Rabbi Russell Jayne: Bringing our light into the world, one candle at a time

by Rabbi Russell Jayne

(Calgary) – As we prepare to enter Hanukkah, I find myself returning to a detail in the familiar story of the Maccabees that we often rush past. We speak of the miracle of the oil that burned far longer than it should have, of a rededicated Temple glowing once again with sacred light. But before any of that happened, before the miracle unfolded, something much more quiet took place. Something without which there could have been no miracle at all.

A single flame was lit.

In a sanctuary still scarred by war, surrounded by debris and uncertainty, with no assurance that there would be enough oil for the days ahead, our ancestors chose to act anyway. They didn’t wait for conditions to be perfect. They didn’t wait to feel ready. They didn’t wait for the world to give them a sign. They simply lit one small flame, trusting that this first step mattered.

That is what Hanukkah is, at its heart, a festival of small courage.
A celebration not of grand victories, but of modest acts of faith that become the foundation for something far greater.

Most of us aren’t fighting ancient armies or purifying desecrated Temples. But we know what it means to walk through uncertainty. We know what it feels like when the world seems dimmer than we wish it did, when our reserves feel low, when the days seem shorter in more ways than one.

And yet, like our ancestors, we keep lighting that next candle.

Every time we choose kindness when it would be easier to retreat, every time we extend a hand despite feeling weary, every time we create connection in a world that too often drifts toward isolation we are performing our own Hanukkah miracles. They may not feel dramatic, but they shine just as brightly.

In every Jewish community across our province, these quiet acts take place every single day:

A volunteer who steps forward even when no one sees, simply because it is the right thing to do.

A member who calls someone who has been absent, asking sincerely, “Are you okay? We’ve missed you.”

A family who chooses hope over fear by showing up, participating, and bringing life into Jewish spaces.

A person who offers kindness even when their own heart feels heavy.

These are our “one-day-of-oil moments.” They are small, but they matter more than we know. They remind us that while the world often celebrates spectacle, Judaism has always honoured the sacred power of the Kol D’mamah Dakah (the still, small voice).

This year, Hanukkah arrives at a time when many people are carrying quiet burdens, visible and invisible. Some are worried about global crises. Some feel the weight of rising antisemitism. Some are navigating illnesses, family stresses, or private griefs. Others are simply tired, tired in the way that only modern life, with its relentless speed and expectation, can make us.

Hanukkah doesn’t ask us to solve these challenges all at once. It asks only that we take a small step toward light.

Our tradition teaches that when the Maccabees searched the Temple, they found just one cruse of pure oil, barely enough for a single day. But what is equally important is that they didn’t dismiss that tiny reserve as insufficient. They didn’t say, “It’s not enough, so why bother?” Instead, they honoured what they had.

That, too, is a profound spiritual message.

The world does not need us to be perfect. It needs us to be willing. One flame at a time. One act of compassion at a time. One conversation, one prayer, one gesture of generosity.

The story of Hanukkah reminds us that hope doesn’t begin with certainty. It begins with the courage to try. Courage rarely feels like bravery in the moment. Most often, it feels small, like the decision to strike a match, not knowing what might come next.

But Jewish history is built on these moments. On people who stepped forward when they weren’t sure, who brought light into imperfect circumstances, who trusted that doing something, however small, mattered deeply.

This is how we rebuild our communities.
This is how we strengthen the bonds between us.
This is how we honour the generations before us and sustain the generations to come.

As our menorahs glow across Alberta, in private homes, in synagogues, in schools, in care facilities, in public celebrations, I hope we will remember that each light is a testament to someone’s courage, past or present, ancient or modern, grand or humble.

May we have the courage to bring our light into the world, one candle at a time.

Chag Urim Sameach! May your Festival of Lights be filled with warmth, resilience, community, and gentle miracles.

Rabbi Russell Jayne is Senior Rabbi and Cantor at Beth Tzedec Congregation in Calgary.