Hiddur Mitzvah in the Hanukkah Candle and in General (Column 528)
(After this column was published, I was told that most of these points were written in Column 430. My apologies—I had forgotten.)
With God’s help
Disclaimer: This post was translated from Hebrew using AI (ChatGPT 5 Thinking), so there may be inaccuracies or nuances lost. If something seems unclear, please refer to the Hebrew original or contact us for clarification.
This column is drawn from remarks I made in today’s class in honor of Hanukkah. I discussed several notes about the rule of hiddur (beautifying a mitzvah) in the Hanukkah candle and about hiddur in general (some of these points appear in my article here).
The timing of the enactment to light the candle
In Shabbat 21b we find a dispute regarding the level of “mehadrin min hamehadrin” (the most enhanced practice):
Our Sages taught: The mitzvah of Hanukkah is a candle for a person and his household. Those who are meticulous (mehadrin) light a candle for each and every person. And those who are the most meticulous (mehadrin min hamehadrin): Beit Shammai say, on the first day one lights eight and thereafter decreases; and Beit Hillel say, on the first day one lights one and thereafter increases.
There are three levels of lighting: the basic law—one candle per household; mehadrin—one candle for each person; and mehadrin min hamehadrin—a dispute whether to decrease or increase. The obvious question is: how did this dispute arise? What did the father of Beit Hillel or of Beit Shammai do? We are talking about a hundred to a hundred and fifty years after the Hasmonean victory; the tradition practiced in every home should have been clear.
We do find a similar dispute about tefillin between Rashi and his grandson Rabbeinu Tam. There too the question arose: what did Rabbeinu Tam’s grandfather do (and in that case we know quite well)? But there it is not a difficulty at all, since it is clearly about two different interpretations of the Torah’s command of tefillin. It is not a factual dispute about some enactment, but a dispute over the meaning of a Torah mitzvah. Indeed, tefillin of Rabbeinu Tam were found in the excavations at Masada, showing this is an ancient interpretive dispute. But even if it were not ancient, there is no problem for Rabbeinu Tam to disagree with all earlier generations and state that, in his view, the mitzvah of tefillin should be done thus and not as was customary. Custom has no standing when one has a clear argument regarding the law. Only when the halakhah is uncertain in my hands should I follow custom.
If we return to candle lighting, the dispute there revolves around the enactment of the Hasmonean court. Here it is a purely factual question: what did they enact—decreasing or increasing? How could a dispute arise about this? When there is a specific enactment, it is not like a Torah law (such as tefillin). There it is not reasonable that Beit Shammai or Beit Hillel would decide to change what was enacted based on reasoning, for the point is: this is what they enacted. So how did this dispute arise?
It therefore seems that Beit Hillel and Beit Shammai were not disagreeing about some earlier enactment; rather, they themselves came and enacted the rule of mehadrin min hamehadrin, and they disagreed, in real time, how to enact it: increase or decrease. In fact, the Gemara there immediately continues and explicitly brings their underlying rationales:
Ulla said: Two Amoraim in the West (Eretz Yisrael), R. Yosi bar Avin and R. Yosi bar Zebida, disagreed about this. One said: The reason of Beit Shammai is corresponding to the incoming days, and the reason of Beit Hillel is corresponding to the outgoing days. And one said: The reason of Beit Shammai is corresponding to the bulls of the festival (of Sukkot), and the reason of Beit Hillel is that we ascend in holiness and do not descend. Rabbah bar bar Ḥana said in the name of R. Yoḥanan: There were two elders in Tzidon—one acted like Beit Shammai and one like Beit Hillel. The one gave a reason corresponding to the bulls of the festival; the other gave a reason that we ascend in holiness and do not descend.
We see that the dispute concerns what is proper, not what actually was. It is a normative dispute, not a factual one. If it were an earlier enactment, I would not care about the arguments—whether the enactment was ideal or not. What was enacted is binding.
