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We All Ask, “Who Am I?”

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin Parents often ask their children, “What do you want to be when you group up?” They sometimes get the typical answer: nurse, doctor, fire fighter, etc. Sometimes, the responses are unexpected. One of my children once answered that he wanted to be a fire truck. One girl named Suzy, when asked this question, answered, “I want to be Suzy. If I become someone else, then who will be Suzy? I just want to be myself.” There’s a halakhah that states: When a person is asked to be the Shaliach Tzibur (the person who leads the prayers in synagogue), he should initially decline. When asked a second time, he should hesitate slightly. When asked a third time, he should ascend to the cantor’s post immediately. The Talmud (TB Berachot 34a), which is the source of this law, states: “One who doesn’t hesitate at all is like a cooked food without salt; one who refuses excessively is like a cooked food with too much salt.” The Sfas Emes remarked that three biblical figures acted as examples of three types of people: (1) Korach aspired for honor, and was like the food without salt at all. (2) Aharon hesitated when invited to be a Kohen, but only initially, and therefore he was like the food with just the right amount of salt. (3) Moshe, when told by God to be the redeemer of Israel, refused excessively, and was like the food that is too salty.

Moshe's refusals

Moshe refused Hashem’s invitation a full three times. The first time he refused was when he said (3:11), “מִי אָנֹכִי” – “Who am I, that I should go to Pharaoh, and that I should take Bnei Israel out of Egypt?” The second time he demurred was based on his having a speech impediment (4:10): “בִּי אֲדֹ-נָי” “O God, there is a defect in me! I am not a man of words… I am rather a man of heavy mouth and tongue.” The third time Moshe refused, he didn’t give an apparent reason, but simply said, very cryptically (4:13): Once again, “בִּי אֲדֹ-נָי” – the problem is within me. “שְׁלַח־נָא בְּיַד־תִּשְׁלָח” – “Send now, in a hand send.” We don’t even know what those words mean, but this refusal raised Hashem’s subsequent ire against Moshe (4:14). Why did Moshe refuse three times, and how do we understand his final objection? There are so many different ways of understanding the vision of the Burning Bush. Rashi’s grandson, Rabbi Shmuel ben Meir (Rashba”m) has a fascinating interpretation (3:11). He suggests that the Burning Bush was a model to Moshe about himself. Every human being is usually in charge of and limited by his natural abilities. But there are times when miracles occur, and the human being is “possessed,” as it were, with superhuman abilities that far exceed his own abilities. A regular bush would normally be consumed if it was infused with so much fiery energy. However, there are times when God can infuse an individual with power that would normally consume him; miraculously, the individual endures that power and accomplishes great things with it.

Have no fear

Hashem was telling Moshe that he should not fear the formidable task being assigned to him. Even though a normal human being would not have the ability to just saunter into Pharaoh’s palace and make such demands, and even though a normal human being would not have the ability to persuade an entire nation of people to pick everything up and leave their homeland, Moshe was about to be infused with a superhuman strength that was not his own. This is what Hashem meant when he said to Moshe (3:12): “כִּי־אֶהְיֶה עִמָּךְ” – “I will be with you; you will not be doing this on your strength, but rather with the special Divine energy that I am implanting within you.” “וְזֶה־לְּךָ הָאוֹת כִּי אָנֹכִי שְׁלַחְתִּיךָ” – “And this, the Burning Bush, is the symbol of what you are about to become.” You will be “on fire,” filled with a superhuman energy that will not consume you. Why, then, did Moshe object an additional two times, even after Hashem’s explanation? Some commentaries suggest that Moshe couldn’t understand why Hashem would choose such a flawed “vessel” to be His representative. “I have a speech impediment! Wouldn’t you rather choose Your representative as someone who can at least speak properly?”

Moshe mirroring the burning bush

Hashem’s response to Moshe was, just to the contrary, I want you to be a complete receptacle of Divine power. Just as a dry bush is perhaps the most combustible of plants, I have chosen you to be the bearer of eloquent speech precisely because of your speech handicap. This will prove to Pharaoh and all the onlookers that you are coming not of your own strength, but from a Divine “fire” that was miraculously implanted within you. We can now understand Moshe’s third objection. Moshe viewed himself not only as a man with a speech impediment, but also as a person who, over the years, had become a peaceful shepherd, and who was anything but aggressive and belligerent. God had told Moshe (3:19): “I know that the king of Egypt will not give you permission to leave,” “וְלֹא בְּיָד חֲזָקָה” – “especially because he has such a strong grip [‘hand’] upon the people.” Wouldn’t it make more sense, reasoned Moshe, to have someone with an aggressive personality, someone who could counter the very strong “hand” of Pharaoh? This is why Moshe used the word “hand” in this last protest. This is when Hashem displayed anger to Moshe. Hashem had expected Moshe to be His sole representative, and that Moshe would be able to alter his personality, overcome his natural aversion to confrontation, and rise to the occasion. When Moshe demurred this third time, Hashem scolded him by telling him that if Moshe could not bring himself to aggressively stand up to Pharaoh by himself, then Aharon, Moshe’s brother, would need to assist him and provide the moral support and encouragement necessary to follow through on this difficult task.

