Lighting Hanukkah Candles on the Internet (Column 350)
What exactly is being proposed when Hanukkah moves online
The column opens from Racheli Deutsch's proposal, which against the background of the coronavirus asks whether publicizing the miracle should move from the sidewalk to stories and social networks. The rabbi comments that her philosophical discussion of Kant and the perception of time is probably inaccurate and in any case unnecessary to the halakhic issue. For him, the important question is what exactly is being proposed: a virtual candle, a photograph or video of a real candle, or a story or text that publicizes the miracle without candles. That distinction turns out to be halakhically decisive.
Tradition is not a hollow pipe but transmission through interpretation
From there the column moves to a principled discussion of tradition and change. The rabbi returns to his claim that halakha is not Orthodox stagnation, but a system that requires adaptation to changing circumstances; the problem with ossified Orthodoxy is not excessive loyalty to halakha but a very specific and frozen interpretation of that loyalty. He calls that ethos plain conservatism, as if our role were merely to pass the Torah along unchanged. In practice that never existed: every tradition passes through interpretation, and only in recent generations have we become so aware of this that the awareness itself can become paralyzing.
Midrashic conservatism: sometimes change is what loyalty requires
To explain this, the rabbi presents the distinction between plain conservatism and midrashic conservatism. His swimsuit parable sharpens the point: if the tradition arose in a hot desert, then in a cold region loyalty to the tradition itself requires moving to warm clothes; whoever insists on swimsuits in the name of preservation betrays the tradition itself. So there are cases in which clinging to the old plain meaning is conservative delinquency, while the new adaptation is the only way to do God's will. This is not laxity or surrender to the spirit of the age, but a genuine disagreement about the correct interpretation of halakhic commitment.
Why one usually cannot change halakha according to its purpose
After that introduction, the rabbi also marks the boundary: not every midrashic-conservative move is allowed. If one wants to replace an enactment or create a new prohibition because it seems to realize the purpose of the halakha better, two heavy problems arise: authority, since today there is no Great Court that can alter enactments, and ta'ama de-kra, since halakha is generally not rebuilt on the basis of its presumed purpose. He gives shemitta as an example: even if someone thinks its social aim should now take a different form, we do not have the authority simply to redesign it.
The crucial distinction: a story instead of candles versus lighting candles for the network
From here the column reaches its central distinction. If the claim is that today stories, posts, plays, or writing about the miracle are more effective than lighting candles, and therefore should be done instead of lighting candles, that is a change in the rabbinic enactment, and it is blocked both by the lack of authority and by the teleological use of the reason for the enactment. But if the claim is that the original rabbinic obligation itself was to light a candle where the public sees it, and today the public passes mainly through the network, then one is not changing the halakha but reinterpreting its concepts. In that case one should light a real candle, with all the laws of lighting, but broadcast it to the place where the public domain is actually found.
When the home and the marketplace move onto the internet
On this reading, the home of 'a candle for each person and his household' can be my website or my Facebook page, the marketplace of 'until foot traffic ceases from the market' is the public space of the network, and the feet are the users who watch and click. The rabbi stresses that this is similar to what decisors already do regarding the time of lighting, when they adapt it to the hours in which people are outside today. Therefore, at the conceptual level, if the public were to stop passing through the street and pass only through the network, someone who insisted on lighting דווקא in the window would miss the enactment and might even count as an offender in the name of conservatism. In practice, today there is still a real street as well, so online lighting is at the very least a legitimate halakhic option, and perhaps even preferable, especially in the age of coronavirus.
Why the physical window is unnecessary, but a drawn candle is still not enough
Here the rabbi sharpens that he is even more lenient than the original proposer: if lighting on the network indeed fulfills the enactment, there is no additional halakhic need to light on the windowsill, even if that has cultural or traditional value. On the other hand, he is also stricter: one cannot make do with general publicity of the miracle or with a drawn candle. A virtual candle in the sense of a simulation or animation is probably not a translation of the concept of a candle, because unlike an internet site, which really replaces a geographic site in many significant ways, a drawing of a candle is not treated by us as a candle. So one may translate the concepts of space, but not easily the object of the act itself.
The broader implication: this is how he understands a Zoom minyan as well
At the end of the column the rabbi applies the same framework to a Zoom minyan. If virtual space is a real part of the space in which we live, then ten people present together in a Zoom meeting can, in his view, join to form a minyan no less and perhaps more naturally than balcony minyanim that rely on strained combinations. Here too he insists that this is not a narrow emergency allowance for the coronavirus period, but a legitimate translation of halakhic concepts of place and space into contemporary reality.
This morning I found a question on the site dealing with posting Hanukkah candle lighting on the internet. Yesterday I received a link to a post by Racheli Deutsch on the same topic (which may have been the basis for the question). She also raises a more radical possibility: replacing the obligation to light candles (especially in the corona era, when sometimes there is no longer foot traffic in the marketplace) with publicizing the miracle in various online forms. These questions sharpen substantial issues touching the roots of halakha: to what extent we are bound by principles set long ago; what may be changed and in what ways; the role of purposive interpretation (ta‘ama dikra, or the reasons behind rabbinic enactments); and, of course, the ever-present question of authority.
