One verse, five voices. Edited by Nina Litvak and Salvador Litvak, the Accidental Talmudist
And you shall command the children of Israel, and they shall take to you pure olive oil, crushed for lighting, to kindle the lamps continually.
– Ex. 27:20
Cantor Michelle Bider Stone
Temple Beth Am
I currently have boxes full of menorahs in my living room. They’re part of what has become a nationwide effort to help families affected by the Palisades and Eaton fires replenish their Judaica collections. While we can never replace the memories of these lost precious family heirlooms, we hope to bring back some joy by providing items such as mezuzot, challah boards, seder plates, candlesticks, and of course, menorahs. When I read this verse, all I could think of were the menorahs in my house, generously donated by members of this community, waiting to find new homes where they will shine brightly.
Rabbi Joshua ben Levi, in the Midrash, likens the Jewish people to a crushed olive, saying that “Israel fulfills its potential in Torah only when pressed by suffering.” Just like olive oil must be crushed in order to be used to light, the rabbis teach that the Jewish people must face difficulties to reach its full potential in the world. Our city has been through so much with the fires. Over 500 Jewish families have lost their homes with another 450 suffering significant fire damage. Our people’s strength is how we rise to a challenge. Over 30 LA and OC synagogues, schools, and the Federation joined institutions, vendors and artists around the country to run donation drives and make or collect new and used Judaica, which will help these families turn their temporary houses into homes. In this trying time, we are the olive oil that burns bright.
Elan Javanfard L.M.F.T.
Professor & Author, “Psycho-Spiritual Insights” blog
The commandment to bring “pure olive oil, crushed for lighting” carries deep psychological and spiritual significance. Rabbeinu Bachya, drawing on Proverbs 27:9, connects the oil and incense with the necessity of offering not just physical sustenance but also emotional warmth to those who have been uprooted from their homes.
Psychologically, displacement — whether through exile, trauma or personal upheaval — creates a profound sense of loss and alienation. A person torn from their familiar environment is like a bird that has lost its nest, disoriented and vulnerable. While providing material support is crucial, the deeper need is for warmth, understanding and companionship. Shlomo HaMelech’s wisdom suggests that while food and shelter sustain the body, it is the “sweetness of a friend” — genuine kindness, empathy, and human connection — that nourishes the soul.
This aligns with modern psychological research on resilience and well-being. Studies show that social support is one of the strongest predictors of emotional stability in times of crisis. A simple act of recognition — a smile, a kind word — can restore dignity to those who feel invisible. The Gemara in Ketuvot 111a teaches that showing the “white of one’s teeth” — offering a heartfelt smile — can be more nourishing than milk itself.
The menorah’s oil, kindled continually, represents this unwavering light of connection. Just as Hashem rejoices in the incense offering, so too does the human spirit brighten when met with sincere warmth. It is not enough to provide for needs; we must illuminate the darkness with presence, empathy and love.
Michael Milgraum, PhD
Psychologist and Author
I believe the crushed olive in this parsha is a hint to the Jewish people. Looking over the wide swath of history, who are the people who arguably suffered the most? The Jewish people. And who has spread a powerful and continuous light across the world, in terms of spirituality, justice, compassion, intellectual achievement and innovation? Just the same, the Jewish people.
In parsha Lech Lecha, Hashem promises the holy land of Canaan to Avram, who asks how he can be assured this will come to pass. In response, Hashem forms a covenant with Avram, in which Hashem says, in part, that the Jewish people will be oppressed in Egypt for 400 years.
What is the connection between the promise of Canaan and the prophecy about Egypt? As a psychologist, I often see how it is our very suffering that burnishes our souls and makes us more humble, sensitive to others, committed to a higher purpose and resourceful in accessing our inner potential that we might not otherwise have been aware of. It is our suffering that can raise us higher, prime us to share our dormant light, and cause us to ascend spiritually.
We have seen this in very recent times, in response to the crushing blow of the last year and a half of war in Israel — we have seen the miracle of our people pulling together, stepping forth to help each other and deepen the intensity of our prayers. The crushing has once again yielded light.
Liane Pritikin
Writer, Torah Speaker
Your wish is my command. A phrase made famous from Aladdin, a genie, and a magic lamp. Cute when it comes to a folk tale. Less so when it comes to 613 commandments. One could say the relationship between Aladdin and the genie is one of master and servant, but that’s not so kosher in 2025. The internet says they’re friends. Do we feel like friends with G-d? That mitzvot are His wishes and we fulfill them as His friend? The relationship between the Jewish people and G-d has been described as a love relationship like between a bride and a groom. How do we respond when our loved ones make requests? A begrudging yes, dear? Compliance to avoid rocking the boat? Or excitement that you have this awesome relationship and get to say your wish is my command? The last 17 months – the last one especially – have been rough for the Jewish people. What has been interesting is that Jewish people seem to be leaning in to Judaism more, not less. More prayer, more challah baking, more Tehillim, more shabbat candles. More mitzvot. More commands. This concept of “more” is epitomized by the way G-d asks us to kindle the lamps in the Tabernacle – continually. For a folk tale’s magic lamp it’s a three-wish relationship. But in the case of G-d’s lamp, G-d always wants to be in a relationship with us. That’s His wish. And I think we’re all becoming more grateful that His wish is our command.
Rabbi Aryeh Markman
Executive Director, Aish LA
Every word of Torah is laden with hidden meanings. What is this verse hinting to that we need for living?
We know that oil and the menorah mean Torah itself. So how do we incorporate the Torah into our lives? The verse is telling us: quality, sacrifice and consistency.
Quality: We need purity of intention. We must seek the truth for truth’s sake, and not attach “sediment,” i.e. ulterior motives, when trying to uncover the veracity in our lives. Only then can we truly start living unadulterated meaning and purpose.
Sacrifice: This is alluded to in the words “crushed for lighting.” To be a light, one must be willing to sacrifice a bit of pleasure or wealth for the goal of living with a higher calling.
Consistency: Perhaps the most important ingredient. The final word in this verse underscores the great Torah ideal of continuity. To recognize the tremendous importance of constantly and continually doing actions, however small, and amassing a treasure trove of activities that have a long-term effect on a person. Maimonides writes that it is beneficial for a person to give small amounts, if need be, of charity often, thereby exercising our giving muscle. It is the repetition of small actions that affect one’s psyche. Hence the tradition on Purim. But also give large charitable donations when you can! May we all be a continual light in our own lives and in those of our families and show the world the power and truth of the Torah.