There is room to discuss whether the very lighting of the candle was a later enactment in the time of Beit Hillel and Beit Shammai, or whether this is said only regarding the level of mehadrin min hamehadrin about which they disagreed. In the Gemara’s wording (Shabbat 21b) we find:
“What is Hanukkah?” As our Sages taught: On the twenty-fifth of Kislev are the days of Hanukkah—eight of them—on which eulogies and fasting are prohibited. For when the Greeks entered the Temple they defiled all the oil there; and when the Hasmonean monarchy was victorious and defeated them, they searched and found only one cruse of oil sealed with the High Priest’s seal, and it contained sufficient for only one day. A miracle occurred and they lit from it for eight days. The following year they established these days as a festival with Hallel and thanksgiving.
Here we see that the enactment of Hallel and thanksgiving was “the following year,” i.e., after the time of the victory. Granted, that could be the very next year and not necessarily in the time of Beit Hillel and Beit Shammai, but note that lighting the candle is not mentioned at all—only Hallel and thanksgiving. If so, Hallel and thanksgiving were enacted “the following year,” but lighting the candle—who mentioned that? It likely came much later. Indeed, scholars have noted that the miracle of the cruse of oil and its centrality in prayer and Talmud are late. In earlier texts it has little place; the focus was the military victory and liberation from national, cultural, and religious subjugation.[1] Some link this to exile: the Talmud, composed in exile, emphasized spirit (the pure cruse) over military victory. Perhaps.[2]
If we look at Maimonides (Rambam), Laws of Hanukkah 3:1–3, a revealing picture emerges:
1. In the Second Temple period, when the Greeks reigned, they issued decrees against Israel and nullified their religion, not allowing them to engage in Torah and mitzvot. They reached out their hands against their property and daughters, entered the Temple, breached its walls, and defiled the pure things. Israel suffered greatly from them, until the God of our fathers had mercy upon them and saved them, and the Hasmoneans, the High Priests, prevailed and killed them, and saved Israel from them. They established a king from among the priests, and sovereignty returned to Israel for more than two hundred years until the Second Destruction.
2. When Israel grew strong against their enemies and destroyed them, it was on the twenty-fifth of Kislev. They entered the Temple and found only one pure cruse of oil in the Temple, sufficient to light for only one day, and they lit from it the lamps of the arrangement for eight days, until they pressed olives and produced pure oil.
3. Because of this, the Sages of that generation enacted that these eight days, beginning from the evening of the twenty-fifth of Kislev, be days of rejoicing and Hallel. And candles are lit at the entrances of the houses every night of the eight nights to publicize the miracle. And these days are called Hanukkah, and eulogies and fasting are prohibited, like on Purim. And the lighting of the candles in them is a rabbinic commandment, like the reading of the Megillah.
In his language, especially in 3:3, several points need clarification. After describing the miracles in the first two laws, he brings the halakhic enactments. At first he writes that the Sages of that generation enacted days of rejoicing and Hallel, “and we light candles in the evenings at the entrances of houses”—this appears not to be part of the original enactment. It dealt only with rejoicing and Hallel, and later lighting candles was added, and perhaps also the prohibition of eulogies and fasting. At the end of 3:3 he reiterates that “the lighting of the candles is a rabbinic commandment, like the reading of the Megillah.” What about rejoicing and Hallel—are these not rabbinic? Why does he repeat the list of enactments, and only partially, emphasizing only the candle lighting? He should have written that they enacted days of rejoicing and Hallel, candle lighting, and a ban on eulogies and fasting—and that all of these are rabbinic. But he splits it, and only reiterates the candle lighting.
If we add this to the precision of his wording at the beginning of the law, a picture emerges: the Sages of that generation enacted only Hallel and rejoicing. Later, candle lighting was added, and he wishes to stress that candle lighting, too, is rabbinic law like Megillah reading. It is not merely a nice custom added in a later period, but a new halakhic tier added to Hanukkah’s laws; now all of it is rabbinic halakhah. Accordingly, Rambam’s language implies that candle lighting was a later addition (he does not here distinguish between the basic law and the hiddur), likely meaning the time of Beit Hillel and Beit Shammai. It may be that before their period, people lit candles as a fine custom, and in their time it was incorporated into the halakhic system as a rabbinic enactment.[3]
The reason and nature of hiddur on Hanukkah
All this raises the question: why did the Sages go to the effort of setting out special paths of hiddur for the Hanukkah candle? Why wasn’t the earlier enactment enough? Why such focus on the details of hiddur? They could have left it to the Torah’s general rule of beautifying mitzvot derived from “This is my God and I will beautify Him” (see Shabbat 133b and elsewhere), which obligates us to perform mitzvot in a beautiful, enhanced manner. Even then we would have to light with a decorated menorah (as with sukkah), with fine oil, in a fine quantity, and the like. Yet here they added details that naturally prompted interpretations and disputes, and invoked curious rationales like the bulls of the festival—all seemingly just because they wished to add something beyond the earlier enactment. What was wrong with what their predecessors enacted?