The proposal for a virtual candle
For the conservatives among us, I’ll begin with Racheli’s words—if only to give them a chance to let off steam. She opens her column as follows:
The goal: publicizing the Hanukkah miracle. The means: lighting a hanukkiyah with candles corresponding to the days of the festival and placing it in the window so that passersby in the street will be reminded of the Hanukkah miracle as they pass your window. But what happens when there are no passersby due to the coronavirus crisis? Or, phrased more philosophically: does a hanukkiyah shine in the window if no one from outside looks at it? The Sages will say one thing, while Kant will focus the story in a somewhat different place.
There she discusses the Sages’ conception of time (which tied time to events and human behavior, as at the beginning of tractate Berakhot regarding the time for Shema) and grounds her proposal in the claim that time is subjective (in my view she did not interpret Kant correctly; moreover, to my mind her proposal does not in any way depend on Kantian notions of time and space). Beyond the philosophic background and arguments, she ultimately reaches the following proposal:
Publicizing the miracle does not take place between the living room and the kitchen; the commandment here is not an inward-facing, domestic-education mitzvah. The mitzvah of lighting Hanukkah candles turns outward, into the public sphere, to the marketplace, which is physically empty right now but has apparently moved into another, non-physical space where activity occurs at different hours. People do not stop gathering; they simply find new spaces in which to congregate—virtual spaces.
It is worthwhile to continue lighting the candle on the windowsill, if only for reasons of tradition; but then the question is—does a candle in the window suffice, or should we perhaps also upload it to a story? Might one of the changes of the corona era become a custom of turning the physical candle into a virtual—if not viral—one?
Beyond considerations of tradition and folklore, she proposes turning the essential candle into a virtual one—i.e., to perform the publicizing of the miracle by uploading a story instead of lighting a candle. It is not clear to me whether she means placing a virtual candle in our story (to my shame, I don’t know exactly what a “story” is), or filming the lighting of a real candle and uploading it to a story, or perhaps posting a story (=story, caption) that publicizes the miracle regardless of candles. There is a difference between these proposals, and I will return to it at the end of the column.
General preface: What is tradition?
In several essays, and in greater detail in my third book of the trilogy (Walking Among the Standers), I addressed the matter of legitimate and illegitimate changes in halakha. Precisely from the starting point that sees halakha as the essence of Jewish faith and commitment (see also Columns 336–339), I showed there that not only is it possible, it is even important to adapt halakha to the ever-renewing circumstances of each time and place.
Contrary to the prevailing approach that advocates ossification and absolute adherence to what has been accepted until now, halakha does not require that. The phenomenon called “Orthodoxy” is nothing but an excessive rigidity that arose as a reaction to Reform and the Haskalah. This leads people and decisors to entirely abandon the possibility of changing halakha and adapting it to new and different circumstances—even where there is no halakhic impediment to doing so. In this sense, the term “Orthodoxy” does not mean loyalty to halakha, but a very particular (and ossified) interpretation of that loyalty. Therefore the opposite of Orthodoxy in this sense is not Reform or Conservatism, but Modern Orthodoxy. At the foundation of this approach lies the conception that absolute loyalty to halakha not only permits changes but requires them.[1] Ossified Orthodoxy rests on what I called “plain conservatism” (clinging to halakha as-is), whereas Modern Orthodoxy cleaves to what halakha truly expects of us; its fundamental approach is “midrashic conservatism.” The halakha to which I am loyal and which I observe is a halakha that is constantly undergoing “midrashim,” i.e., interpretations and adaptations to changing circumstances.
To avoid misunderstandings, let me sharpen and note that there is no such thing in the world as a “pure plain conservative” in the full, pristine sense. “Plain conservatism” is an idealized ethos, not an approach actually practiced. There is no person or group in the world that observes halakha without assigning to it certain interpretations—and usually those interpretations are influenced in varied ways by the spirit of the times and by the circumstances in which one lives and acts. But there are people and groups who live with the consciousness that they are preserving halakha as given at Sinai (the ethos being that Moses our teacher wore a gartel and shtreimel and spoke Yiddish). Human beings are complicated and complex creatures; thus, alongside an awareness that this is not correct, they maintain a very strong ethos that the principled state of affairs is nonetheless such. This is the ethos of tradition as an “empty conduit,” meaning that our role is to transmit and preserve the Torah exactly as we received it from Moses at Sinai, without touching it.[2]
An example of such lack of awareness is Rabbi Eliezer’s statement about himself that he never said anything he had not heard from his teacher. It is hard for me to believe that R. Eliezer himself believed this. Rabbi Kook’s well-known question (in his assessment essay on the Sochatchover Rebbe) cites the midrash that says he uttered things “that no ear had ever heard.” It seems to me that this contradiction points to the dual levels I described above: R. Eliezer lived by the ethos of tradition in the sense of an “empty conduit” (or “plain conservatism”), but in practice it never existed and cannot exist. A person can think that he is merely transmitting his teacher’s Torah exactly as he heard it, yet in fact utter innovations “that no ear has ever heard.” This is a matter of awareness—and perhaps even if the awareness exists, only the ethos remains.
