Zot Chanukah is often treated as the end of Chanukah. But Chassidus teaches the opposite: this is where it finally begins.

Rav Shlomo Katz and the chevra of Shirat David explore the hidden depth of Zot Chanukah through a striking Belzer custom: singing Mizmor L’Todah specifically on the final night of Chanukah. Why does gratitude wait until now? Why wasn’t it possible earlier?

We uncover a powerful idea: for the first seven days of Chanukah, Am Yisrael was still unable to fully say “thank you.” They were impure, the Mizbeach wasn’t ready, the Beit HaMikdash itself wasn’t yet fit for korbanot. Everything was preparation.

Only on Zot Chanukah, when the Mizbeach was finally completed and Klal Yisrael became pure, could everyone bring a Korban Todah. Thousands of pent-up thank-yous, from years of waiting, finally poured out in one day. Zot Chanukah became a national Yom Tov of gratitude.

This teaching reframes the avodah of today:

Not waiting for a perfect ending to say thank you. Not postponing gratitude until the picture is complete. Learning to give thanks as soon as it becomes possible.

Zot Chanukah isn’t closure. It’s commitment. It’s the beginning of a year lived with awareness, humility, and gratitude.

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Chanukah is usually 30 minutes of candles… and then eight days of “okay, it’s Chanukah.” But what if the whole avodah is learning to notice what’s already happening?

In this shiur, Rav Shlomo Katz and the women of Shirat David learn a short but powerful piece from Rav Ginsburgh that flips the way we think about the “two miracles” of Chanukah: the military victory and the miracle of the oil. Both are above nature, but they’re not the same kind of miracle.

The war was loud, dramatic, “split-the-sea” miraculous — and it came after Yidden cried out from below: Ribbono Shel Olam, save us. But the miracle of the oil is the opposite: it’s a miracle that, halachically speaking, wasn’t even necessary (tumah hutrah b’tzibbur). Hashem did it anyway, not because we demanded it, but because He chose to come close and say, “I’m here.”

We explore the difference between miracles that break nature and miracles that quietly merge the supernatural into the natural — “התמזגות שקטה… שרק ניכרת בעיני המתבונן.” And we take it into real life: relationships, healing, growth, chinuch, the subtle turn of a child’s heart — the kind of “oil miracle” you only see if you slow down enough to look.

And then Rav Ginsburgh lands it with a stunning remez: Chanukah is not only Chanu kaf-hei (we “rested” from war on the 25th) — it’s also Chana kaf-vav: Hashem (26) “parks” with us… without being invited, just to show His chibah, His delight in His people.

This is Chanukah prep as a way of living: not waiting only for the loud salvations, but becoming a person of hisbonenus who can see the miracle of the oil inside your own life.

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For more Shuirim and Music from Rav Shlomo Katz, visit: https://ravshlomokatz.com

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In this Chanukah prep shiur, Rav Shlomo Katz and the chevra of Shirat David learn a piece from Rav Yitzchak Ginsburgh, based on a sicha of the Lubavitcher Rebbe from 5714 (1954), contrasting two very different kinds of light: the light of the Menorah in the Beit HaMikdash and the light of our little Chanukah flames today.

The Menorah of the Mikdash shone in a time of shleimut – when the Shechinah was revealed, when life in Am Yisrael was “hakol sababa,” full and bright. Seven branches, lit in broad daylight, from inside the Beit HaMikdash outwards – a light of harmony, order, and holy routine.

Chanukah light is born somewhere else entirely. It comes out of war on the Jewish soul, from thick darkness, from galut that still hasn’t ended. One small candle at the doorway, after night has already fallen, insisting on shining.

In this shiur we learn how Ner Chanukah reveals the eitan sheba’neshama – the indestructible point inside every Jew that often only wakes up when something is missing, when the heart is breaking. Together we explore why our generation is so deeply connected to Chanukah light, how “seven” (Beit HaMikdash) becomes “eight” (me’al ha’teva), why the oil of Chanukah is the sod of Torah the Baal Shem Tov wanted to bring to every Jew, and how a single “lonely candle” at your doorway can become the beginning of vayehi boker – a new morning of geulah.

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For more Shuirim and Music from Rav Shlomo Katz, visit: https://ravshlomokatz.com

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What if the deepest miracles of Chanukah aren’t revealed in fire, but in freedom?

In this shiur full of heart, music, memory, and truth, Rav Shlomo Katz takes us into the light of Chanukah, the soul of Shabbos, and the cry of the Jew who just wants to break free. We journey from ancient Greek philosophy to modern academia, from Rabbi Mordechai Singer z”l in Vietnam to the cries of tzaddikim by the candles.

At the center is a single plea: “Please, Hashem… unshackle me.”

In this Shiur:

• The danger of overthinking in the face of emunah
• The exile of “Yavan” inside our own minds
• How humility, not intellect, is the real path to truth
• Why crying out is more powerful than figuring it all out

Based on the teachings of Rav Biderman, we learned about the world of possibility and opportunity that Shabbos Chanukah offers.

Based on a teaching from the Lubavitcher Rebbe, we see how the nature of oil teaches us how to be a true lamplighter in the world.

Based on a piece from Reb Tzadok Hakohen of Lublin, we discover what becomes so crystal clear to us on Zos Chanukah.

What happens when even the holiest war leaves you broken?

Rav Shlomo Katz opens a window into the soul of Matisyahu and his sons — not at the moment of military triumph, but as they stood in the newly reclaimed Beit HaMikdash, weeping. Two of their children had died in the war. And now, at the peak of victory, they turned to Heaven with a trembling plea:

“Hashem, please show us it wasn’t for nothing.”

This shiur is for anyone who’s ever made a bold move, sacrificed for truth, fought for holiness — and then, when the dust settled, wondered: Was it worth it?