Add to this two further difficulties brought by Rabbi Yagel in his book Netivot Yehoshua, vol. 1, “Kuntres HaMo’adim,” §12. The Pnei Yehoshua on Shabbat there asks:
“Seemingly one should wonder: what was the point of that miraculous effort? For we hold that ritual impurity is permitted for the public (or at least overridden), so they could have lit with impure oil. According to the opinion that impurity is merely overridden in the public [Pesachim 79a] it is somewhat understandable here, unlike the opinion that it is permitted, where we do not even seek alternatives, as in Yoma 6b—so the question is very difficult.”
He asks: why did we need a miracle, given that impurity is permitted (or at least overridden) in communal settings?
A further difficulty he brings from the Brisker Rav (R. Chaim Soloveitchik) on Rambam, Laws of Hanukkah 4:1. Today, a person lights 36 candles (not counting shamashim) over Hanukkah—instead of the 8 candles required by the basic law. That is 4.5 times the requirement. If one does this for each member of the household, it is even more. But in Bava Kamma 9b we find that hiddur mitzvah extends only up to a third (in cost) of the mitzvah. If so, the hiddur in Hanukkah candles seems to run against the regular rule of hiddur.
The conclusion is that Hanukkah has a special rule of hiddur, not the general “This is my God and I will beautify Him.” The explanation: although we could have lit the menorah with impure oil, the miracle of the cruse enabled us to light with hiddur (i.e., with pure oil). In remembrance of that miracle, the Sages enacted a special hiddur in the Hanukkah candle, beyond the general hiddur derived from “This is my God and I will beautify Him.” Thus there are two kinds of hiddur on Hanukkah: hiddur in olive oil, in the amount of oil, and in the beauty of the menorah—these are the general hiddurim and follow the usual bounds; and the hiddur addressed by the baraita above—an enactment of a special hiddur for the Hanukkah candle—which does not follow the usual halakhic standards of hiddur. This neatly resolves the difficulties of the Pnei Yehoshua and the Brisker Rav.
Accordingly, it is doubtful how much we can learn from the general law of hiddur to the Hanukkah candle’s hiddur, and vice versa. For example, the discussion whether hiddur mitzvah applies after the mitzvah has already been fulfilled. The Brisker Rav there tried to understand this based on the general laws of hiddur, but according to our approach it is not clear that this is possible. It may be that the Hanukkah candle has a special hiddur rule unrelated to “This is my God and I will beautify Him.” The hiddurim of oil and menorah design belong to the general hiddur; but not the hiddur in the manner of lighting we discussed here.
Is the hiddur in Hanukkah candles obligatory? A normative paradox
Seemingly, there are three levels of Hanukkah lighting, and only the first is obligatory. The other two are optional hiddur, dependent on our will. Yet it seems more like an outright obligation; go and see—Israel has always lit, and lights today, at the level of mehadrin min hamehadrin. They do not treat it as voluntary. How does that square with calling this level hiddur mitzvah? The baraita itself states one fulfills the basic obligation with “a candle for a person and his household.”
It appears we face a logical problem, akin to “You shall be holy” (see Column 499; and Yishlach Shoreshav in the article on Root Four, and more). In Root Four, Rambam explains that “You shall be holy” is not counted as a commandment because it encompasses the entire Torah: it is merely a reiteration of the demand to keep all mitzvot, not an independent content-bearing command. Such mitzvot are not counted. Nahmanides (Ramban), in his critical notes there, disagrees and explains why the Ba’al HaHalakhot Gedolot did count it. Yet even he does not adopt his well-known interpretation at the beginning of Parashat Kedoshim, where he explains “You shall be holy” as a demand to go beyond the letter of the law and not be a “scoundrel with the permission of the Torah.” Moreover, if you check Ramban’s additions to Rambam’s positive commandments, you will not find “You shall be holy.” Why does Ramban refuse to recognize this verse as a counted mitzvah?