Our generation’s problem is our reflexivity—our awareness of the matter. We have ceased to be naïve, and today we are well aware that there is no tradition without interpretation, and that we too are not exempt from it. Among the Sages and in the writings of the sages of the generations, one can find quite a few sources and statements expressing this (such as the well-known midrash about Moses in Rabbi Akiva’s study hall, and more). But it seems that in our day—especially in the postmodern era of narratives and cultural relativism—awareness of this has greatly increased. This awareness leads people, and even decisors, to paralysis. Someone aware that the halakha he rules is in fact not the Torah of Moses but his own Torah may reach a state where he will not allow himself to rule. He will try as far as possible to adhere to precedents and not to exercise his own judgment. Even when he does so, of course he will not fully succeed; nevertheless, he will act feeling that his judgment is exercised within an ossified conservative ethos of this sort.
Alternatively, if indeed we are already aware of this, there is also a more reasonable possibility: not to flinch, and to make proud and conscious use of our interpretation. Just as all our predecessors did—some of them unconsciously—so we are called upon to do consciously today. This is, of course, very dangerous, since a person can insert his cravings and desires into his halakhic rulings and lose his commitment to the word of God. But we must not recoil—if only because we have no choice. We are well aware that the word of God is always mediated to us by people and, of course, by our own intellect, and is influenced by the circumstances within which we act (as in the essay “The Poet”: “Man is nothing but the form of his homeland’s landscape”). But the only alternative is to do nothing. Moreover, I contend that we are obligated to make such interpretations and adaptations; otherwise we do not fulfill the will of God. God’s will is always expressed in the world in which we live, and if we cling to ancient interpretations that are not relevant today, we deviate from His will (I have often called this “conservative criminality”).
The bathing-suit example
An example I have often used to illustrate this concerns a group of people who, together with their forebears, have been walking in the desert for many generations wearing bathing suits. That is their traditional dress. Then an era arrives in which the present generation reaches a colder region, and a dispute erupts regarding how they should conduct themselves. One group demands continuing to wear the same clothing out of loyalty to their ancestral tradition (“plain conservatism”). Another group says they are cold and unwilling to keep the tradition (these are the heretics). But there is a third group that maintains that there is an obligation, deriving from the tradition, to switch to warm clothing (“midrashic conservatism”). Note that in their view this is not the evil inclination at work, nor even a permissible leniency; it is an obligation emanating from the tradition itself, and in this they differ from the heretics (even if in practice the two groups look identical).
According to the “midrashic conservatives,” the tradition does not say that one must wear bathing suits. That may be its plain sense, but they apply a “midrash” that says the true obligation is to wear clothing suited to the climate. In the past, when they and their forebears lived in hot regions, the clothing suited to the climate was a bathing suit, hence their practice. But now that we are in a cold region, the obligation is to wear warm clothes. Note that, in their view, a “plain conservative” who—out of loyalty to the tradition—walks in a bathing suit in the cold regions where we live today is a transgressor who deviates from the tradition. This is an example of what I call “criminal conservatism.” Incidentally, the “plain conservative” may not be aware of it, but clearly he too is interpreting the tradition. The determination that the tradition mandates wearing bathing suits is itself one possible interpretation (=the peshat?…) he chooses. Cf. Rabbi Eliezer.
It is important to understand that the “midrashic conservative” is not using midrash to permit himself leniencies (even though here—and perhaps in many other places—the conclusion is more convenient and easier to carry out). One who uses such a midrash merely to permit things for himself without believing the midrash to be true is simply from the group of heretics (just hiding it). In the “midrashic conservative’s” eyes, his position is a direct outgrowth of commitment to the tradition; if he continues to wear bathing suits, he will not be fulfilling his obligation. In his view, if you want to do the will of God in the circumstances in which you act, you must switch to warm clothes. The tendency of many to see such midrashim as corner-cutting, lack of commitment and loyalty, or capitulation to the spirit of the times is a mistake—and at times a deliberate demagogic trick. Sometimes it really is that (the covert heretic), but there are many situations in which this is a hermeneutic dispute about the tradition (or halakha). The “midrashic conservative” is no less loyal to halakha than his colleague, the “plain conservative.” He simply disagrees about what halakha and loyalty to it demand.
After this necessary preface, we can move on to discuss candle lighting and adjacent issues.
The authority to innovate laws and ta‘ama dikra
In Column 275 I discussed Rabbi Yaakov Ariel’s position regarding the “smart home.” I argued there that even if the motivation to prohibit all “smart home” operations on Shabbat were acceptable to me, I do not accept the possibility of a contemporary decisor to prohibit it. We cannot innovate prohibitions on our own authority, since that authority is given only to the Great Court (Sanhedrin) and its ordained members. A sage in our day can only interpret the Torah-level and rabbinic laws that were accepted by authorized institutions—no more and no less.
In the Talmud, the Tannaim dispute whether we derive the reason behind the verse (ta‘ama dikra)—Rabbi Shimon—or not—Rabbi Yehudah; that is, whether purposive interpretation may be used in shaping halakha.[3] In practice, we rule like Rabbi Yehudah: we do not. Seemingly, every midrashic-conservative move relies on the reasons for the given halakha, and in that sense it cannot be used to interpret and shape it.
