The menorah is one of our most recognizable and powerful Jewish images; it is associated not only with the celebration of Chanukah but appears as the central motif in official Israeli stationary. A large menorah stands proudly outside the Knesset, the Israeli parliament. Its symbolism as a beacon whose light strengthens in intensity over time has been part of Jewish life since the construction of the portable Temple, the Tabernacle - first mentioned in the book of Exodus.

When we review the biblical descriptions of the menorah in Exodus 25 and 37, we notice repeated references to plant life. This observation was studied carefully by Israeli botanist Nogah Hareuveni and his parents in his book Nature in Our Biblical Heritage.

“The menorah, its stem and its branches were of beaten work; its calyxes, its knobs and its flowers were of one piece with it. There were six branches…”

This description was offered so that Betzalel would know what it is God commanded him to make. As the directions in Exodus continue, what emerges is a very symmetrical image that mirrors a tree or plant with various flowers and “knobs” on it. The Talmud identifies these knobs as similar in appearance to “a kind of Cretan apple.” An Israeli linguist contends that calyxes are “understood to be shaped like the fruit of the almond,” the first of Israeli fruit trees to emerge from winter dormancy in Israel.

The structure of the menorah itself is very similar to the Israeli moriah plant or salvia palaestina, an attractive plant with four branches on either side that emerge from a central stem. Lit with olive oil, the menorah in Israel not only marked a military victory, it was a celebration of the natural world of Israel – the moriah, the almond, the olive tree-  at a time when most plants lie dormant. The light offered from this candelabrum in combination with its plant imagery, took the onlooker away from the blight of winter to a warm, sunny, plant-filled place in the imagination.

A fascinating Talmudic story recalls the confusion and sadness that often accompanies the change of season as cold weather approaches;

Said the Sages: When the first man saw the day getting shorter and shorter, he said: ‘Woe is me, because of my sins the world is darkening and returning to chaos, and this death is ordained for me by the heavens!’ He decided to fast and pray for eight days. But since the month of Tevet [January] was at hand, he saw that the days were getting longer and said: ‘This must be the way of the world.’ So he celebrated for eight days…

Naturally, this story could only have happened once, to the first person who experienced the shortening of the day and the early onset of darkness as a heavenly terror designed as a punishment. As the weeks proceed, this first human realizes that life will bring natural cycles of light and darkness and is not a cause for worry but perhaps even a reason to celebrate. The Talmudic sages captured this anxiety in a story that still reflects the onset of winter for many of us today.

Chanukah approaches this year, and every year, as a festival of light that gives us what nature has taken away for a time: long days of light, images of plant life currently dormant, and a reason to celebrate with others who might normally stay in their own homes in the dead of winter. Instead we lengthen the day’s light in front of the menorah; we rejoice over the flowers, branches and stems that this inanimate object offers and we are reminded not only of ancient military miracles but the everyday miracle of changing seasons.

Shabbat Shalom and Happy Chanukah