December 18, 2025 • 8 mins
Rabbi Pam Silk begins with a childhood memory of being told to “turn off the lights,” then turns to Parashat Baha’alotecha to explore the menorah, the divine cloud, and the fire that guided our ancestors through the wilderness. She reflects on how intentional light — both physical and spiritual — can orient us when we feel stuck under “cloud cover,” craving certainty yet unsure where to go next. This uplifting sermon calls listeners to keep kindling their inner lamps, to share their brightness with others, and to trust that God’s guiding fire will eventually illuminate the path ahead.
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Episode Transcript
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(00:01):
So it never really made sense to me.
She got so upset about what at the time seemed like such a
small and unimportant thing.
I can still hear my mother's voice telling us to go turn
off the lights and refusing to leave the house until all
(00:22):
the lights were off.
Even if we were in the car all the way down the driveway
and she saw a light left on in the house,
she'd send one of us to go back in the house and turn it
off.
The lesson was clear.
We don't waste electricity.
And for many years, I admit to you,
I felt like she was being ridiculous, even extreme.
(00:46):
I'd roll my eyes and go do what she asked and then stomp my
way back in protest.
That was, of course, until I became a homeowner,
responsible for my own lights and paying the electric bill.
And wouldn't you know, as if it's an inherited trait,
now I am the one bellowing, turn off those lights,
(01:08):
or stomping my way through the house,
flicking light switches off and shaking my head in
frustration.
This memory came to mind this week as I read the Torah
portion, Baha'lotacha.
The portion opens saying, God spoke to Moses saying,
speak to Aaron and say to him, when you light the lamps,
light the seven lamps,
(01:30):
giving light to the front of the lampstand.
The portion begins with instructions for kindling the
menorah and the Mishkan,
emphasizing the importance of light,
not just as a physical presence,
but a symbol of divine wisdom and human responsibility.
The menorah represents the balance between receiving and
(01:53):
radiating light.
The Torah tells us that the lamps should shine towards the
face of the menorah,
suggesting that light must be directed with purpose.
The light is not just kindled singularly,
but intended to be radiating light towards a common place,
representing both personal and communal illumination.
(02:17):
The menorah teaches us that light must be cultivated with
care, allowing it to rise and illuminate beyond ourselves.
We are not meant to have brightness just individually.
Both personally and collectively,
sharing and ensuing our light reaches others in an
intentional and meaningful way.
(02:38):
Our ancient text is crystal clear.
We are commanded not merely to ignite a spark.
The verse insists we position our lamps toward the face of
the menorah, directing light with intention.
The menorah's radiance isn't passive.
It's an act of focused illumination.
A beautiful commentary suggests that the seven branches of
(03:00):
the menorah mirror the seven days of creation,
each day a gift,
the seventh referred to as a summit of sanctity.
In visualizing the seven branches,
the commentator suggests that the first three lights
represent the days of preparation,
like the three stems leading to Shabbat.
(03:22):
Our workdays are dedicated to building character,
learning Torah, and establishing important community ties.
The central lamp standing straight up represents Shabbat,
the moment when we pause, acknowledge enoughness,
and draw down rest and renewal.
(03:43):
The last three branches with their flames pointed back
towards the center represent the post-Shabbat days,
glowing with fresh insight,
fueled by the sanctity we've absorbed.
This cyclical pattern invites us to view the lights in time
not as a frantic progression, but as a sacred spiral.
(04:04):
We labor, we rest, we transform.
In this week's Torah portion, Baha'lotacha,
we encounter two symbols of light.
Not only the golden menorah,
but also the divine cloud by day and fire by night guiding
Israel through the desert.
Verse 9, Numbers 9, verse 17 may be familiar to you.
(04:29):
Whenever the cloud lifted from above the tent,
the Israelites would set out.
But if the cloud did not lift,
they did not set out until it lifted.
The imagery speaks to the tension between clarity and
uncertainty.
Sometimes we walk in full light,
and other times we must trust the flickering glow of faith.
(04:51):
It reminds us that journey and struggle are not new,
and that our ancestors grappled with the universal question
of how to navigate moments of doubt.
How do we kindle our inner menorah when the path ahead
feels obscure?
It is my experience and degrowth edge for sure that in
(05:12):
moments of uncertainty, we often try to force clarity.
It's reassuring and poignant that the Israelites did not
move on their schedule.
They followed the divine cloud by day and fire at night,
sometimes staying in places for long periods and sometimes
moving unexpectedly.
(05:34):
Our ancestors show us that sometimes the greatest act of
faith is to wait,
trusting that the same presence that kindled their path
will guide ours.
We often crave certainty,
wanting to know exactly when and where we should go,
but Bahalo Techa reminds us that sometimes we must wait.
(05:58):
Other times we move forward even when the path is unclear.
Light, of course, is more than illumination.
It is movement, transformation, and trust.
In Parshat Bahalo Techa, the two powerful images of light,
the menorah and the guiding divine fire,
remind us that light is not static.
(06:20):
It calls us forward, urging us to grow, adapt, pause,
and trust the journey.
Friends,
I imagine for many of you that it feels like we are stuck
in cloud cover.
And that it's very hard to see the light.
And that it's really hard to know what to do or where to
go.
(06:41):
It's easy to feel disillusioned, frustrated, scared,
and confused.
But our tradition is clear.
We must continue to kindle the lights.
We must continue to share our light and lean towards other
lights.
We are all bearers of light charged with adding brightness
(07:01):
to the world around us and at the same time seeking the
path illuminated by God's divine fire.
Baha'lotacha models a sacred partnership.