Thus, for example, various arguments arise regarding updating the sabbatical-year mitzvah in our generation, when there are almost no farmers. The claim is that in the past most of the public worked in agriculture; therefore halakha legislated shemitah regarding land. But in our day, when people engage in diverse professions, the sabbatical-year mitzvah should be updated: give people freedom from work, mandate broader redistribution of wealth from rich to poor, and so forth. Beyond the question of whether this is indeed the purpose of shemitah (I greatly doubt it), even if I accept this purposive analysis, two difficult problems truly arise in such cases: the question of authority, and the question of ta‘ama dikra. Such a purposive analysis of shemitah is a blatant application of ta‘ama dikra. Beyond that, is there in our day any authority empowered to make such a halakhic change?[4] I think not.
Therefore, with respect to shemitah I indeed tend to think that there is no reasonable halakhic way in our day to overcome these two problems (aside from my strong doubt that this is the true ta‘ama dikra—that is, whether this “midrashic conservative” analysis is even correct). But it is important to note that in the matter of lighting Hanukkah candles, the situation is entirely different.
A distinction between two kinds of proposals
As I already noted above, Racheli Deutsch’s contention can be presented in two forms:
- The more appropriate way to celebrate Hanukkah today is to post stories on the internet. This publicizes the miracle in a far broader and more effective way than lighting candles; therefore, today the proper fulfillment of the Hanukkah mitzvah is to upload a story rather than to light candles.
For the sake of discussion, I will accept her premise that the goal of lighting is indeed publicizing the miracle, and that the way to do so online is more effective. Even so, the two problems I described above arise here: (a) There is currently no body with authority to change the Sages’ enactment to light Hanukkah candles. (b) We do not derive ta‘ama dikra (also regarding rabbinic enactments)—that is, we do not change a rabbinic enactment based on purposive interpretation. Thus, for example, even in the time of the Sages one could have thought of equally good ways to publicize the miracle: writing a large sign thanking God for the victory and salvation, and hanging it in the windows of homes; staging plays about the Hasmoneans and the Greeks; publishing books on the topic; and so on. None of these can substitute for fulfilling the original enactment—either because of authority or because we do not derive ta‘ama dikra. The act of the mitzvah as enacted obligates us. If we wish to increase the publicity of the miracle, we can do additional things—but not instead of the original enactment.
- The Sages mandated lighting candles at the entrances of homes so they would be seen from the outside—until foot traffic ceases from the marketplace. Today the true meaning of “marketplace” (a geographic site) and of people’s “feet” is websites (the virtual site) and the users who pass through them.
Despite the resemblance, it is easy to see that there is a great difference between this proposal and the previous one. Here we are not dealing with changing the enactment, but with a truer implementation of the enactment itself in the circumstances of our present-day lives. Today the relevant marketplace is Facebook and the internet, and the people who pass through the marketplace are the users. Now we can see that this is not a “midrashic conservative” move that comes to change halakha and replace it with another halakha; rather, it is an updated interpretation of the concepts that underlay the original enactment. One who lights candles in the window when no one passes by simply does not fulfill the enactment. People today pass by on Facebook and in virtual spaces, not in our actual streets; therefore, lighting the candles so that they face the marketplace and those passing through it should be done online.
One implication of this difference concerns authority. A change in halakha requires authority: what the Great Court legislated can be changed only by the Great Court. But interpretation is entrusted to every individual and every sage in every place and time. If indeed this is the correct interpretation of the matter, then implementing the halakha is an obligation upon each person, and the prohibition against failing to act according to halakha applies to everyone. It does not depend on formal authority.
Changing the concepts of space
The proposal to write a Facebook story instead of lighting a candle in the window belongs to the first category. Here we are speaking about changing the original halakha and adopting another halakha in its place. This is a “midrashic conservative” move (what is required of us is to publicize the miracle, and this is how to publicize it best), but, as is typical of such a midrash, it seeks to change the halakha. By contrast, the second proposal does not say to change the halakha. It proposes doing the lighting that was originally enacted, but the location of the lighting need not be at the doorway of the home or in the window; rather, it should be in front of our webcam, which broadcasts the matter to the public domain of the web. As Racheli’s words suggest, our spatial concepts differ from those of the past, and we must adapt halakha’s concepts to ours.
According to this interpretation, the home in which one lights the candle (“a candle for each person and his household”) is my website (or Facebook page); the marketplace (“until foot traffic ceases from the marketplace”) is the public domain of the web; and the feet (that “cease from the marketplace”) are the hands of users tapping on keyboards and their eyes watching my site. Clearly, the times when people are present in the marketplace and when they “cease” from it are very different in our reality; but with respect to the time of lighting, many decisors have indeed written that there is room to adapt the enactment to our times (people are out in the marketplace until late hours). In this sense, there is no change to halakha here—only a translation of its spatial and temporal concepts into the reality of our time. In light of this interpretation, one who lights a candle at the doorway or window does not fulfill the enactment (this is criminal conservatism). Today it is obligatory to do it on the web, because that is the true public domain. This should be done with olive oil, the customary number of candles, and all the usual hiddurim from the physical world—but the claim is that all this should be streamed to the web. This is essentially a translation of the original enactment’s spatial concepts and their updated implementation in our reality.
