Throughout Jewish traditional literature, the relationship between joy and mindfulness remains one of the central themes. In the midst of the joyful, the sages of the Talmud counseled to remember in the midst of joy, or sorrow, that "this too shall pass."

So, too, we find this theme reflected in the celebration of Hanukkah. While the early accounts of the Hashmonian revolt, such as Josephus or the Books of Maccabbees, focused on the military campaigns between the Seleucids and the Jews, the Talmud focuses on the laws of placing, lighting, and counting the festive lights. In fact, these histories mention nothing of the miracle cruse of oil, while the Talmud is silent on the military victories and the triumph of Jews over the Greeks.

The Talmudic tractate on blessings says that there are three things that are good in moderation but bad in excess: salt, wine, and humility. It goes without saying that fire is clearly a member of that group. As a result, the sages writing about the Festival of Lights focus on Chanukah in both a surface as well as deep sense.

The sages specify where and when the candles are to be lit, with the primary intention that they shall be safe. Light in the surface sense is an incredible gift to humanity. It gives warmth and glow to those who use it wisely. It cooks our food, it illuminates our manuscripts, it pushes back darkness in the literal as well as figurative sense. However, like many things in life, it is also taken for granted. Therefore the sages instituted the traditional recitation of the "rules" for the Festival Lights, which is made during the lighting of the menorah:

"These lights we kindle upon the miracles, the wonders, the salvations, and the battles which You performed for our forefathers in those days at this season through Your holy priests. During all eight days of Chanukah, these lights are sacred, and we are not permitted to make ordinary use of them but to look at them in order to express thanks and praise to Your Great Name for Your miracles, Your wonders, and Your salvations." (Siddur Etz Chaim)

These are lights, clearly are not to be used to read by or work by or to do any of our mundane tasks utilizing the light generated from them. They are sacred. As such, we are to watch them and enjoy the miracle of Light, then and at all time. The Light in general, as well as the specific events, is the focus of our act of lighting. Indeed, the Talmud tells us that the time for lighting was at the end of the day in the market place, outside the house, and at a height that was deemed safe enough not to be knocked over by passing animals.

In other words, the sages were concerned with the "rule" of joy and mindfulness. Joy for the gift of Light and God's mysterious workings in human affairs. Mindfulness that the Light should not overstep its bounds spreading disaster and destruction in its path as a voracious damager. Indeed, this is symbolically taught by the very nature of the Chanukah menorah itself--four lights balanced by four lights.

Our lives, the sages instruct, are a balance between the desire to be joyous and the necessity to be mindful. Lack of attention to detail, as well as lack of acknowledgment to God can turn a small match into a raging inferno. Chanukah, now as then, comes to teach us about mindfulness and dedication. In any age mindfulness is reciprocally measured compared to salt, wine, and humility: too little is dangerous, too much is just right.