We ignite inner lamps, cultivating wisdom, kindness,
and courage while simultaneously leaning and learning to
follow the divine fire that beckons us onward.
(07:23):
When our personal illumination aligns with God's guidance,
our light not only sustains us,
but charts the way for others and adds brightness and hope
to all the world.
Ken yehi ratzon.
May this be God's will, as we say.
Amen.
So it never really made sense to me.
She got so upset about what at the time seemed like such a
small and unimportant thing.
I can still hear my mother's voice telling us to go turn
off the lights and refusing to leave the house until all
(00:22):
the lights were off.
Even if we were in the car all the way down the driveway
and she saw a light left on in the house,
she'd send one of us to go back in the house and turn it
off.
The lesson was clear.
We don't waste electricity.
And for many years, I admit to you,
I felt like she was being ridiculous, even extreme.
(00:46):
I'd roll my eyes and go do what she asked and then stomp my
way back in protest.
That was, of course, until I became a homeowner,
responsible for my own lights and paying the electric bill.
And wouldn't you know, as if it's an inherited trait,
now I am the one bellowing, turn off those lights,
(01:08):
or stomping my way through the house,
flicking light switches off and shaking my head in
frustration.
This memory came to mind this week as I read the Torah
portion, Baha'lotacha.
The portion opens saying, God spoke to Moses saying,
speak to Aaron and say to him, when you light the lamps,
light the seven lamps,
(01:30):
giving light to the front of the lampstand.
The portion begins with instructions for kindling the
menorah and the Mishkan,
emphasizing the importance of light,
not just as a physical presence,
but a symbol of divine wisdom and human responsibility.
The menorah represents the balance between receiving and
(01:53):
radiating light.
The Torah tells us that the lamps should shine towards the
face of the menorah,
suggesting that light must be directed with purpose.
The light is not just kindled singularly,
but intended to be radiating light towards a common place,
representing both personal and communal illumination.
(02:17):
The menorah teaches us that light must be cultivated with
care, allowing it to rise and illuminate beyond ourselves.
We are not meant to have brightness just individually.
Both personally and collectively,
sharing and ensuing our light reaches others in an
intentional and meaningful way.
(02:38):
Our ancient text is crystal clear.
We are commanded not merely to ignite a spark.
The verse insists we position our lamps toward the face of
the menorah, directing light with intention.
The menorah's radiance isn't passive.
It's an act of focused illumination.
A beautiful commentary suggests that the seven branches of
(03:00):
the menorah mirror the seven days of creation,
each day a gift,
the seventh referred to as a summit of sanctity.
In visualizing the seven branches,
the commentator suggests that the first three lights
represent the days of preparation,
like the three stems leading to Shabbat.
(03:22):
Our workdays are dedicated to building character,
learning Torah, and establishing important community ties.
The central lamp standing straight up represents Shabbat,
the moment when we pause, acknowledge enoughness,
and draw down rest and renewal.
(03:43):
The last three branches with their flames pointed back
towards the center represent the post-Shabbat days,
glowing with fresh insight,
fueled by the sanctity we've absorbed.
This cyclical pattern invites us to view the lights in time
not as a frantic progression, but as a sacred spiral.
(04:04):
We labor, we rest, we transform.
In this week's Torah portion, Baha'lotacha,
we encounter two symbols of light.
Not only the golden menorah,
but also the divine cloud by day and fire by night guiding
Israel through the desert.
Verse 9, Numbers 9, verse 17 may be familiar to you.
(04:29):
Whenever the cloud lifted from above the tent,
the Israelites would set out.
But if the cloud did not lift,
they did not set out until it lifted.
The imagery speaks to the tension between clarity and
uncertainty.
Sometimes we walk in full light,
and other times we must trust the flickering glow of faith.
(04:51):
It reminds us that journey and struggle are not new,
and that our ancestors grappled with the universal question
of how to navigate moments of doubt.
How do we kindle our inner menorah when the path ahead
feels obscure?
It is my experience and degrowth edge for sure that in
(05:12):
moments of uncertainty, we often try to force clarity.
It's reassuring and poignant that the Israelites did not
move on their schedule.
They followed the divine cloud by day and fire at night,
sometimes staying in places for long periods and sometimes
moving unexpectedly.
(05:34):
Our ancestors show us that sometimes the greatest act of
faith is to wait,
trusting that the same presence that kindled their path
will guide ours.
We often crave certainty,
wanting to know exactly when and where we should go,
but Bahalo Techa reminds us that sometimes we must wait.
(05:58):
Other times we move forward even when the path is unclear.
Light, of course, is more than illumination.
It is movement, transformation, and trust.
In Parshat Bahalo Techa, the two powerful images of light,
the menorah and the guiding divine fire,
remind us that light is not static.
(06:20):
It calls us forward, urging us to grow, adapt, pause,
and trust the journey.
Friends,
I imagine for many of you that it feels like we are stuck
in cloud cover.
And that it's very hard to see the light.
And that it's really hard to know what to do or where to
go.
(06:41):
It's easy to feel disillusioned, frustrated, scared,
and confused.
But our tradition is clear.
We must continue to kindle the lights.
We must continue to share our light and lean towards other
lights.
We are all bearers of light charged with adding brightness
(07:01):
to the world around us and at the same time seeking the
path illuminated by God's divine fire.
Baha'lotacha models a sacred partnership.
We ignite inner lamps, cultivating wisdom, kindness,
and courage while simultaneously leaning and learning to
follow the divine fire that beckons us onward.
(07:23):
When our personal illumination aligns with God's guidance,
our light not only sustains us,
but charts the way for others and adds brightness and hope
to all the world.
Ken yehi ratzon.
May this be God's will, as we say.
Amen.
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