Consider a more extreme reality in which people truly no longer walk in the streets at all. Would it be conceivable that we would continue lighting candles in the window and at the doorway merely because that was originally legislated? And what if an even more extreme situation arises—for example, one in which people do not notice lit candles at all? Would it be conceivable that we would continue lighting candles as before? (This is the well-known story of the broom of the Gerer Rebbe, also said regarding Hanukkah candle lighting; see Column 2.) Would it not be proper in such a case to think of other ways to publicize the miracle? In such a reality, I think there would be room to accept even proposals of type 1 and change the halakha. But even in our day, when the change in circumstances is not so extreme, proposal 2 is practically called for, since it does not change halakha but merely applies it to the reality of our time. My claim is not only that it is permissible to do so, but that one who does not might, in principle, be considered a transgressor. In our day this is not the case, of course, since people still walk in the street and see lit candles; but clearly even today this is at least a legitimate halakhic path—if not a preferable one (especially in the corona era).
Note that I am more lenient than Racheli, since I argue that there is no need at all to light a candle in the window. That may have cultural and traditional importance, but not halakhic. The halakha can be fulfilled even if one lights only on the internet. On the other hand, I do think one must light a candle according to all the rules and not perform some other form of pirsumei nisa. In this sense, I may be stricter than she is (though I am not sure I understood her intent).
The line between these two proposals is not sharp. Consider what we would say about a simulation of a candle (an animated film) instead of a real candle. Can this be seen as a translation of the concept “candle” into our time? It seems to me not. Most of us do not see a drawing of a candle as a substitute for a candle—unlike a website, which is entirely a substitute for a geographical site in all essential respects. Therefore there are things that cannot be considered conceptual translations; in such cases we are dealing with a substantive change of halakha that requires purposive reasoning, justification, and authority.
Joining a minyan in the corona era
In several places in the past (see here and here) I wrote that, in my opinion, during corona times a Zoom minyan is possible—that is, ten people joining a Zoom meeting can be considered a minyan. In my view this is even better than “balcony minyanim,” which rely on certain opinions among the decisors. If the virtual space is, in our day, a space in every respect, then whatever is said about combining to form a minyan can be said about it as well. And again, here too we are not changing halakha, but translating halakha’s spatial concepts into the language of our time. The “site” on the internet is a site in every respect, even if contemporary decisors who do not live this reality (and certainly decisors of the past, who could not have known it) do not understand this and therefore do not approve it. Moreover, their considerations usually take into account slippery-slope concerns, conservatism, communal consequences, etc.
In light of what I have written here, it seems to me that such combination constitutes an entirely lekhatchilah (ideal) arrangement, not merely a dispensation in exigent circumstances stated for the corona period. It is a correct translation (even if not the only one, of course) of the concepts of place and space in the circumstances of our time, and therefore does not constitute a change of halakha—only its translation into the reality of our lives.
[1] See this in the classes on Walking Among the Standers and in the Q&A on the site here.
[2] See this in the prologue to the third book, and in my lecture series this year at the Institute for Advanced Torah Studies, Topics in the Philosophy of Halakha.
[3] See my article on the fourth root in the book He Shall Send Forth His Roots.
[4] Rabbi Kook, in his book To the Perplexed of the Generation, wrote that when a Sanhedrin is established it will be able to change even the very rule that we do not derive ta‘ama dikra.
Discussion
Although what the rabbi wrote makes sense, I would appreciate clarification about the boundary between changing halakhah and applying or interpreting it differently.
If even in the time of Hazal, those who instituted the ordinance could have thought of better publicity as you suggest, why do we need to change anything in this matter?
Even in our virtual times, more people in general still walk around in the street than on a screen (there are quite a few people, heaven forbid, without internet at all… see how much effort had to be invested for students without a computer).
It is possible, and very likely, that Hazal preferred less publicity but something suited to everyone, rather than greater publicity that is really not suited to everyone.
Even a poor man in Israel must sell his garment and buy a candle (and not, fortunately for him, a computer and camera according to your view).
And in general, as long as your approach has not been accepted, most of those publicizing the miracle at the time of publicizing the miracle are lighting candles and are not at the computer, so that even those who are meticulous according to your approach in practice publicize the miracle less.
And furthermore, in my humble opinion the concept of publicity is not in the sense we use today, for what Jew over the age of 3 has not heard of and does not know the Hanukkah miracle? To whom exactly does one need to publicize the matter? The point is probably to create an atmosphere of thanksgiving to God for the miracle, and that is apparently done better in the original form of the ordinance.
It seems to me that even in the laws of the State of Israel today, the concept of the public domain still remains as Hazal knew it and has still not been replaced by something else, so in my humble opinion the determination that this is a legitimate halakhic path, and perhaps even preferable, is somewhat exaggerated.
