Even the ancient Israelites felt that way, yearning for guidance, for illumination. As they cried out, “Send Your light and Your truth; they will guide me” (Psalms 43:3), they were tapping into a profound idea about the nature of light itself.
But what is this light? Bamidbar Rabbah, a fascinating collection of rabbinic teachings and interpretations on the Book of Numbers, delves into this very question. It tells us that the light of the Holy One, blessed be He, is… well, it’s kind of a big deal.
We often think of the sun and moon as the primary sources of light. But according to Bamidbar Rabbah, they're actually drawing their illumination from something far more immense: sparks of a supernal light. Imagine the sun and moon not as self-sufficient beacons, but as reflectors, catching glimpses of a divine radiance. This idea is hinted at in the verse, “By the light of Your arrows they will go, by the glow of the flash of Your spear” (Habakkuk 3:11).
Now, how powerful is this supernal light, this original source? The text tells us that humanity has only been given a tiny fraction of it – just one one-hundredth! As it says, "He knows what [ma] is in the darkness" (Daniel 2:22). Here, the word "ma" is cleverly interpreted as "mea," meaning one hundred. Think about that: everything we see, all the light we experience, is just a sliver of the true, unimaginable brilliance.
And why create the sun and moon in the first place? Because, the text explains, God crafted them "so they will illuminate before you," as it is stated: “God set them in the firmament of the heavens to illuminate” (Genesis 1:17). They are gifts, designed to guide us, to show us the way.
The text then shifts its focus to the menorah, the candelabrum in the Temple. “Toward the front of the candelabrum, the seven lamps shall illuminate.” King David adds a layer of meaning, saying, “Life is in the light of the king's countenance” (Proverbs 16:15). Here, light isn't just about physical sight; it's connected to life, to joy, to divine presence.
Rabbi Yaakov ben Rabbi Yosei offers another beautiful idea: that joy is withheld from the wicked but freely given to Israel. It's as if the Holy One, blessed be He, willingly makes Himself present, even among flesh and blood, through the symbol of the lamp. He essentially says, "Toward the front of the candelabrum, [the seven lamps] shall illuminate.” He dwells among us, offering light and guidance.
So what does this all mean for us today? Perhaps it's a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there is a source of light that we can tap into. Maybe it’s a call to look beyond the obvious, to seek the hidden sparks of divinity in the world around us. And maybe, just maybe, it’s an invitation to become lamps ourselves, reflecting that light for others who are searching in the darkness.