Most Jewish holidays begin with lighting candles. Why does this fairly common ritual speak to my soul so profoundly? Is it the warmth and glow in darkness and cold of December? Is it that need something to remind myself of the miracles – present and past – that define us? This year especially, with Covid raging around us, does the act of brightening the room a bit more each night provide a desperately needed sense of that light at the end of the tunnel?