To my mind, the essential discussion here, beyond the question of publicizing the miracle, is the discussion about the concept of place. Is a virtual place a place? Is a site a site, as its name suggests? Does it have the status of a “place” for halakhic matters? The sentence that seems important to me in the long term, and for various rulings required by the days of Corona and the presence of Zoom, is the following sentence from the section concluding this post:
“If virtual space is a space in every respect nowadays, then everything said about joining for a minyan can also be said in relation to it. And again, here too this is not about changing halakhah but about translating halakhic concepts of space into the language of our time. The ‘site’ on the internet is a site in every respect, even if decisors nowadays who do not live this situation (and certainly decisors from the past who could not have known this reality) do not understand this and therefore do not approve it.”
Because for us the concepts have changed. Did I ruin my keyboard for nothing with the distinction between proposal 1 and proposal 2?
I can’t make sense of the rest of the arguments. What does what most of the public do have to do with the question of what the optimal way is?
The numerical comparison is also ridiculous. You’re not supposed to do statistics on how many people out of everyone walk in the street. Ask yourself how many will see the candle you light in the window and how many will see the candle you put on Facebook. At least for me personally, the answer is entirely clear.
I clarified it היטב in the column. And I also wrote that there are gray areas. What else do you want to know? If you have a question, please formulate it.
And let us say amen! 🙂
If virtual space is a space in every respect, perhaps one should discuss whether lighting transfers the candle in my home from a private domain to a public domain (the virtual space), and therefore one should be doubly careful not to light on Shabbat.
Maybe one can add something to weaken proposal 1. The greatest pirsumei nisa is the fancy sufganiyot at Roladin. In any case, even when people see a candle, nobody is reminded of the miracle anymore, only of the festive concept “Hanukkah,” just as an idiom becomes detached from its literal meaning. Today every reasonable person gets many reminders during the day that it’s Hanukkah now, and the candle does not add much.
With God’s help, candle of the Lord of Hanukkah 5781
The proposal to light “a candle for a man and his household” on the internet assumes that a person’s “household” is his virtual site. Since that is so, the following idea occurred to me: why spend hundreds of thousands of shekels to buy an apartment, while taking loans and mortgages that create decades of bondage? Let us give every young couple an internet site, where they will live and raise their children, and thus the housing crisis will finally be solved!
Regards, Samson Letz-Man, Minister of Virtual Housing
You assume here that the ordinance is “publicity,” and that the manner of fulfilling it is subject to change according to incidental circumstances. I think the plain meaning is that the ordinance is “lighting the candle in the street,” and therefore even if its rationale is nullified, or that rationale can be fulfilled in a better way, we have no power whatsoever to change it. I am astonished by the lengthy pilpul here that omitted this point.
In this context I wondered whether in the “Big Brother” house (which is filmed), lighting the Hanukkah menorah should be done with God’s name and kingship in the blessing, even though they light inside the house and not on the windowsill.
Soon every brain will get a jar in which it will live while connected to electrodes. Candle-lighting will be carried out by the blinking of electrons.
Why this astonishment? The essence and substance of the column is “the distinction between two kinds of proposals” and a discussion of the idea that uploading a candle to the web is exactly, exactly like lighting a candle in the street. One can argue, but where astonishment found a resting place I do not know.
About your proposal it will be said: “Children of understanding (artificial), the eight days—they established song and joyful praise.”
Regards, Electro-Dos
In a similar vein, I suggested that instead of going to school, the students should sleep in bed, and electrodes would transfer into their brains all the necessary information.
In this context, and in the much broader context,
do you think that if the state were to act according to the Torah, there would be intrinsic value in changing halakhot and legislating מחדש? In other words, what is your position in the controversy of Yeshayahu the Third with R. Neria? I tried searching around the site and didn’t see where you wrote about it.
Moreover, see in Neria Guttel’s book, in the last chapter, about changing ordinances, and you’ll see there exactly such considerations in the repeal of ordinances without fulfilling the condition of a court greater in wisdom and number.
For some reason I seem to remember that I addressed this controversy not long ago (I don’t remember where). But I didn’t understand how it is connected to this discussion.
Rabbi Michi,
In your opinion, does the “place of lighting” change according to the person? For those who have a window facing the Ayalon Highway, or for people like me who do not have many followers on their Facebook page, are they still obligated to light in the same way as was customary in the days of Hazal?
And if so, would the law also have varied from person to person in the days of Hazal (aside from what is explained in the Gemara)? Someone who has a large family at home, and whose doorway opens to the public domain where not many people pass by—was he supposed to light inside the house? Or perhaps he should have lit in his place in the synagogue (if that could be done safely)? Or at his workplace?
If so, why do we not see a Hanukkah menorah on the rabbi’s Facebook page??
Because I do not use Facebook. And also because I only just thought of it now.
The commandment is “a candle for a man and his household.” Lighting candles in the town square is not the commandment (even if it is a great publicizing of the miracle. The synagogue lighting, which is done with a blessing, is also not the main thing).
And Facebook and Instagram today may perhaps be a display window for the individual, but they are not the window of the house (not even a metaphorical house window). When they instituted the commandment, they instituted it with respect to the house, and apparently in the view of the enactors it is important that the candle have a connection to the house.
With God’s help, fifth candle of Hanukkah 5781
To David—greetings,
If the purpose of the Hanukkah candle had been to illuminate the street and publicize the victory there, one should have fulfilled it as the poet said: “Come, let us light up banner and torch; together let us sing the song of Hanukkah.”