The answer: if he were to count this as a mitzvah, a paradox would arise—we would have a command to act beyond the letter of the law (lifnim mishurat hadin). But if it is a command, then acting accordingly is the letter of the law, not beyond it. Thus, even if the Torah expects us to act thus, it cannot define it as a command; it must remain a demand to go beyond the letter of the law. I once termed this “the scoundrel paradox.” The upshot: the demand to go beyond the letter of the law and not be a “scoundrel within the bounds of the Torah” is fully binding, but it cannot be entered into the catalog of commandments; it remains outside. We are meant to understand on our own that this is a firm demand, though extra-legal, and act accordingly.
So too with Hanukkah candles. The normative paradox exists there as well. The Sages wanted to obligate us to enhance the Hanukkah candle, in remembrance of the enhancement enabled by the miracle. But they were caught in a logical bind: if they define it as an obligation, it is no longer an enhancement but an obligation. They therefore left it as hiddur, but in subtext we are all meant to understand that it is an obligation that cannot be presented as a binding law. I believe this is why, a century and a half later, the Sages convened to add a layer of hiddur to the earlier candle-lighting enactment (or perhaps to enact candle lighting itself with hiddur embedded). They felt obliged to add a layer of hiddur to the enactment, since the essence of the miracle was that it enabled us to light with hiddur. Hence there is a hiddur rule distinct from “This is my God and I will beautify Him,” with different parameters.
The meaning of the triple hiddur: comparison to the measure of terumah
We saw that the Hanukkah candle has three levels: the basic law, hiddur, and mehadrin min hamehadrin. If we seek another halakhic example of a triple measure in fulfilling a mitzvah, one might think of the “ascending and descending” offering. But that is not a good example, since each person at a given economic status has one clear obligation, not three options. A better example is the measure of setting aside terumah, which is divided into three options for each person according to his will: 1/40 (generous eye), 1/50 (average), and 1/60 (stingy). There too are three options, and we are to choose among them according to our good will—just as with the Hanukkah candle.
In my article “Mitzvah, Reason, and the Will of God,” I compared the measure of terumah to the measure of challah, and from there defined the category “the will of God,” distinguished from obligation derived from reason or moral considerations (which are also beyond the letter of the law). I explained that there are cases where it is clear to me that God’s will is that I do something even though the law does not obligate it, yet the act itself does not appear valuable in and of itself. If the act itself has apparent value, I do it based on reason (and of course it is then clear that God wants me to do it). But where the act’s value is not apparent, yet it is clear that this is His will, there too there is an obligation to do it—not from reason, but simply because it is God’s will.
I explained there that in terumah, the Torah does not define a clear obligation beyond a single grain that exempts the pile; but from its very designation as a “donation,” it is clear that the Torah wishes us to set aside more (for a single grain is no donation of the heart). Why does the Torah not obligate more? For the very same reason we saw above in the normative paradox: it wants us to give from generosity of spirit, not from a legal obligation. Hence it states that one grain exempts the pile, but lets us understand that more is expected. The Sages then came and set a range: between 1/40 and 1/60. Note that this measure is not rabbinic in nature but biblical: it is not a regular biblical obligation, but an assessment of what the Torah expects of us—an estimation, not a mere rabbinic decree.
Why then did the Sages leave three levels? Because had they fixed a single measure, they would have emptied the Torah’s will of its content. The Torah wanted giving to be voluntary, from the heart—not because the law compels it. Therefore, the Sages decided to set a range yet leave room within it to express generosity of spirit. Each person chooses how much to give within the framework they assessed (which, as noted, is a biblical framework—an estimation of the Torah’s will). This is also why the Sages defined three levels for the Hanukkah candle: they wished to tell us that, by basic law, one candle per household suffices, but we are expected to enhance and light more. To preserve voluntariness, they left two levels of hiddur. Note that, unlike terumah, where there is a biblical level (a grain) and the Sages’ assessment defines three different tiers, in Hanukkah “a candle for a person and his household” is the halakhically binding measure, with only two additional hiddur levels. The choice between them is voluntary, yet there is an obligation to enhance.
Is hiddur obligatory?
