Light From Within Darkness

By Yochanan Gordon

“The advantage of wisdom over folly is like the advantage of light from within darkness.” — Koheles

Many newspapers operate with editorial calendars—topics laid out weeks or months in advance. There is certainly value in planning, researching properly, and charting a course ahead of time.

But for me, there’s something disingenuous about that. The whole purpose of this column has always been to bring you into my world—to invite you into my thoughts and lived experience as they unfold. If I pre-ordained my topic each week, I wouldn’t be sharing my heart and mind with you in real time.

My process is to allow inspiration to come organically, not by chasing ideas, but by remaining attentive to life: at home, in shul, at work, and everywhere in between.

This approach reminds me of the machlokes between Hillel and Shammai regarding preparing for Shabbos. Shammai would shop on Sunday, set aside the best for Shabbos, and if he later found something better, he would eat the earlier item and reserve the new one for Shabbos. In that way, he lived his entire week for Shabbos.

Hillel took the opposite approach, living with the faith that by Friday, Hashem would provide the choicest delicacies for Shabbos. Shammai’s Shabbos was decided early. Hillel needed patience—confidence that the right gifts would appear at the right time.

What does this have to do with writing? And with light and darkness?

Beyond the fact that many people read this column on Shabbos, with the headspace to absorb and reflect, our hope is always to contribute to the fuller Shabbos experience, helping illuminate that sacred time that hints at the ultimate era of eternal Shabbos.

There is another dimension as well. The pasuk regarding Shabbos states, “See Hashem has given you the Shabbos. Therefore, on the sixth day He gives you bread for two days. Let every man remain in his place. Do not go out on the seventh day.” (Sh’mos 16:29)

This refers to the manna and is the source for techum Shabbos—the boundary one must not cross. But spiritually, it suggests a call to stay present. To remain rooted. To allow inspiration to emerge from within rather than running outward in search of it.

The Baal Shem Tov taught that we shutter our windows on Shabbos so the holy light remains inside the home. Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch once considered banning shul attendance for a century, observing that shuls had grown beautiful while Jewish homes were growing spiritually impoverished. The message is clear: we must become illuminated people capable of illuminating our homes, and only then, the world.

There is a perplexing Midrash on the creation of light. The Yalkut compares darkness to the deeds of the wicked and light to those of the righteous. Hashem says, as it were, “I do not know which I desire more—the deeds of the wicked or of the righteous” until the verse concludes, “And there was light,” revealing His preference.

How could G-d ever hesitate between good and evil?

I am writing this on Yud-Tes Kislev, the day the Alter Rebbe of Chabad was freed from 53 days of imprisonment, marking a historic revelation of inner light emerging from profound darkness. On the title page of Tanya, he writes that its purpose is to show how “the matter is very near to you… in a long-short way.”

That paradox—a long-short way—is echoed in the Gemara (Eruvin 53b):

Rebbi Yehoshua ben Chananya once came to a fork in the road and asked a young boy which path led to the city.

The child replied, “This road is short but long. The other is long but short.”

Rebbi Yehoshua took the short-long road and quickly reached the outskirts but found himself blocked by fields and fences. He had arrived fast, but entrance was far. Returning, he praised the boy’s wisdom and followed the long-short road, which led him straight into the city.

There are lights that appear quickly, gifted from above, but fade just as fast. And there is a deeper light that takes longer to kindle because it must rise from within the darkness.

Rashi in Tazria writes, “If the man (ish) emits seed first, a girl is born. If the woman (isha) emits seed first, a boy is born.”

In Chassidic interpretation, ish represents Hashem and isha the Jewish people.

A “boy” symbolizes lasting permanence; a “girl,” temporary revelation. If light begins from below, it endures. If it descends unearned from Above, it does not.

This is the distinction between Shabbos and Chanukah. Shabbos light stays indoors nurturing inner holiness. Chanukah light is meant to illuminate the outside darkness: al pesach beiso mi’bachutz.

Yet the Gemara adds: b’shaas ha’sakanah— leave it on the table inside.

What is this “danger” if not physical persecution?

It is the spiritual danger of trying to illuminate the world without first possessing internal light. Even the infinite radiance of Chanukah needs a partnership with the steady flame inside the home.

We each carry places of darkness. They are not a flaw; they are the purpose. Creation itself began with darkness so that light could emerge from within it.

Only that kind of light can reveal Hashem’s deepest desire.

The world will not be redeemed by light alone, but by darkness transformed into light—slowly, honestly, from within.

May the long-short path lead us directly into the city of redemption with the coming of Moshiach now. n

Yochanan Gordon can be reached at [email protected]. Read more of Yochanan’s articles at 5TJT.com.