מִזְמוֹר שִׁיר־חֲנֻכַּת הַבַּיִת לְדָוִֽד׃ “A Song for the Dedication of the House, for David.”

This verse serves as the superscription to Psalm 30, a psalm which features prominently in our liturgy, appearing every day of the year in Shaharit, though that inclusion traces back only to the 17th century. Much older is the association of Psalm 30 with Hanukkah, presumably because of the superscription which includes the word Hanukkah, or dedication, and the word Bayit, a reference to the Temple, known as the House of the Sanctuary, בית המקדש. 

The association of Psalm 30 with Hanukkah is first attested by the minor tractate Masekhet Sofrim (18:2), which lists special Psalms to be read on each day of the week and on some festivals. It says simply, בחנוכה ארוממך ה׳, “On Hanukkah [one recites] ‘I exalt you, Lord.’” (Psalm 30:2)

Curiously, Tractate Sofrim does not refer to the Psalm’s superscription with its use of the word Hanukkah. This makes me wonder–is the association of Hanukkah to Psalm 30 really due to the superscription, or perhaps to the content of the Psalm itself? We’re not really sure what the superscription מזמור לדוד (A Song of David) means, incidentally. If it means that King David wrote these Psalms, what about all the others? Could לדוד mean that it is a Psalm written by poets in tribute to David? One suggestion is that this is actually a musical notation, indicating a certain type of melody or accompaniment.

There is also something unusual about the nature of this superscription, which has drawn critical attention from modern Bible scholars. There are many Psalms title as a Song of David, 36 in total, but they are all listed as מזמור לדוד or לדוד מזמור, with no words in between. Only Psalm 30 has this interpolation of three words. Were these words originally there, or might they have been added later in order to strengthen the connection of Psalm 30 to Hanukkah? This is the suggestion of Nahum Sarna z”l in his Psalms commentary, Songs of the Heart (149). He says that originally Psalm 30 was simply titled מזמור לדוד. 

If the superscription shows signs of later tampering, and the original source for this association between this Psalm and this holiday doesn’t even mention the superscription, then perhaps we should look to the body of the Psalm itself. Does it say anything about dedicating buildings? Not at all! Psalm 30 is a thanksgiving poem for a person who has been rescued from danger, perhaps from a severe illness, a near-death experience. The Psalmist speaks about having been raised up, rescued from the pit, revived from the very gates of Sheol. Their mourning has turned to joy, their lament to dance. 

Wonderful, but what exactly do such images of rescue have to do with the Temple, especially if the Psalm was written for the occasion of the first temple dedication, as Rashi claims, שִׁיר חֲנֻכַּת הַבַּיִת. שֶׁיֹּאמְרוּהוּ הַלְוִיִּם בַּחֲנֻכַּת הַבַּיִת בִּימֵי שְׁלֹמֹה? The first Temple dedication didn’t follow a national trauma; it was the culmination of the Israelite settlement in the land. S.R. Hirsch suggests that the conflicts and reversals of fortune in this Psalm refer to the life of David, and that when Solomon dedicated the first Temple, it was a vindication for his father. This does resonate with Solomon’s speech in 1 Kings 8. But Psalm 30 speaks in very personal terms about illness and captivity. These were not the experience of either Solomon or David.

Perhaps the Psalm 30 superscription dedicatory reference is not to the first Temple, but to the second one in 515 BCE, some seventy years after the first one was destroyed. Ezra claims that the entire people celebrated the dedication of the [second] House of God with joy” (Ez. 6:15-18). Then again, the reference could be four centuries later when the Maccabees reconquered and rededicated the Temple in 164 BCE. That would certainly cement the connection to Hanukkah, but where is the evidence? Sarna offers both options without rendering his verdict. Still, the basic problem remains. Psalm 30 is a first person expression of gratitude for recovery from an illness or other trauma. What does it have to do with a national celebration?

Sarna argues that the reconstructed title in verse 1, with its suspicious reference to the Dedication of the Temple, signals a broader reinterpretation of Psalm 30 as a collective experience of deliverance. He writes, “At some point, the composition was wholly reinterpreted so that the worshiper became the entire community as a collective personality. The implied sickness was understood as a metaphor for a national calamity, and the remarkable recovery was construed in terms of a great experience of national deliverance followed by the joyous rededication of the Temple at which the people voiced its eternal gratitude to God” (Songs of the Heart, 149).

