That feeling is at the heart of our story today, a tale I call "The Cottage of Candles," retold from Howard Schwartz's Tree of Souls.
Once, there was a Jew driven by an unshakeable desire: to find true justice in the world. He was certain it existed somewhere, but after searching high and low, he'd never found it. So, he embarked on a quest that stretched into years. Town after town, village after village, he tirelessly sought justice, but always came up empty.
Years turned into decades, and the man explored nearly the entire known world. Only one place remained: a vast, dark forest. Without hesitation, he plunged into its depths. He was fearless by now, and he searched everywhere. He ventured into the caves of thieves, only to be met with mocking laughter: "Do you expect to find justice here?" He visited the huts of witches, where they stirred their bubbling brews, but they too scorned him: "Do you expect to find justice here?"
Deeper and deeper he went, until finally, he stumbled upon a small clay hut. Peeking through the window, he saw countless flickering flames. Curiosity piqued, he knocked on the door. No answer. He knocked again. Still nothing. Finally, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The moment he crossed the threshold, the man realized the hut was far larger on the inside than it appeared from the outside. It was filled with hundreds of shelves, and on each shelf sat dozens of oil candles. Some burned in precious holders of gold, silver, or marble, while others were in simple clay or tin. Some holders were overflowing with oil, their flames burning brightly, while others were nearly empty.
Suddenly, an old man with a long white beard, dressed in a white robe, appeared before him. "Shalom aleikhem, my son," he said – peace be unto you. "How can I help you?"
The man replied, "Aleikhem shalom – peace be unto you. I have searched everywhere for justice, but I've never seen anything like this. Tell me, what are all these candles?"
The old man explained, "Each of these candles represents the soul of a person. As long as the candle burns, that person remains alive. But when the candle burns out, that person's soul departs from this world."
The man, understandably intrigued, asked, "Can you show me the candle of my soul?"
"Follow me," the old man replied, leading him through the seemingly endless labyrinth of the cottage. Finally, they reached a low shelf. The old man pointed to a candle in a clay holder and said, "That is the candle of your soul."
The man looked at the candle and felt a wave of fear wash over him. The wick was short, and there was very little oil left. It seemed as if it could extinguish at any moment! He began to tremble. Could his end be so near without him even knowing it?
Then, he noticed the candle next to his. It, too, was in a clay holder, but it was full of oil, its wick long and straight, its flame burning brightly. "And whose candle is that?" the man asked.
"I can only reveal each man's candle to himself alone," the old man said, and turned to leave.
The man stood there, quaking. He heard a sputtering sound and saw smoke rising from another shelf. He knew that somewhere, someone had passed from this world. He looked back at his own candle, noticing only a few drops of oil remained. Then, he looked again at the candle next to his, so full of oil, and a terrible thought entered his mind.
He looked around for the old man, but he was nowhere to be seen. Driven by desperation, he picked up the full candle and lifted it above his own.
Instantly, the old man reappeared, gripping his arm with incredible strength. And the old man asked: "Is this the kind of justice you are seeking?"
The man closed his eyes, overwhelmed by shame and pain. When he opened them, the old man, the cottage, and all the candles had vanished. He found himself alone in the forest, hearing the trees whispering his fate. He wondered, had his candle burned out? Was he, too, no longer among the living?
This story is a powerful one, and it resonates with themes we find throughout Jewish tradition. As Schwartz notes in Tree of Souls, it's a folk example of a divine test. The old man could be seen as an Elijah-like figure, or perhaps one of the Lamed-vav Tzaddikim, the Thirty-Six Hidden Saints who uphold the world, as discussed in "The Thirty-Six Just Men" (Schwartz). Or maybe, he's even the Angel of Death, or God Himself, testing the man's true nature.
Think of the tests in the Bible, like Adam and Eve with the forbidden fruit (Genesis 3), or the Binding of Isaac (Genesis 22), or the trials of Job. This man, driven by the words of Deuteronomy 16:20, "Justice, justice, shall you pursue," is on a quest to fulfill that commandment. But the story challenges us: is he truly just himself?
The Zohar, a central text of Kabbalah, often speaks of the soul as a flame. This imagery connects deeply with the story, and with the custom of lighting yahrzeit candles, memorial candles that burn for 24 hours on the anniversary of a loved one's death. They symbolize the verse from Proverbs 20:27, "The soul of man is the lamp of God."
In seeking justice, the man nearly commits a grave injustice. He fails the test. But the tale leaves us with a question: What is true justice? Is it only something we seek externally, or must we cultivate it within ourselves first? The trees whispering his fate… what do they say? And what does it mean for us? Perhaps the story is a reminder that the pursuit of justice begins with examining the candle of our own soul.