Is hiddur in the Hanukkah candle obligatory? According to what I have proposed, it seems yes. It is an obligation we are meant to grasp on our own. Hiddur does not invalidate the mitzvah if absent, but there is an expectation to enhance (and one cannot impose it as a formal halakhic obligation because of the normative paradox). One may ask whether there is an obligation to reach the highest level, or whether there is an obligation to enhance, but the choice between the two hiddur levels is ours. From the detailed deliberations of Beit Hillel and Beit Shammai, which delve into the particulars of the highest hiddur, one can infer that this is expected of us. It is unlikely that they would vigorously analyze and craft disputes over what is merely a voluntary expression of good will. It is more reasonable that this is a full obligation whose details matter, though it cannot be codified as a formal obligation due to the normative paradox.
An example is the Mishnah in Menachot 38a:
“The blue (tekhelet) does not invalidate the white, and the white does not invalidate the blue. The hand-tefillin do not invalidate the head-tefillin, and the head-tefillin do not invalidate the hand-tefillin.”
Some understood that tekhelet is a voluntary hiddur, since it does not invalidate the white. This is a mistake. Tekhelet is a positive commandment, and one who does not set tekhelet has neglected a positive commandment. If you did not place tekhelet on your fringes, you still fulfilled the white component. That one commandment does not invalidate the other does not mean the first is optional (a merely commendable act). It can be obligatory yet not invalidate the other. One who did not fulfill A has indeed neglected A, but still fulfilled B. As for tefillin, no one suggests that either the hand or head tefillin are optional, despite each not invalidating the other.[4]
From here one might say something similar about hiddur mitzvah in general. It is commonly thought that since hiddur does not invalidate, it is therefore voluntary (commendable, beyond the letter of the law, or even rabbinic). But plainly this is not so. It is a full obligation, though it does not invalidate the core mitzvah. If we performed a mitzvah without hiddur, we indeed fulfilled the mitzvah—but we neglected the positive demand of hiddur. One can ask why this demand is not counted in the enumeration of the commandments. Perhaps because of the normative paradox (and thus it is not a formal halakhic obligation), or because rules applying to the entire system of mitzvot are not enumerated (like “half a measure,” etc.; see Yishlach Shoreshav in the article on Root Four and in the article on Root Ten).
[1] In the Megillat Antiochus we do find:
“Therefore the Hasmoneans firmly established and imposed a levy, and the children of Israel with them as one, to make these eight days days of feasting and joy like the appointed festivals written in the Torah, and to light candles in them to make known the victories God of heaven performed for them.”
This implies that candle lighting was indeed part of the Hasmoneans’ original enactment (though there is a slight shift in wording).
[2] So too it emerges from the wording of “Al HaNissim” and many other sources (Books of Maccabees, Yosippon, and Pesikta Rabbati) which do not include the cruse-of-oil miracle at all. It seems that in the days of Mattathias and the Hasmoneans, when this text was enacted, candle lighting—which commemorates the cruse—was in fact not enacted.
[3] I saw in Mo’adim U’Zmanim (R. Shternbuch), vol. 2, that he entertains the possibility that the enactment to light at each person’s doorway stems from the Hasmoneans—see his proofs and his own questions on them. According to my approach here, that only the hiddur is later, the difficulties resolve, though this is not the place to expand. And in Chasdei Avot (printed at the end of Yachin Da’at), §17, he writes that the candle enactment was after the destruction. So too brings R. Yehuda Gershuni in his article, Or HaMizrach, new series 22, issues 79–80, p. 43. See also R. N.D. Rabinowitz’s Binu Shenot Dor VaDor, who strongly challenges them. His questions also resolve if we assume the enactment was in the Temple era but later than the Hasmoneans. Indeed, Rambam himself in Sefer HaMitzvot, Root One, writes explicitly that the Hanukkah candle was enacted in the Temple era—see there.
[4] For the difference between the two tefillin mitzvot and the two fringes (white and tekhelet), see at length in Yishlach Shoreshav, in the article on Root Eleven; and also in my article “On Mitzvot and Parts of Mitzvot.”
