But with what? They had no menorah (candelabrum), and Hanukkah (holiday of light and happiness) was coming, when they would light candles. Welcome to the Daily Holy Story.
In the household of Rabbi Chaim of Sanz, the family members were used to valuable items disappearing from the home. It was the custom of the great tzaddik (righteous person), Rabbi Chaim of Sanz, not to leave any extra money or anything of value in his home, because everything was dedicated to charity: giving to yetomim, almanot, widows, orphans, and the like, and to people who needed help marrying off their children. In any case, the rabbi would take valuable items and use them as guarantees for loans or give them to charitable causes.
It was only a few weeks before the holiday of Hanukkah. There was a bang on the door, and the tzaddik answered it. A person of very, very high stature had come from a very, very important family. But the rabbi could see pain and suffering in him. He began to describe his lineage and where he came from, explaining that once upon a time his family had been very wealthy, but now he was very poor and had nothing. He had a daughter who was approaching marriageable age, but he had no dowry for her. Rabbi Chaim of Sanz looked at the man with terrible feeling. His eyes filled with tears for the poor man. He told him, “Hashem can give you salvation in a minute.”
He got up and started looking around the house for valuable objects. He couldn’t find anything. The house was empty, and nothing was left. Everything had been given either as a guarantee or as payment for money that had been lent, and so on. The tzaddik’s heart was squeezed, and he felt so bad for the poor man who needed money for his daughter to get married. The holiday of light and happiness. What was he to do? What happiness would there be in this poor man’s home, with no money for his daughter to get married?
But the thought of Hanukkah struck the tzaddik. He said to himself, “Hanukkah, Hanukkah.” All of a sudden, he had a smile on his face, and he shone. Like a little child, he took the chair to the corner of the room and climbed the cabinet. He took down a beautiful, silver Hanukkiah from the top shelf—a beautiful, silver menorah. He held it in his hand with love, climbed down from the chair, and wiped the dust from last year off the Hanukkiah. Then he wrapped it in a piece of paper so that there would be no ayin hara (evil eye) on it.
The poor man was looking at the tzaddik, confused. What is going to be? Then, all of a sudden, he broke into a smile of happiness. The rabbi gave him the valuable silver Hanukkiah.
A week before Hanukkah, the Rebbetzin (rabbi's wife) revealed that the Hanukkiah was missing. She didn’t scream or yell. She knew it wasn’t stolen. She knew that her husband had probably taken it and given it to a poor person. But her heart was squeezed. All the Jewish homes around theirs would be lighting up, but the home of the tzaddik, Chaim of Sanz, had no Hanukkiah.
One day before Hanukkah, the Rebbetzin reminded her husband, by the way, that they had no Hanukkiah. Her husband was calm and had a smile on his face. Erev (eve) Hanukkah arrived. Everybody rushed to pray Mincha (afternoon prayer) in the synagogue, and they all came back to light Hanukkah candles. Little by little, the windows of all the homes around the rabbi’s house lit up with Hanukkiah candles, except for one home: the house of the tzaddik, Chaim of Sanz. Like a regular day: no Hanukkah and no Hanukkiah.
The tzaddik sat in his room learning Torah, studying chiddushim (Torah insights) about the holiday of Hanukkah. The members of the household were confused. What was going to happen? How were they going to light Hanukkah candles? Suddenly, the door to the tzaddik’s room opened, and his shining figure came out. Looked like he was preparing himself no Hanukkiah.
At that very moment, the sound of a wagon came from outside the house of Chaim of Sanz. There was a beautiful wagon with horses, and a couple—a husband and wife—dressed in royal clothing. They had an object in their hands. They apologized for coming at such a late hour, but they needed to meet with the rabbi. Chaim of Sanz took them into his office and closed the door for an hour. They revealed their pain and suffering to him, and that they needed a beracha (blessing) to have children.
At the end, the man stood up and, as a token of appreciation, gave the rabbi a beautiful silver Hanukkiah with very gentle hands. It was tall and shining. From then on, things went on as usual. Naturally, the tzaddik came out of his room with the Hanukkiah shining. He poured the olive oil into the flasks and put the wicks on them. With his right hand, using the shamash (helper candle), he made the three berachot to light the Hanukkiah, for keeping us alive, and for bringing us to this day. That lighting had a very special meaning to the entire family. Thank you for listening.