Inner light defies brightness or darkness outside

There’s something almost humorous about lighting tiny flames in the middle of a South African summer. While much of the world is wrapped in scarves and experiencing “winter darkness”, we’re heading to the beach, easing into slower days, and shifting our thoughts toward the year ahead. 

Perhaps this contrast explains why Chanukah can resonate so deeply here. Its message isn’t about external darkness at all. It speaks to the places inside us that grow tired or unclear, even on the brightest, warmest days of December. 

Most of us can relate to having a year that felt heavier or more challenging than expected – months that drained more than they gave, and moments that left us feeling muted or disconnected from our own inner voice. Chanukah comes to remind us that inner light never disappears. It may flicker. It may hide. It may be buried under responsibility, pressure, and the noise of daily life. But it’s always there. 

We know the story well: the Maccabees, a small group of warriors who had endured a long, gruelling battle, were finally victorious. They found the holy Beit Hamikdash desecrated, and themselves bruised, exhausted, and overwhelmed by the task of restoring their spiritual home. They searched and found only one small jar of pure oil – barely enough for a single night. Think of it as discovering your phone on 3% battery with an eight-day journey ahead. They lit it anyway. 

Perhaps the real miracle wasn’t only that the oil lasted for eight days, but that they believed it was worth lighting at all. 

This year, as we reach the end of a long, unpredictable, emotionally cluttered stretch, that message feels acutely relevant. Many of us are entering the December break with deep exhale energy – relieved to stop moving, but feeling the aches and frayed edges of a year that demanded so much. Chanukah whispers: you don’t need a full tank to shine. You just need the courage to start with whatever you have left. 

The world often rewards the loudest voices, the boldest statements, the most polished exteriors. Chanukah teaches the opposite. The miracle began with something small, hidden, fragile, quiet. So does our inner growth. 

Our inner light is tied to the honest voice within us, not the one we use to manage meetings, families, and deadlines, but the one that speaks softly and truthfully: “Pause. Try this. Let go. Begin again.” That voice rarely shouts. It flickers like a flame – subtle, steady, wise. And when we follow it, even imperfectly, we reconnect with who we really are. 

Chanukah is a celebration of imperfect action. The Maccabees acted with uncertainty, exhaustion, and no guarantees. They didn’t wait for the perfect conditions; they created conditions for miracles by stepping forward anyway. 

Our lives work the same way. The next right step doesn’t require clarity, confidence, or a five-year plan. It requires sincerity and the willingness to act on the little light we already have. 

I was inspired by the story of Bar Kupershtein, an Israeli survivor and hero held captive in the darkness of the Gaza tunnels for 738 days. 

Even in the suffocating darkness of captivity, Bar found light by anchoring himself to his values. Though starved and subjected to unimaginable conditions, he remained alert and purposeful, focusing on small acts to help his fellow hostages – fixing electricity, digging waste pits, creating tiny spaces of comfort. 

But what sustained him most was a spiritual connection. He trained his mind to detach from the immediate physical pain, and constantly recited the prayers and chapters of tehillim he knew by heart. He held onto the promise that light can be found even in the deepest, most concealed place. 

Kupershtein’s story is a modern reflection of Chanukah’s timeless lesson: even the smallest, quietest light has the power to endure, sustain, and inspire. He didn’t wait for perfect freedom; he chose to act with the tiny spark of faith and purpose he possessed. This enabled him to break free from the darkness. 

As the year winds down and we settle into summer, the Chanukah candles remind us of something simple and profound: you aren’t empty. You aren’t without light. Hashem placed something inside you that’s designed to illuminate your home, your family, your community, and your world. That light doesn’t need to be loud, dramatic, or perfect. It only needs to be real. 

Every act of courage, every small kindness, and every commitment to your values in difficult circumstances is a way of placing your menorah in the world. Let the flame inside you – steady, quiet, undeniable – shine in whatever way it can. 

Because one spark can ignite hope; one flame can break darkness; and one honest moment of courage can open the door to miracles. 

• Estee Stern is the rebbetzin of Sydenham Shul and a practicing life coach.