Personal Stories
The Shortest Candle Lighting—and the Brightest One
A Soviet prison, two matches, and a Jewish soul that refused to give up Chanukah.
- Naama Green
- פורסם י"ד כסלו התשפ"א

#VALUE!
Journalist Yedidya Meir once described what might have been the shortest Chanukah candle lighting in Jewish history—but one that continues to stir hearts decades later.
The story was shared by Yuli Edelstein, Speaker of the Knesset and a former prisoner in the Soviet Union. Years ago, he told it to a small classroom of young boys at the Letzion Berina school in Beitar Illit.
Back in 1984, Yuli was sentenced to three years of hard labor in a Siberian prison camp. The official charge was “drug possession,” but everyone knew the real reason: he was a proud Jew involved in Zionist and religious activities. That was enough to land someone behind bars in the Soviet Union.
He had spent three long months in solitary confinement. On the day of his sentencing, Yuli entered the courtroom, surrounded by police and security guards. Normally, family members are allowed to attend court proceedings, but the seats were packed with officers to keep his loved ones out. Still, his wife Tanya and his mother managed to slip in.
As the guards moved to escort him back to his cell, Yuli managed to push his head through the circle of security for just a moment. He had one question—one urgent, burning question to ask his wife after not seeing her for three months.
He called out: “Tanya, which candle is it tonight?”
At first, everyone—including his wife—thought he had lost his mind. The guards looked confused. Tanya stared blankly. So he shouted again: “Which candle is it tonight?”
Only on the third time did she understand. Her eyes lit up. “Tonight we light the second candle!” she called back.
It was the first Sunday of Chanukah, 5744 (1984). Yuli hadn’t seen a calendar in months, but after hearing the Gregorian date in court, he did some quick mental math and figured that Chanukah must have started.
That night, no longer in solitary but now among other sentenced prisoners, Yuli somehow managed to obtain two matches. No menorah, no candles—just two matches and a deep yearning.
“I stood by the barred window,” he told the students, “and I lit the two matches. I stayed there for just a few seconds, until the flames burned my fingers.”
It was, he said, perhaps the shortest candle lighting ever. He didn’t even know if he had fulfilled the mitzvah—the commandment to light the Chanukah candles. But in that moment, for him, it was everything.
“A little bit of light,” he said, “pushed away a lot of darkness.”
That’s the heart of Chanukah. Even when everything around us is cold, harsh, and uncertain—one small flame can warm a soul. One match lit with love and faith can change a moment, a night, or a life.
This year, when you light your Chanukah candles, remember Yuli Edelstein and his two matches. And know that no matter where you are, your light matters too.