This all makes good sense. And yet, there are many psalms of thanksgiving, and the theme of raising the downtrodden high is one of the most common tropes in the book. Moreover, escape from oppression applies equally to other Jewish festivals such as Purim and Pesah. Is there nothing specific to connect Psalm 30 to Hanukkah?

I can’t say for sure, but I have a theory. We always read Parshat Mikketz on Hanukkah, and it bears several obvious connections to Psalm 30. The Psalm leans heavily on vertical imagery, of being lifted up from the depths to the heights, using specific language of the pit (בור), and of the underworld, or Sheol. These words also figure prominently in the Joseph story. Last week he was thrown into a pit twice–first by his brothers, and then by the Egyptians after the incident with Mrs. Potiphar. And this week early in Mikketz, Joseph is lifted up from the pit, cleaned up, and presented to Pharaoh, who promptly elevates him over the Land of Egypt. 

There are also two references to She’ol. Last week when Jacob was shown Joseph’s bloodied tunic, he cried out that he would descend to She’ol in grief for his son. And this week, when asked to release Benjamin to go to Egypt, he again cries out about going down to She’ol in sorrow. These words and images come to mind as we read Psalm 30 and strengthen its association with Hanukkah. The Psalm refers to triumph over enemies who rejoiced over his downfall. It is easy to connect such experiences to Joseph. His is the Torah’s paradigmatic story of a reversal of fortune, from the pit to the royal court, for the brink of death to the highest heights of power. We don’t know exactly when the lectionary cycle was established, ensuring the overlap of Mikketz and Hanukkah each year, but for many centuries this arrangement has been in effect, making Psalm 30 an excellent choice for the festival of lights.

The Psalm’s message is not to give up hope, even in the most extreme situations. No matter how dark things become, redemption remains possible. This is an optimistic message and often necessary for our people. Yet there is a darkness lurking in the association with Joseph. Yes, he escapes the pit, but he then imprisons his own brothers. Yes, he rescues Egypt from famine, but he then enslaves its population, and this eventually catches up with his own family. The triumph of Joseph is not stable, but is just a stage in the endless oscillation of ups and downs.

In fact, this dynamic of triumph yielding to defeat is also true of the Hasmonean victory of Hanukkah. Yes, they beat back the Seleucids and establish a Jewish kingdom, but they quickly succumb to murderous infighting, leading to sectarianism, and the entry of a new occupier, Rome. 

The closest experience to our day is the birth of Israel just 3 years after the Shoah, which was experienced by world Jewry in these very terms, as a rescue from the gates of Sheol, a lifting from the pit, a defeat for mocking enemies, and a cause for song and dance. This deliverance bears clear resemblance to Hanukkah for better, and also for worse. Recurrent wars have marred the experience of independence, and in recent years Israelis have experienced increasingly bitter infighting. The question is how to convert a victory into a stable and peaceful future?

It is tempting in times of trouble to be fatalistic, to feel that our troubles are too great to be addressed, that the darkness of Sheol will ultimately triumph. The festival of Hanukkah gives us courage to face our troubles with the possibility of renewal, hithadshut. Certainly this Hanukkah with the attacks in Sydney literally starting us in sorrow, and other less lethal attacks here in America and in England, we don’t take joy for granted. We light our menorot, and sing and dance, asserting the power of joy.

At the same time, we must recall that what goes up comes down, and avoid the temptations of arrogance that can sour good fortune by prompting bad behavior, leading once more down to the pit. The lights of Hanukkah do eventually burn out. When we read Psalm 30, we celebrate the reversal of fortune of Hanukkah, and find an example of humble gratitude. Such humility is difficult to sustain but it is essential to establishing a virtuous cycle that is sustainable, leading to greater light for all. Only in this way may we fulfill the teaching of the school of Hillel, ma’alin ba’kodesh, v’ein moridin, that the holy light of Hanukkah should grow brighter, and never be dimmed. 

Delivered at Minyan Ma’at in New York, Dec. 20, 2025, Shabbat Hanukkah/Rosh Hodesh Tevet. Dedicated in memory of my teacher, Rabbi Eliezer Diamond, a colleague and friend to many in our minyan, who passed away last week. He was my first formal teacher of Humash with Rashi, going back to 1980, and a dear teacher and colleague for many years since.