A few things for you:
1) Very nice, I'm new here and I really enjoyed it
2) I didn't understand the calculation “Here, one person lights 36 candles (without the suns) on Hanukkah, and he lights this instead of the 8 candles that he was required to according to the law. That's 4 and a half times the law” The 36 is already with the addition, the 4 and a half times doesn't seem accurate to me
3) Do you go with azure on the tzitzit?
Thanks for this whole site, it looks really interesting and on a level
2=2*1
Although one is the base of the product
First of all, thank you
I've always felt this way about the numerical definitions for lessons that in the past would be based on an estimate, such as a kizait or the time of the beginning of Shabbat, etc.
The moment you define the weight of a kizait, for example, you sterilize the ability to summarize.
Do you think it's similar?
Why? In a situation where there is a need to take a higher rate (this is the case with donations, but usually it has nothing to do with the rate), you can take about an olive and a half.
Thank you.
I didn't understand what the difficulty was. It's exactly four and a half times. That is, instead of one and a third times, it's four and a half times.
Yes.
With pleasure.
I didn't understand in the end how the question of the PNI is settled by the fact that the collection is a special law commemorating a miracle. He asks himself why we needed a miracle, why did they bother to find a can of pure oil when they could have lit it with impure oil?
What is unclear? I answered that. A miracle is needed for it to be lit elegantly. Lighting with impure oil is permitted, but less elegant, of course.
He asked why they bothered looking for pure oil. They didn't know a miracle would happen. So why were they looking in the first place?
He didn't ask why they were looking, but why the miracle was needed (perhaps the word "trouble" confused you). They were looking because they wanted pure oil. It's true that if they hadn't found it, they would have lit it impurely, but they found it. And a miracle was performed for them that lasted for eight days. The miracle allowed them to light it beautifully. What is not clear here?
A. In Tefillin, why shouldn't the custom have status as archaeological proof of the ancient interpretation held by the Amoraim? Do you mean that the Talmud was accepted as it is and nothing more (like the article on the hermeneutics of the Tikvah, but not from the perspective of providence but from the perspective of the authority of acceptance. And so the issue is whether interpreting in Beit Yosef contrary to what he says in the Ksam is contradictory to accepting his instructions).
B. “If it were an ancient regulation, I wouldn't care about interpretations, whether they were corrected properly or not”. I didn't understand how this is different from any interpretation (of the Mishnah, the Gemara, and the Rishonim) in which there is and is concern for interpretations based on the assumption that the ancients corrected, explained, and interpreted properly. (If there is concern for interpretations, then perhaps the dispute is factual and not normative)
C. The Paradox of the Villain. What is the ruling on the judge who will say in the court during the decision? In my opinion, the ruling is that so-and-so is obligated and this is clear to me as day, but for some reason that is reserved with me, I decided to say, "I don't know." Will his opinion be recorded in the protocol that so-and-so is obligated or that he doesn't know? [You seem to be saying that the command of God Almighty is self-constituting and if God Almighty decides by His free choice about a mitzvah not to be commanded even though nothing has changed in His will other than that, then we are not commanded. I fail to understand how a command of God Almighty (as opposed to a formal command of the Knesset, whose authority was thus received only in matters of enacted laws) is a reason for something and not just a sign and consequence of a will that may or may not be a sign and consequence of some reason].
A. Who said no?
B. Because the interpretation is about what is appropriate to do. But if there is evidence that they acted in a certain way, then what is the point of discussing interpretations of what is appropriate?!
C. It is not a constraint that is hanging in the air. It accompanies the content of the law. It is impossible to demand to act contrary to the law and introduce this demand into the law. Not because it is impossible to write it, but because the content is ambiguous. Therefore, there is no command here in the formal sense and this is not a law. You can of course wonder what I care about the command beyond being a sign of the will of God, you can ask that about the difference between a law and the letter of the law without any connection to my words. The fact is that the very existence of a command is important. If you insist, I will tell you that when there is a command and it is not carried out, you have gone through two aspects: the bad result caused by the act and disobedience to the command (you might say to the will, not to the command. But here there is a difference between a will and a command. There is a difference between what a person wants and whether he asks me for it).
A. If the custom in such a matter proves the custom of the Gemara's authors, then how can our Rabbeinu Tam argue against the custom?
B. You are right. I was not precise.
C. I did not understand what you brought up from the letter of the law, what is the problem that there is a difference in the importance and strength of the reason for the commandment, and indeed the commandment and its absence are only a sign.
