boy of three who peddled down an A-road to the village on his toy truck to get help for his father who’d had an epileptic seizure. One woman used her van to block the traffic and rescue him; a second, listening to what he had to tell, secured the necessary help. A father, a boy, two passing women: one act of love and courage inspires another. One light ignites further lights and accrues the strength to inspire us all. As in the Chanukkah story, we live within the complexities of history, sometimes, too, amidst the ruins of people and places we hold dear. Yet I believe the light of humanity can still be found. It lies not outside of us, but in the heart and conscience. It doesn’t depend on age, gender, colour or faith. It’s in us all. One person’s kindness kindles goodness in others. The compassion we witness calls on us to do likewise. If we try, our light may in turn guide others. That’s the miracle of the flame which burns far longer than anyone ever thought. The rabbis require the Chanukkah candles to be placed in the window where the greatest number of passers-by can see them. They should illumine the highway; the lights of kindness, courage and love, yours, ours, are the true guides of humanity through the travails of history and life.