For the sake of heaven

Please indulge me, in the final moments of Hanukkah, to squeeze in just a bit more Hanukkah torah. 

There is a very practical disagreement about Hanukkah to which I am very endeared. What makes more sense: Lighting one candle on the first night of Hanukkah and then adding a candle each night until there are 8? Or lighting 8 candles on the first night and then taking away one candle each night until there is only 1 left?

Well on the one hand, it is spiritually satisfying for the candles to increase corresponding to the magnitude of the miracle that the oil lasted. But on the other hand, the amount of oil functionally decreased with each passing night until there was none left. 

This very debate is recorded in Masechet Shabbat of the Babylonian Talmud. There it is understood that Beit HIllel corresponds the number of candles to the outgoing days (the ones we have already observed) while Beit Shammai corresponds the number of candles to the incoming days (the ones we have left). 

The disagreement of Hillel and Shammai is understood as “for the sake of heaven,” which is to say it is generative conflict, which has lasting positive value. For those who are less familiar with the significance of these two houses of thought, check out this very helpful Wikipedia entry. 

Most often in their arguments, both are right and reasonable. And yet almost always, almost everyone, almost everywhere follows the practice of Beit Hillel. Which has led my rebellious spirit to naturally align myself with Beit Shammai. It feels a bit like rooting for the underdog. 

But recently my teacher called me on it. We were having an argument and she said, stop being shammai for a moment and try being Hillel. Her words pierced and challenged me in an important way. For years I have not appreciated the difference between them had less to do with the legal reasoning and more to do with how they communicate their beliefs. 
In Masechet Eruvin, the Talmud makes clear that both houses were teaching divinely ordained truths. But there were some important differences. Namely that Beit Hillel was kind and gracious, and taught Beit Shammai alongside their own ideas, often teaching them first. 
So in that spirit, my teacher challenged me to articulate and advocate for her idea before my own as a way to show that I really heard and respected her. To be totally honest, I couldn’t do it. And that hurt us both. 
It is hard for me to be kind and gracious when I feel activated and defensive, and especially so when I feel I am right. So this Hanukkah I have returned to the words of Yehudah Amichai, 

“From the place where we are right
Flowers will never grow
In the spring.
 
The place where we are right
Is hard and trampled
Like a yard…”

As a person who loves flowers, this is motivating. But wait, there is more…

Menachem Fisch explains, “The Hillelite position is endorsed, the Talmud explains, because, unlike the Shammaites, they were נוחין which means flexible, as opposed to dogmatic – i. e. wary of being wrong and willing to change their mind. But that is not enough. The Hillelites knowingly coupled their flexibility, with עלובין, a willingness to be proven wrong by others; not only flexible, but open to criticism.”

As this terrible war persists, we are being challenged to have divisive conversations. I am not saying that there are two right sides to this war or any war. But I do think we are called to be in deep relationships with people we may not agree with. I am personally struggling to do so with the grace and compassion our tradition calls us to. I am finding it helpful to enter these conversations with these two guiding values: being willing to change my mind and being open to criticism.

This Hanukkah, I lit all our menorahs in the spirit of Beit Hillel, wIth the hopes that I may learn how to have more generative conflict with the people I love, if not for my own sake, then for the sake of heaven.  

I encourage you to listen to this Jewish Currents episode “Talking to your family” as it ”explores questions of when it is our obligation to keep arguing, and when it’s better to take a break—or give up completely. And what this moment says about the future of Jewish American institutional life.”