A. It is possible that he believed there were two customs (as mentioned, the excavations in Masada revealed that he was right about this). Especially if he believes this to be the truth, then he probably concludes that this was also the custom.
C. The difference in my opinion is not quantitative but qualitative. It is neither more nor less forbidden, but halachically forbidden and morally forbidden.
A. You asked why they bothered to sit on the meducha and the ancient regulation was not enough for them (even if it did not include lighting a candle). And on Shabbat they wanted to fix the levels of special decoration in accordance with the essence of the miracle. You emphasized the issue of updating the ancient regulation as if saying that updating and changing requires a stronger reason than an initial creation. Whatever the reason for the regulation of lighting and the regulation of the steps, what does this have to do with the question of whether there were updates to the regulations of Chanukah or everything from one source? If you said this more than for the revacha demilta, then this point interests me especially.
B. I did not exactly understand that if the essence of the miracle is a kind of decoration, then why is there a mitzvah for a man and his family that does not have any decoration in it. Did they establish the mitzvah for a man and his family only as an artificial means so that it would be possible to establish levels of decoration above it? (This, by the way, only fits the side you sided with from the Gemara and the Rambam, that in the ancient law there was no commandment to light a fire at all. I asked about the evidence from the Gemara separately, and in the words of the Rambam I suggested something in 430). However, in the case of Terumah, in which the Torah actually required only some beginning, and the Sages divided the law of the Torah into various classes.
A. It is mainly for the sake of convenience, but there is a reason why one should not interfere with an ancient regulation without a good reason. When today's sages decide that on Hanukkah one should also stand on one foot in addition to the existing holiday customs, it is different than reciting Hillel on Independence Day.
B. The candle commemorates the miracle that gave us oil. Therefore, it is interesting in its own right. The dimension of elegance is missing from it, but elegance is not the entire content of the mitzvah. My argument is that it is an essential part of it, but not the whole of it.
I am amazed. I forgot about column 430 and wrote this as if that one did not exist. Apparently the multitude of columns is misleading me.
B. So how is the question of the face of Joshua well settled, he deals with the very mitzvah of lighting. (In my eyes the column was as new in its emphasis and structure.)
I didn't understand the difficulty. He made it difficult why the miracle was necessary, and the answer was so that we could light it in style. What's difficult?
Oh, it's not difficult.
A. The explanation is understandable, but the analogy seems too far-fetched because standing on one leg during Hanukkah is something that even as a primary rule (without intervention) would not be done. If I understand correctly, a possible formulation of the explanation is “there is weight for conservatism in itself” [and also in the columns on conservatism you wrote that although there is no weight for simple conservatism if the explanation is on the side of the midrash, but where the explanation is weighty, there is weight for simple conservatism].
Obviously, standing on one foot is an extreme, but an extreme that aims to clarify our situation. I argued that the reason is rather weak to change an existing law based on it. In other words, the reason for the holiday fruit does not seem to me strong enough to change an ancient regulation. If a regulation is now being established, then the holiday fruit is a consideration for establishing it in a progressively more lenient manner.
By the way, do you think there is a reason that is weak enough to establish a dispute (another one) or that the existence of a dispute has no weight (i.e. why didn't the House of Hillel, for example, say, "Our reason is weak in practical force, we will yield to the House of Shammai for the sake of unity").
Why except disputes? If in my opinion it is more correct then I will recommend it. At most we will take a vote and decide unanimously, if it is really important. And if not – everyone will act according to their own opinion.
I didn't understand, only the paradox of the villain doesn't create a problem in the compilation of a mitzvah of this to me. Its name is a mitzvah and a complete obligation, so why isn't the paradox here?
I wrote that this can also be done in the usual mitzvah. But it is possible that the obligation is to perform the mitzvah in a binding manner and not as a requirement that goes beyond the law. This can be done in an actual command. I argued that in the Hanukkah candle, the obligation is not to fulfill the mitzvah but to do something voluntary.
Correct me if I misunderstood the following points:
A. The collection from this to me is the collection that we are commanded to do, meaning that God, blessed be He, obligated us to do the mitzvot that we are fulfilling. This is an obligation (positive mitzvah) that does not hinder, as blue is for white.
