When there’s abundant sunlight, who needs a candle? The light of a candle shines its brightest, and is most appreciated, in the darkness.
Shortly after the Jews left Egypt, G-d instructed them to build the Tabernacle, which would serve as a direct point of contact between G-d and humanity. When the construction was complete, each of the Jews’ twelve tribal leaders brought an offering to dedicate their new Temple.
Aaron, the High Priest, was also given a special part in the dedication, in the form of kindling the Menorah, which would stand in the Tabernacle and spread light to the world.
G-d actually told Aaron that eventually the Temple would be destroyed and its service discontinued, but the “Menorah’s light would burn forever,” referring to the Chanukah lights. In other words,
Aaron’s contribution to the Tabernacle would be more enduring than that of the tribal leaders.
The Temple was the pinnacle of our spiritual experience, so the tribal leaders’ contribution to its founding was profound. At the same time, their contribution was tied to the structure, and with the Temple's destruction, its impact came to an end.
Aaron's mission was to spread light. Not just physical light, Divine light. To ignite souls. To spark psycho-spiritual illumination and warmth.
So Aaron’s light would echo through history, and would find specific expression when the Maccabees found spiritual light and strength in a time of great spiritual darkness.
In other words, the Maccabees first found light in their souls, and only afterward in the Menorah. And both 'flames' were the gift of Aaron.
Today, Aaron’s contribution to our lives lies in our ability to find a spark of G-dliness and Divine light – internal clarity and beauty – irrespective of our circumstances, even in a dark hour.
The world has been darkened by a Pandemic, yet we – beginning tonight – can bring transcendent light to the world.
We have the gift of Aaron, and Aaron's gift “burns forever.”
What does a Divine, Infinite Being do on a regular Thursday afternoon? If One has everything, literally, wouldn’t life be boring? What aspirations, ambitions or feelings of satisfaction or attainment could there possibly be?
G-d creates us with the hope that we each choose (at least occasionally?) to peer beyond the haze of stress and the gleam of desire, to acknowledge that we’re created to live a life of meaning. He wonders, “Will they or won’t they remember Me?”
So G-d must be happy when we start the day with prayer, with introspective thoughts of how we need to align our day with a meaning-centered life. And G-d must be satisfied when we take some time at night to revisit the day’s choices and whether they reflect a purpose-driven life.
At the same time, morning, before the day begins and nighttime, after the day has wound down, are relatively easier times to be conscious and thoughtful. How about taking time in middle of the day? Can you imagine making time for G-d between Zoom meetings, as your mind is racing to keep all the balls in the air? Is that even realistic?
Jewish tradition says it is.
If we find G-d-consciousness when it isn’t easy, we give G-d His greatest ‘thrill.’
In fact, the Talmud teaches that our afternoon service (known as Mincha) has unique value. In the middle of our afternoon, it takes more proactive effort to focus on G-d and on our purpose in life. And that makes it all the more beautiful.
This idea gives us insight into a cryptic Talmudic teaching. The Talmud – which is primarily an exposition of Jewish Law, but also an exploration of spiritual and ethical ideas, often through cryptic stories and metaphors - asks the question:
What does G-d do all day? As part of the Talmud’s metaphoric answer, it says, “in the last three hours of the afternoon, G-d frolics with the Leviathan.”
Huh?
Chassidic thought points out that the [root of the] Hebrew word for Leviathan means connectedness; ‘Leviathan’ thus represents the awesome beauty that human beings create when they rise above their egos to find connectedness with something Higher ‑‑ the Divine.
So every afternoon, as millions of people choose to put their respective days on pause, to contemplate their priorities and behaviors and connect with the Divine, G-d ‘frolics.’
Think about the metaphoric word that the Talmud chooses.
It’s not just a smile.
Not just happy.
Frolicking.
Exuberant.
Sounds like a good time to pray.