Hanukkah is our only holiday that spans two Hebrew months. Beginning today, the final two nights of Hanukkah correspond with the first two nights of the month of Tevet. The glow of Rosh Chodesh Tevet is illuminated as we ignite the brightest lights of the Menorah. What do we see as we kindle these flames?
Bereisheet Rabbah, an early rabbinic collection of midrash (oral Torah), tells us that the earth is known by four names, each connected to a different month emerging in its own quarter of the year. One such Aramaic name emerges in Tevet “Arkah, אַרְקָא (green), for in Tevet, she, the earth, makes her fruits turn green.”
I uncover this midrash in chilly Philadelphia. For weeks now, all but our evergreen trees sway, stripped bare, in the winter winds. Our first snowflakes dusted the ground on the solstice. In our treeline, green is a distant memory. Far away from the Holy Land of California, and farther still from the ecology of the Middle East in which so many of our texts and traditions arose, I am surprised to encounter this teaching. Living through almost a decade of California rains, I know some of her hillsides are beginning to emerge in green. And yet, so much of our earth is living a different story.
Why, then, Arka? What does it mean to make one’s fruits turn green? What meaning can we make of this midrash in seasons in which our changing climates makes those rains that turn our earth green elusive, or seasons spent in ecological diaspora?
There is a ripening that occurs only in our darkest hours.
It is because darkness far outweighs light that earth’s fruits turn green. It is because, in the face of darkness, our earth is brave enough to strip down to its bones, expose itself, sink its energy into its roots, that earth’s fruits turn green.
Thank you, precious Arka, for this welcome and uncomfortable invitation. As we kindle the final and brightest Hanukkah lights this and each Tevet, let each flame remind us to embrace our own darkest hours as fully as Arka, our earth. Whether this embrace brings us stillness, calm and trust, or taps us into our deepest yearning for light, may we know that it is because of, not in spite of, our presence in the darkness that our fruits will surely turn green.
About Your Teacher:
Rabbi Aya lives with her family in Philadelphia where she supports several local communities as a scholar-in-residence, consultant and spiritual guide. In 2025, Rabbi Aya is launching Aish Levanah (white fire): an immersive Adult B’nai Mitzvah cohort (retreat and zoom based). She is also available for one-on-one spiritual mentorship, crafting ritual for traditional and personalized life cycle events, and project-based consulting for communities seeking to enhance their Earth-Based Jewish offerings. Learn more, or sign up for information on Aish Levanah here.
