Who would have dreamed that within that little jar of oil was a miracle waiting to happen? In a way, we all have something in common with that little jar.

Jewish wisdom has an image of every person: The image is that of a vessel. In some way we are all receptacles. Each of us has the potential to receive or accept spirituality into our lives. However, just as some vessels are more appropriate for certain contents than others, so too certain people seem to be more appropriately shaped - so to speak - for certain types of spirituality than others.

We tend to have very definitive images of ourselves. How many times have you looked at someone who had a particular strength - maybe they are very disciplined or maybe they are very flexible and easy going; maybe they are always up on all the political issues of the day or maybe they never lose their temper - and said to yourself "that's just not me"?

When looking at ourselves as vessels, an important issue that needs to be explored is this: What is it that determines the "shape" of our personal vessels? What makes one of us a cereal box, one of us a wicker basket and another a crystal vase? The answer, of course, is multi- faceted.

The initial mold of our vessel is cast by God. It is then dramatically shaped and worked by our parents, stamped by our friends and society and chiseled here and there by countless life experiences. And then comes our part. Each of us is clearly a central force in molding and shaping ourselves. We each possess a far-reaching ability to make out of everything that we are, the vessel we want to be. As we engage in the process of shaping ourselves, one of the pivotal factors that ultimately determines the nature and contours of our vessel is our self-perception.

Eventually most of us reach a point in life when we look at ourselves and say, "This is who I am." At that moment we unknowingly cross a threshold and in doing so we give a final shape to our vessels - to ourselves. At the moment that we proclaim "this is who I am," we relegate most everything else to the realm of "that's just not me." The spiritual consequence of putting the final touches of self-perception on our vessels is that we have decided which types of spiritual experiences are open to us and which are closed. For some people there is nothing more sublime and inspiring - nothing that touches the soul more - than a stirring piece of Mozart or Yanni; while someone else will decline even the chance to listen to such music because they already know, "that's just not me." For some people it can be a prayer or the sound of the shofar that most fully fills their vessel, while someone else will just look on with a sense of disbelief knowing without a doubt that such things are "just not me."

One of the most powerful principles that underlies Chanukah - and one of the most profound opportunities that it presents us with - is the concept that no matter where we are in life, we still possess the inner ability to recast the form of our vessels. Chanukah is a time when there exists an unusual potential to reshape our vessels and thus enable ourselves to receive all sorts of spiritual gifts that we never imagined we could possess. Chanukah is a time to look again at things that we have declared to be "just not me" and to open ourselves to the possibility that we can still give new lines, textures and dimension to the figure of our vessels; ourselves.

I would like to make the following suggestion as a method for accessing the full potential of Chanukah. Identify two things in life that fall into the "that's just not me" category. Then, sometime during Chanukah, Go ahead and do them anyway, with the following attitude: "I always thought that this just isn't who I am but I'm going to give it a try and open myself to whatever the experience has to offer."

Of the two things that you try make one of them overtly Jewish, like lighting Shabbat candles Friday evening, attending a class about Judaism or saying a few blessings before and after you eat some of your food one day. The other can be more worldly, like taking a long hike through the woods, visiting a nursing home, or writing in a journal.

During the eight days of Chanukah the same spiritual lights that were created by the miracle are once again available to every Jewish soul. However, in order to experience and to feel this unique light, we need to detach ourselves from the natural order of things and thereby ready ourselves to receive that which emanates from above the natural order.

- Sefas Emes, early Chassidic master

The story of Chanukah is the story of the defiance of the natural order of things. It is the story of a moment in history when what should have happened didn't, when the ordinary, the expected and the natural were overwhelmed by the extraordinary, the unexpected and the spiritual. The Jewish rebels turned back the mighty Greek army, Judaism and Jewish life survived the onslaught of a culture that changed world history. and a small vessel that appeared to contain only a bit of oil became the source for eight days of light.

When we look at ourselves and say "that's me" or "that's not me," we lock ourselves into the world of the ordinary and the expected. Chanukah not only reminds us that there is another dimension to life, but it also asks us to open ourselves up to that dimension by stepping outside of the mold we have created for ourselves. When we dare to defy what we would ordinarily expect of ourselves, when we make an effort to give new shape to our vessels, we then become capable of receiving a light that should only have shined for a day but that in fact continues to shine, even today.