I Prayed for the Hostages at the Candles… Again

2024 Reflection #2: Chanukah this December

I prayed for the hostages at the candles again.

I thought the flames last year would be great enough to reach the Heavens and tear apart their chains. 

My heart was split into pieces I did not know it was large enough to hold; scars formed around the edges of the earthquake and a cavity formed great enough to hold a lake of tears.

A familiar aching surrounds my heart; the aching of prayer at the Chanukah candles…layered all year, now to be uncovered again… unexpectedly, for I assumed that by the time we could feel the next Chanukah, they’d be free.

I prayed last year; oh, the bitterness of repetition; oh, the hopelessness of repetition; oh, the agony of repetition.

Their holidays in captivity are beginning to double… 

 How long can someone be a slave before they break?

I thought my tears would pierce the Heavens; I thought the power of prayer at the candlelight would cut through to God and that He’d hear.

Oh, the agony; oh, the pain; oh, the shaking; oh, how they cannot celebrate this holiday of light because they are stuck in the dark.

Their families light menorahs without them, and what should be celebration is blackened with pain.

One Menorah stands empty; one will never be lit; it awaits its owner, and others would dare not light it.

As long as God hides them, they will hide His light.

They are part of the light, and when fire is missing, the lamp burns less bright.

Can any of us truly celebrate this year? Each gathering will be marred with heartache, each celebration darkened with suffering, each song marked with pain.

Because in our Chanukah light, we did not forget your darkness.