B. In addition to the general collection from this to me, there is a special collection in the Hanukkah candle (because the miracle itself was that we lit the collection). It is an obligation, and indeed we were not commanded to do it because God, blessed be He (the Sages in this case) wanted us to understand on our own that it is an obligation. And this is like a donation, which is expected of us to give 1/40 if possible.
C. If we add to this what you wrote at the beginning of the steps between the standing ones, we conclude that there are three levels: one, an explicit command, which is an obligation for all intents and purposes. Second, God’s desire to command it (because He wants it to come from us), which is a binding requirement and if we did not fulfill it, we missed a mitzvah. And third, the lowest, just a desire (an expression of desire) that for one reason or another the one who has the desire has not commanded us to do, which is not an obligation in the strict sense of the word, but if we want to do things the right way we must also fulfill it.
I just didn't understand something. Why did the sages on Hanukkah and in return set a schedule and set lessons, and not let the person act completely freely?
A. This is one possibility. Another possibility is that there is no command here but rather an expression of will, and then here too, because of the paradox of the villain, there is an extra-halachic expectation from us.
B. True.
C. True.
Because they wanted to hint to him about what is expected of him. Without this, it is doubtful whether people would understand that they are expected to do more.
I didn't really understand the question of the Griz. It is true that up to one third there is an obligation to make a collection, but whoever wants to make more than one third, a righteous person will tell him, and the law of mehadrin on Hanukkah is for those who want to make a collection beyond the basic obligation of making a collection?
Ultimately, in both the paradox of the villain and the collection in the Hanukkah candle, I didn't understand how to solve the problem. Although they presented the things on paper as if it were only a matter of law and collection, but ultimately in these statements lies a requirement and an obligation, and again, this is not a matter of law and collection, but the actual law?
But here there is a definition of special compilation, and apparently it is not possible to compile with less than that. In my opinion you are right, but there is a difficulty here.
No, this is not the rule. But there is an expectation (and not a command) to do so.
Are your words regarding the paradox in the Hanukkah candle also true in every compilation up to a third of the law “This is to me and to us” where it is simply obligatory, even though there also belongs the paradox that if it is obligatory, it is not done as a compilation?
I answered this in the column and also to EA here above.
Thanks for the explanation. Even when I studied the issue, it seemed clear that this was not a dispute about the very doubt that fell on the mitzvah, but rather how the Shabbat and the B’sha define the hidur according to their understanding.
Sages tend to emphasize certain mitzvahs in a deliberate manner, and here it seems that they exaggerated their worthiness for additional hidur. The addition of a very practical mitzvah also serves to reinforce the story, as seen in the Passover Haggadah, as if the story must be accompanied by a symbolic act so that the Haggadah is not forgotten.
Historically, Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel saw the decline of the Hasmoneans, who became closer to the Sadducees and closer to the Greek and Roman empires. Doesn’t the matter of lighting Hanukkah candles in a strictly mehadrin mehadrin manner constitute a certain kind of protest by the Pharisees against their rule, to remind them in a big way of the gap between what their ancestors practiced and where they are now inclined?
On the 24th of Kislev, 53
From the general point of view, to be content with the mitzvot, there is no reason to multiply the candles, just as there is no room for adding houses for tefillin and threads for tzitzit, etc. Regarding the Hanukkah candle, the Sages reiterated that there is room for multiplying the candles, because the multiplication of the candles has a conceptual statement. Whether by multiplying the candles in relation to the members of the house, which is in it a “multiplier with the splendor of a king,” or by giving expression to the dimension of time, in relation to the days that come or go, in which case we say that this was not a one-time event, but an ongoing miracle that is supposed to leave its mark for a long time. Here, the counting of days is like the counting of the Omer or like the counting of the days of the Sukkot holiday, both of which express the desire that the effect of the holiday will continue even to the mundane days that follow it.
With regards, Shraga Kadmon-Tihransky
The counting also expresses the importance of each day of the holiday, which adds strength and spiritual power.
And perhaps the disagreement between B'S and B'B'A, who lived during the decline of the Hasmonean kingdom, during the reign of Herod, is whether to emphasize the glorious past by glorifying what was, or to emphasize the expectation of a better future.
Best regards, Shek't