By contrast, Hazal disqualified the torch, and specifically required “a candle for a man and his household,” and even for the meticulous and the most meticulous, a small candle represents each member of the household (or the number of days beginning or ending). A candle and not a torch, a small Hanukkah menorah and not a beacon. The festival of Hanukkah expresses the victory of the Jewish home over Greek extroversion, and therefore its symbol is the candle at the entrance to the house.
The festival of Hanukkah bears the stamp of the two Torah leaders of that generation—Yose ben Yo’ezer of Tzeredah (who was murdered in the Greek persecutions) and Yose ben Yochanan of Jerusalem—both of whom emphasized the importance of the Jewish home, which must be a place of Torah, “let your house be a meeting place for sages,” and on the other hand must be a place of kindness, “let your house be open wide.”
The Hanukkah candle at the entrance to the house thus signals the uniqueness of the home as a place that shines with “For the commandment is a lamp and Torah is light,” while at the same time this light is open to the public domain, and signals to those still “outside”: “Come and enter; you too come out to the light of Torah and faith.”
The entire victory of the Hasmoneans over the mighty Seleucid empire is the story of one Jewish family, a father and his five sons, who through their determination and cohesion drew the many after them, dared to go to war against the empire, and changed the course of history—teaching us that a world revolution can begin in one Jewish home radiating determination and cohesion.
Regards, Amioz Yaron Schnitzler
It should be noted that even the “Independence Day” of the people of Israel, the night on which the festival of Passover is sanctified, was not celebrated with victory parades in the streets. On the contrary, the Greek “afikoman” processions were forbidden, in which marchers go from house to house and sweep the celebrants into jubilating in the streets. Passover is indeed offered together by “the whole congregation of Israel,” but its eating is specifically as a “family sacrifice,” in which parents and their children recline together and tell of the Exodus from Egypt. The secret of the nation’s survival begins with the family.
In the course of my discussion with Dvir and Yishai (in response to his answer to the Beit Yosef’s question), the issue arose of the testimony of Greek historians about the Maccabean wars. It turns out that one detail “merited” many descriptions among Greek historians: Antiochus’ “shocking discoveries” when he entered the Holy of Holies, which led him to profane the Temple and decree religious persecution against the Jews.
For example, Diodorus Siculus relates that the advisers of Antiochus VII Sidetes, who laid siege to Jerusalem at the beginning of the days of Yohanan Hyrcanus (son of Simon), advised him to complete what his grand-uncle Antiochus IV had planned. According to them, he found in the Temple a statue of Moses riding a donkey and holding in his hand a book full of misanthropic and xenophobic laws. In order to eliminate the Jews’ shocking hatred of humanity, Antiochus sacrificed a sow on the altar, and took care to pour its blood on the altar, on the sacred writings of the Jews, and on the menorah that the Jews call “perpetual.”
According to Diodorus’ description, Antiochus sought to strike not only at the altar and the sacred writings, but also to profane the “perpetual menorah,” which symbolizes the “Eternity of Israel,” the perpetual lamp of the people of Israel, which never ceases to shine upon the world and teach it the faith of the Torah and its values.
Lighting the Hanukkah candle at the entrance of every Jewish home therefore makes clear to Antiochus and all who continue in his path that “we are here to stay”—forever.
Regards, Amioz Yaron Schnitzler
To the comment “In the Street or at the Entrance to the House?”, paragraph 1, line 2
… as the poet (Levin Kipnis) said: “Come, let us raise banner and torch, …
Lev’s and David’s comments are correct and in place. The commandment is to light a candle in the home (“a man and his household”), each person for himself, to remind himself and his family of the miracle—similar to all the other commandments. The requirement to light the candles outside the home was established later, for circumstantial reasons. Lighting many candles inside homes was, and still is, a major fire hazard that caused much damage, and therefore they enacted that they be lit outside the house. (With Shabbat candles such a risk exists, but less so.) Only later was this requirement given the rationale of “pirsumei nisa.” (Similar to the custom of breaking the glass under the wedding canopy, which received the later meaning of “in memory of the destruction.”)
Therefore, regarding the topic under discussion: the commandment is to light Hanukkah candles at home. As for the matter of “pirsumei nisa”: any means that can enhance the publicity is worthy. It has already been noted that nowadays, in the public sphere, one cannot ignore Hanukkah (unlike even other holidays!), even if because of the sufganiyot… Could it be that perhaps there is no need for publicity?
What should someone who fulfills the commandment of lighting the candles in his home do for “pirsumei nisa”? Since I am not a halakhic decisor: anything that explains to his family, his community, or the public at large (even on the internet!) the meaning of the holiday, all for the sake of the commandment.
