I recently had the profound privilege of standing on stage with Elkana Bohbot, one of the last hostages freed after 738 horrific days in Gaza’s dark tunnels. He shared his experience — the total darkness, the deprivation, the cruelty, and the unbearable separation from his wife, his child, and his people. He told us that the only thing the captors could not take from him was his faith — his bitachon, his trust in Hashem. And then he described something that took my breath away: last Chanukah, deep in the tunnels, he longed to light the menorah, but had no way to do so. Instead, he took the small flashlight the terrorists gave them for basic needs, and on the first night, he shone it on one finger — his first candle. The second night, two fingers. Then three. Then four. Until on the eighth night, he lit all eight “flames” with the only light he had.
Hearing him speak, I felt the message burn into me: this is the essence of Chanukah. Even in the blackest darkness, even when every comfort, every freedom, every certainty is stripped away, the human soul can still ignite light. Standing with Elkana, seeing him alive and free, I was reminded that hope is not a luxury — it is a lifeline.
The flames of Chanukah whisper the same truth: never give up. Light will always return. And this year, as we kindle our menorahs with ease and abundance, may we remember the brilliance of one man’s improvised light in the depths of Gaza, and let it inspire us to kindle our own flames with renewed courage and faith. Happy Chanukah!
