Digging in the Earth to Find the Light
By Michael Karlin
Co-President — Mythic Imagination Institute
Photo by Anne Parke Photography

Many of us know the story of Chanukah. How the Greek Assyrians, under the wicked king Antiochus, repressed the Jewish people in the land of Israel by prohibiting the study of Torah, circumcision, and the observance of the Sabbath, and by desecrating the Holy Temple by sacrificing non-kosher animals and setting up a statue of Jupiter in the Holy of Holies. We also know that the Jews, under the leadership of Judah the Maccabee, overthrew the Syrians and reclaimed the Temple. Finally we know that the Jews, in trying to rededicate the Temple, searched for and found only one cruse of oil still sealed by the High Priest for the candelabrum, only enough for one day, when they needed enough for eight, and that the oil miraculously lasted for all eight days.

That's what we know. What most people did not know, however, is that this one small flask of oil was found buried in the ground. This little known fact was brought forward by Tosefot, a group of medieval commentators related to the commentator of all commentators Rashi (Rabbi Shlomo Ben Yitzaki). This seemingly insignificant detail to this epic story seems to hold the key to some of the deepest meanings of this holiday. This is a time of great darkness. In the story, the holiest site of this people has been desecrated and defiled. They have just overcome a tremendous enemy and lost many lives. Their final task is to rededicate this holy site, and they cannot find the means by which to accomplish this task. Similarly, it is a dark time in our calendar. This story happens around the winter solstice, the darkest time of the year. In this time of great darkness, we are all seeking light. And in order to find the source of light, miraculous light, they needed to dig into the earth. They needed to go even deeper into the dark, work the earth, and uncover the source of light. It is a remarkable and poignant detail.

This detail reminds me of a wonderful story attributed to Reb Nachman of Bratslav, the great grandson of the Baal Shem Tov, the founder of Chassidic movement. Reb Nachman was one of Judaism's greatest storytellers. His stories are magical and mystical. They are full of intricate metaphors, and have been poured over and commented upon by some of the greatest Rabbis and scholars for the past two centuries. This particular story is rather simple, and its basic form can be found in stories all over the world. Literally, versions of this story have been found in all corners of the world. It is the story of the buried treasure, and it goes something like this:

There once lived a man of meager means named Yaacov. Yaacov lived in a small shetl in Poland with his wife and children in a one-room house with dirt floors. In the center of this house was a large fireplace, which provided the family with warmth and sustenance, as it was where they would cook the family's meals. One night, poor Yaacov had a dream. In this dream a voice said to him, "Go to Krakow. In Krakow you will find a bridge outside of the palace of the Czar. Underneath that bridge is buried a large treasure." Yaacov awoke, and being one who did not listen to silly things like dreams, he chose to ignore the dream.

Well, we all know what happens to dreams that go unheeded. The dream cam back, but only this time the voice was louder and more emphatic. Yet, still Yaacov tried to ignore the dream. Krakow was hundreds of miles away, and it was the dead of winter. He could not possibly listen to this dream.

Yet, it persisted. For the third night in a row, Yaacov had the same dream, but this time it was louder still, and even more emphatic, "Go to Krakow and find this treasure!"

Yaacov could ignore it no more. He finally revealed this crazy dream to his wife, and told her he was going to start his long walk to Krakow. Knowing him to be a generally reasonable man, and not one to follow silly whims, she supported his quest, wrapped up some of their short supply of bread and cheese in a cloth, and sent him on his way.

Yaacov headed out towards Krakow against the beating snow and frigid winds. He walked for days, staying in barns and inns along the way, walking day-after-day until finally he arrived at the great city of Krakow.

As he approached the palace he saw the bridge that was still so clear in his mind from the dream. As he came closer to the bridge, he noticed that the captain of the guards was stationed on top of this bridge. His spirits sank as he realized that the captain would surely see him going under the bridge to dig up this treasure and would throw him into jail or steal the treasure or both!

He hovered around the bridge waiting for an opportunity to sneak under it and find his treasure. He waited and waited for many days until the captain of the guard finally got suspicious and approached Yaacov to find out what he was doing snooping around this bridge. Without knowing what else to do, Yaacov blurted out why he was there, revealing to him that he had dreamed that a treasure was buried under this very bridge outside the palace in Krakow, and that he must travel there to dig it up. Hearing this, the captain roared with laughter. He said, "You fool! Do you actually believe in silly dreams? Well then, you will be interested to know that just last night I had a dream that in a small shetl there lives a poor farmer named Yaacov, and under the hearth in his home is buried a treasure! Do you see me running to every shetl in the countryside looking for buried treasure? I am no fool! Go back home peasant, and stop listening to silly dreams."

When Yaacov heard this story, he wondered, "Could it be? Could there really be a treasure buried beneath my own hearth?"

With that, he headed off back towards his shetl. Again, he fought his way through snow and sleet. He traveled faster than even before. Finally he arrived back home, burst through the door and began digging up the fireplace. His wife thought he had lost his mind. He was ragged from the journey, his clothes worn through, his body weak and frail, yet he was digging with passion and purpose. Finally, after a short period of time, his hands hit something hard and hollow. He had come upon the buried treasure, which had been there all along within the hearth of his own home. With the money in the chest he expanded his house and purchased the finest foods, so he could welcome in the whole community to eat and learn with him. To hear his tale of how once he was a poor farmer, and by following his dream, and digging into the earth, he found his treasure.

This journey is all of our journeys. As T.S. Eliot said, "We shall not cease from exploration / And the end of all our exploring / Will be to arrive where we started / And know the place for the first time." We must all wander in pursuit of our dreams. We must break with what is comfortable and familiar in order to find our treasure. And as with Yaacov and the Maccabees, this is a journey out into the world that will ultimately lead us back to our own homes to dig deep into our hearth or heart to find our light. May you see miracles all around you. Happy holidays.

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