Shabbos Table

While walking home from taking my son to school, I heard a song I used to sing when I was a wee little Christian girl. The lyrics that played and still play in my head as I write this is – “this little light of mine, I’m going to let it shine.”

Today is Diwali in the Hindu religion. I grew up knowing that tonight would be the darkest night in all the lands. In my culture, those celebrating would light little oil lamps and place them throughout the house and surroundings. The little oil lamps remind us of that little light within us that is meant to shine into a dark world. 

In the Chinese philosophy and religion of yin and yang we know that yang is the masculine energy of light. We have a choice in that bit of light to snuff out the darkness that can sometimes consume us.  

Eid al-Fitr, in the Muslim holiday is celebrated with light after a month of sacrifice and fasting, considered discomfort. Yet, no Muslim I know ever complained about this discomfort because they saw the benefits of controlling their emotions to shine their light in their strength.

In Judaism, we light the menorah during Hanukkah to remind us of the dark days when the 2nd temple was destroyed. It was also a time when we fought against each other, which allowed the darkness to seep into our hearts and destroy our most sacred place – the place where we communed with G-d. We lost it because the darkness took over. The Hanukkah menorah reminds us of why we need to shine our light. 

And the Buddha said that we need the light from within to remove ignorance. Buddha meant that we had to kindle our light through realization. In that realization, we remove the darkness that keeps us attached to everything that brings discomfort.

We all celebrate light in some way or another, and it’s a reminder that in our darkest moments, we can find that little flicker within us to spark something peaceful, content, and still within us.

Every time I think of Diwali in Guyana, where I was born, I remember the steel wool we would wrap around a thin wire. We would then light it and swing it over our heads. The steel wool would break into tiny pieces, flying in all directions. It was the prettiest thing, but if one of those tiny lights dropped on you, your skin would feel the power of that light as it sizzled into your skin. I would know because I was a young recipient of one of those sparks. 

While the burn is etched in my memories, it’s not the whole story I remember. I remember my mom, who was a Christian from a Muslim background, making all the sweets every Hindu made to celebrate their holiday. Mom would then carefully package a little of all she made and send it out to share with our neighbors. They would do the same, and at the end of the day, everyone would be stuffed with all the sweets shared by the village. 

It wasn’t our holiday to celebrate. We didn’t believe in God as our neighbors did, but we believed in the light that came from our love and respect for each other. It was the light we were celebrating.  

So, on this Diwali, whether we are Hindus or not, let’s come together and remember that we have a choice in fanning the flame within our hearts so that our light can snuff out the darkness of hatred, anger, covetousness, jealousy, vindictiveness, grudge, and selfishness that consume us.

Let’s allow that light to blossom and shine so that we may love each other without expecting anything in return. 

And if we are wary because we sense darkness in someone else, I bet your light will heal them and allow them to shine bright too. 

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