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