Last year my daughter’s Israeli teacher at gan (daycare) taught the class the song “Bannu Choshech” before their Chanukah performance. My daughter practiced endlessly and continued to sing this song well after Chanukah—she sang it loudly as we waited in line for rides at Disney during January winter break, she sang it in her bed in the morning as spring arrived, she sang it in the car on the way home from camp. And now, she excitedly sings it, knowing Chanukah is coming. My favorite part is the way her morah taught her to whisper when singing “Kol Echad Hu Or Kattan” (each one is a small light) and then to shout out the line “Ve-kulannu Or Eytan” (and together we are a strong light/we shine bright.)

Because that reminder—that together we shine bright—is so often needed. As Chanukah begins, we will undoubtedly see many messages and articles about the light unto the darkness of our time. Connections will be made between the miracles Hashem performed all those years ago and our current strife. At this time, what many of us need most is hope. We strive for a better future; we are hopeful for our brothers and sisters in Israel, for the rescuing of the hostages and the demise of Hamas. We are hopeful that those attacked, the families of the victims and the hostages will all heal. We are hopeful for the safety of Am Yisrael not only in Israel, but around the world. We are hopeful for so much. Or at least, we try to be.

But what happens when our hope dims?

Not because we lack faith, per se, but because of the absolute pain and devastation that can feel like too much to handle. How do we hold onto hope when the right to defend our nation is actively questioned and judged, when we worry about safety?

There are many answers to this seemingly rhetorical question. The first answer is to bring yourself back to recognition of the might of Hashem and the way He repeatedly has saved us. We can brush up on the miracle of Chanukah. Not the oil, but the way we defeated Antiochus and the Greek/Hellenist armies, reclaiming the Beit HaMikdash against all odds. But not truly against all odds, as Hashem was with us.

The next answer comes with a touch of avoidance: Put your pursuit of hope to the side, just for now. Focus instead on what you need to do to continue forward and function. Tether yourself to tasks and look to grow your light by connecting to others. This traumatizing experience is easily leaving so many feeling isolated, gaslit and heartbroken. I’ve heard from countless individuals—and also felt it myself—that one of the only tangible comforts is to be within the community. To reach out for support whether this is venting or crying about a comment made, voicing unanswerable fears or simply getting coffee and being connected beyond the pain.

Moreover, find a bite-sized way you can be hopeful. Perhaps the grand hope of our future feels just a bit too overwhelming to envision right now. We feel like we are sinking under the weight of so much suffering and so much hate. So identify what you can be hopeful for—however small.

We’ve likely all read countless quotes about the power of light in dark times. It can be difficult to ignite that light. But please know, dear reader, that by simply existing you are providing a spark and a light in this world. It may feel faint at times, but in a dark world all we need is just a spark of light to illuminate the space around us. Maintaining hope can feel impossible during a time of this much sorrow. Dig deep, have compassion, seek out hope in a way that feels doable—rather than all or nothing. So many clients tell me when beginning therapy that they are not yet ready to “100%” give up their eating disorders. And I tell them that I’d be shocked if that was the case. We can still move forward even when we might not be feeling completely connected to our hope or motivation. But we need to do so together.

The last lines of “Bannu Choshech” teach us to let our glow shine through and illuminate the dark. Dear reader, you need not interpret this as putting pressure on yourself to light up the world. You light it up by being in it. Remember this. Remember that hope can exist, and remember that part of what we must do is being a strong light by coming together as one nation.

Thank you, Morah D. for bringing us this hope by teaching us this beautiful song. Chanukah Sameach to all. May it be filled with light—and peace.

Temimah Zucker, LCSW, works in New York and New Jersey with individuals ages 18 and older who are struggling with mental health concerns, and specializes in working with those looking to heal their relationships between their bodies and souls. Zucker is an adjunct professor at the Wurzweiler School of Social Work, an advocate and public speaker concerning eating disorder awareness and a metro-New York consultant at Monte Nido. To learn more or to reach her, visit www.temimah.com.