Let the light in

“Mommy, look at the unicorn sky,” my 6-year-old said one morning at dawn, as the sun was rising over the city. When my daughters see a sky painted with pastel pinks and purples, they’ve dubbed it a “unicorn sky.” I love that, despite all the distractions of growing up in 2025, they’re still awed by the beauty and distinctiveness of the sky, and that they take notice of a sunrise.

So do I. Even before having children, I was an early riser. My circadian rhythms have always seemed to mimic the internal clock of a baker, a rooster, or someone twice my age.

Whenever I can, I’ll watch the sun rise. Each time, I’m struck by the light and beauty of the sky, a palette of oranges, yellows, and pinks dancing together, each breathtaking and different than the one before. It never gets old, and it’s something that I can depend on–literally like clockwork. The demands of the upcoming day are far from my mind while I’m enveloped by the peaceful majesty of the scene.

It’s comforting to know that, in a world with so much uncertainty, we can depend on the sun coming up every day. Can you imagine how relieved the earliest humans, still learning how the world operated, must have felt every time the sun rose another day?

When I catch a sunrise, my faith grows. There’s a prayer we say every 28 years thanking G-d for creating the sun– Birkat Hachama , the “Blessing of the Sun”–and I think about that blessing in these quiet moments at dawn.

Light has been an ever-present theme in my life. In fact, my bat mitzvah Torah portion was Bereshit, the story of creation. Remember, the one where G-d said, “Let there be light”? So for my bat mitzvah party “theme,” instead of incorporating ballet or Broadway musicals into my party like some of the other 13-year-old girls, my celebration showcased images of the sun, moon, and stars. Did I know how to throw a party or what?

It’s ironic, all this talk about light, as the shortest days of the year–and Chanukah–are just around the corner. We’ll soon light candles for eight nights, to remember “the great miracle that happened there.”

Through millennia, we Jews have gotten very adept at kindling light in the darkness. We recognize that even when it’s darkest, we have to keep faith that the sun will come out tomorrow.

Through peril, persecution, and turmoil–through the darkest Jewish chapters in history, including these last two challenging years–we’ve held out hope that the sun will rise again tomorrow. The Jewish people recognize that the light, ultimately, always vanquishes the dark.

No matter what the season, I see light all around. I see light when I encounter an older couple holding hands walking down the street. I see light when my daughters sing the KPop Demon Hunters soundtrack from memory in their high-pitched voices. And I see light in how our community steps up for each other, and for the broader community, to repair the world.

We even find light in the broken places. In his song “Anthem,” Leonard Cohen writes: “There is a crack, a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.”

This winter, let’s let the light get in. May your Chanukah be full of light!