Hanukkah and Advent
Two Flames, One Mystery
There are moments in the year when time feels thinner—when ancient wisdom draws close enough to be felt in the body. Hanukkah and Advent are such moments. They are not competing traditions, nor parallel stories, but interwoven flames, two expressions of the same eternal mystery:
Light choosing to remain present in the world, even when the world is dark.
We often imagine light arriving once darkness has passed. But these sacred portal teach something far more intimate and demanding: light is born within darkness, sustained through devotion, and tended through love.
Yeshua, Mary Magdalene, Mother Mary, Joseph, and their community were Jewish. This matters, not only historically, but spiritually. The Christ family celebrated Hanukkah. The Gospel of John tells us plainly:
“It was the Feast of Dedication in Jerusalem, and it was winter.” (John 10:22)
The Feast of Dedication is Hanukkah.
Hanukkah emerged from desecration and occupation. The Temple had been violated. Sacred vessels were broken. The altar defiled. And yet, in the ruins, a small cruse of consecrated oil was found, enough for one day, miraculously burning for eight.
Hanukkah teaches us that holiness does not depend on ideal circumstances. It depends on devotion, on choosing to tend the flame even when everything feels fragile. The Christ family knew this reality intimately: political oppression, poverty, exile, danger, and the quiet, daily work of keeping sacred light alive.
Yeshua did not arrive after darkness ended.
He arrived within it.
Advent is often misunderstood as a purely Christian invention, separate from Jewish wisdom. Historically and spiritually, this is not true.
Advent emerged in Spain and Gaul (present-day France) between the 4th and 6th centuries as a season of preparation, marked by fasting, prayer, purification, and deep interior listening. It was shaped by Jewish cycles of waiting and expectation, monastic practice, and a shared understanding that incarnation requires readiness.
Originally, Advent was not about celebration.
It was about making space.
In Iberia, a land steeped in Jewish, Christian, and later Islamic mysticism, Advent became a season of inner gestation. A time when the soul learned how to wait without grasping, to remain faithful without knowing how the promise would arrive.
Advent asks something tender and courageous of us:
Can we stay open when nothing seems to change?
Two Lights, One Teaching
Hanukkah and Advent are not separate messages.
They are two faces of the same initiation.
Hanukkah teaches us that:
- Light can be sustained even when resources are scarce
- Consecration matters more than power
- One small act of faith can outlast empires
Advent teaches us that:
- Light must be prepared for
- The body must become a vessel
- Waiting itself is a sacred act
Together, they reveal a truth that feels especially needed now:
Light does not appear suddenly.
It is tended.
It is protected.
It is given a home.
The menorah burns outward, night by night, multiplying light in the face of darkness.
The Advent candles burn inward, week by week, deepening light within the body and soul.
One expands the flame.
The other anchors it.
The Christ family lived this teaching not through spectacle, but through devotion. Their lives were shaped by simplicity, trust, and daily acts that may have looked small from the outside, yet carried immense spiritual weight.
So perhaps the invitation of this season is not to ask,
When will the light come?
But instead:
- Where am I being asked to keep it alive?
- What within me is being prepared, even now?
- What small flame am I willing to protect?
When we are moving through personal hardship, grief, or uncertainty, when the darkness of the world feels overwhelming, it can be tempting to lose faith. Yet these ancient rhythms remind us that Light always prevails, not because it is loud or forceful, but because it is faithful.
Our task is not to escape the darkness, but to remain present within it. To trust that something greater is unfolding, even when the pain feels unbearable and the path unclear. What we cannot yet see may already be preparing us for something deeper, wiser, and more whole.
And perhaps that is the quiet miracle of this season:
that even now, the flame is burning.This evening, as we light the second candles of Hanukkah and have 3 of our Advent Candles lit, here is a beautiful writing we can bring into our sacred space. This writing is from one of my favourite jewish mystics from the Al Andalus.
“You are the light hidden in this world
and revealed in the world to come;
in You the secret of existence is rooted,
and from You the source of life flows.”“You are wise, and wisdom is not acquired from You
but emanates from You,
and You are understanding,
yet understanding is not separate from You.”
— Solomon ibn Gabirol, Keter Malkhut (11th century, al-Andalus)
Ahava,
Ana Otero