Happy Hanukkah to everyone
1. In the swimsuit parable there are many additional possibilities. Can one decide that it is permitted to employ both “plain-sense” and “midrashic” conservatism together? That is—one may continue preserving the tradition of swimsuits (through rejecting “עברינית conservatism”), but on the other hand one may dress according to the weather—as in the example of Hanukkah candles, one may light candles or use an alternative; alternatively, the swimsuits do not preclude clothing suited to the weather that will be worn in addition to the swimsuits—one is obligated to light candles as required, and in addition one may voluntarily do anything else; alternatively, the swimsuits will be preserved for traditional events, while in non-ceremonial events one may change (cf. the tradition of the Scottish kilt, or the kippah in the synagogue)—Hanukkah candles will be lit properly in the window, and additional candles at events and in town squares.
2. If the minyan takes place in a virtual place, how far do you take that? Does someone changing a baby’s diaper invalidate the prayer of all those praying in the minyan? Does a sleeping person count for saying matters of sanctity (as in a physical minyan)? And what if there are others in the place where he is, and they are connected while he is asleep? Does a person connected to Zoom in three or four minyanim count for all of them? Combine all of them? Even if we find or invent answers to all the questions, it may be that this teaches us about the differences and thereby undermines the comparison.
It is very difficult in my opinion—almost impossible—to succeed in fully translating ritual and religious obligations into a different reality. On the other hand, in a conservative reality, when I light Hanukkah candles, I connect to the reality in which this is how they lit them (and in a certain sense, Hazal did not say that someone who lives in an isolated house should not light Hanukkah candles because there are no people to see). So the untranslated reality is easy to carry out, even if it loses some of its effect—parts of which are not even known to us—whereas the translated reality will not be suitable unless we know that all the essential parts have been correctly and fully translated and not lost in translation.
Admittedly, it is true that things were apparently lost in translation over the generations—but there we are talking about halakhic decisors who did this מתוך conservative awareness and sometimes did not understand the original context in which things were said, and we got stuck with their understanding; but to do this intentionally is an entirely different story.
1. The swimsuit example has already been discussed by me in several places. Here it was brought briefly, only what is relevant to us. The possibilities you raised are not relevant, because the example was meant to clarify a point. Therefore, for purposes of the discussion, I assumed that the tradition requires only swimsuits.
2. Each question on its own merits. For a full Shulchan Arukh to be written on the matter, this requires clarification and halakhic discussion over time.
Obviously, a person who lives in an isolated house will light for himself, because that is the optimal fulfillment for him. Moreover, even if the fulfillment is not optimal, it may still be that he has discharged his obligation. Our question concerns a person who is open to Facebook and to the street—what is preferable (and in any case he will have discharged his obligation).
And the best thing is that he should light outside at the entrance to his house, film the lighting, and upload it as a ‘status’ to ‘Facebook,’ and all the people will answer after him: LIKE 🙂
Regards, Samson (Steve) Zuckerberg Halevi
What must be asked about lighting on Facebook:
Since one receives a LIKE—it requires clarification, for הרי it is forbidden to use its light, and perhaps receiving the ‘like’ is considered the forbidden benefit?
And in my humble opinion the solution is that instead of a ‘like’ he should receive a ‘lavv,’ which can imply both the positive LOVE and the negative ‘lav’—and thus he does not derive benefit from the ‘lavv’ responses 🙂
Regards, Samson Zuk’rberg-Lovinger
On the Wikipedia disambiguation page for the term “space” I found at least three different meanings. It seems the writer of the post is not clear about which space she wants to refer to. In light of things you have written in the past (here and on the blog) on internet-related topics, it seems that this is true for you as well.
With God’s help, seventh candle of Hanukkah 5781
At first glance, it seems that the entire culture that gave rise to Facebook and reality TV is the opposite of the spirit of the Hanukkah candle. The Hanukkah candle is first and foremost the symbol of the “commandment is a lamp and Torah is light,” which illuminate first the inwardness of the Jew and his home, and from there radiate outward.
In contrast to the extroverted culture in which a person draws his worth from “how the environment relates to me”—a person’s value is measured by the number of ‘likes’ he receives from his environment, without which he is worthless—the Hasmoneans stubbornly insisted on preserving the Jewish character, without regard for a hostile environment that saw them as “primitive fanatics whose time has passed.”
The Hanukkah candles remind us of the opposite of the culture of Facebook and the internet. We will light our candle in the real home, not in the ‘virtual home.’ We first build our inwardness; for eight days we all become priests lighting the pure menorah in our personal sanctuary—and the more our inwardness shines, the more its light radiates outward.
With blessings for an illuminating Hanukkah, Yaron Fish”l Korinaldi
There is no doubt that this is a challenging interpretation.
The point is that Hazal built the commandment according to the concepts they knew. It may be that there were things that were self-evident to them, but they did not mention them because there was then no other possibility. For example, perhaps in their view publicity was done only through the experience of physical candles, but at the time there was nothing else, so there was no need to say it.
Your interpretation contains the assumption that Hazal’s concepts are almost Platonic, and that their form is determined by time and place. Indeed, in many respects we assume this in a large part of our Gemara study. But it is not at all certain that this is the case. It may be that Hazal had before their eyes a picture of a bustling place where people see Hanukkah menorahs from every direction, and not a person in his house seeing a Hanukkah menorah in a friend’s story. And even if there is no such marketplace today, then one fulfills it in the optimal way as you wrote (“he places it on his table, and that is sufficient”).
Somewhat apocalyptic.