Our destiny

This story is not just a lesson about Moshe. It’s a lesson for each of us. Rav Mordechai Lainer suggested that when asked, “Who am I, that I should act as the redeemer,” Moshe was really asking a more existential question: “What is within me? Is this really my destined path? Is this project my raison d'être, my reason for being?” This is sometimes the greatest paralyzing factor in one’s life. We never really know for sure whether the endeavor that I’m investing so much of my life into – whether it’s a career, a relationship, a community project, etc. – is really what I’m supposed to be doing. Perhaps someone else would be better served doing this, or perhaps it shouldn’t be done at all. Hashem’s response to Moshe, for every objection, was “כִּי־אֶהְיֶה עִמָּךְ” – “I am with you on this journey.” We should all view ourselves as receptacles for Hashem’s will. We will never know for sure “who we are” and what our true destiny is. All we can do is hope that even when the task seems to be formidable or even insurmountable, that Hashem will imbue us with a supernatural “fire” that will allow us to complete the task.

Getting it just right

The important thing is not to demur or ruminate over our options for too long of a period. Hesitation born from self-doubt and caution is fine for a brief period, but not for an extended period. When one is working on preparing a meal, if you don’t spend enough time on kitchen prep, if you don’t add enough spice, the food will come out bland. But if you spend too much time shaking that salt shaker, adding spice, and otherwise trying to “patchke” with your food, you will end up ruining it. Similarly, one can spend a lifetime deliberating over what to do, how to do it, when to do it, etc. But if we don’t pull the trigger at some point, we will have squandered the most important gift of existence, our life itself. May we all have the merit of discovering who we are. May Hashem continue to imbue our chayalim with the miraculous “fire” that impels them to victory. May we all do great things over the different chapters of our lives, so that we can help in ushering the ultimate Redemption, bb”a.

Fathers and Sons

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin In preparing his sons for his final words of wisdom and blessings, Yaakov summoned his sons. It’s quite curious that Yaakov presented a long monologue in inviting his sons for the blessings, a whole two verses (49:1-2): Yaakov called his sons and said, “Gather [Heb: הֵאָסְפוּ] and I will tell you what will befall you at the end of days. Assemble [Heb: הִקָּבְצוּ] and listen, sons of Yaakov, and listen to Yisrael, your father.” Why so much verbiage to simply gather his sons together? What is the difference between “gather” (הֵאָסְפוּ) and “assemble” (הִקָּבְצוּ)? Finally, why did the father call himself both “Yaakov” and “Yisrael” in this invitation? Notice that the verb of the first verse is Yaakov saying that he will “tell” his children what will be in the future. But the verb of the second verse is Yaakov saying to his sons that they should “listen” to him. When reading this as a father, I can relate. Sometimes, we may call our children over to tell them something, but noting that they may not be that interested in what we have to say, we caution them to listen carefully before saying what we’d like to say. There is obviously no way for us to know the nature and depth of the relationships that Yaakov shared with his sons, especially once Yoseph was discovered to be alive and the family made its way to Egypt. It would appear, however, that there were many unanswered questions, and the relationships were strained as a result. Imagine a father in that situation calling over his children, wishing to preach something profound about themselves and their future.

The insights of parents

It would be quite understandable if one or more of Yaakov’s children harbored the attitude: “My father’s never understood me all these years. He never heard my side of the story, never reconciled my behavior, and there’s so much unspoken between us. He now presumes to know me enough to tell me about my future?” How often do we as children feel that our parents don’t get us? How often do we as parents get the sense that our children feel that way about us? The part that the children don’t understand is that the parents were once children themselves. They often have insights into their children because they see how much their children resemble them when they were children. They recognize the inner conflicts, the unresolved problems, the emotional turmoil of their children, because they went through it when they were younger. Of course, the children don’t see that; all they see is a wiser, calmer, and older adult, and so they conclude that their parent couldn’t possibly understand the challenges they face. And that’s where they’d be mistaken. Yaakov called his sons initially to tell them to physically gather together (הֵאָסְפוּ), because he had something he needed to share with all of them. But then, in the second verse, knowing his children might harbor negative thoughts about his message, he said, “Assemble (הִקָּבְצוּ) yourselves and listen.” This was not a call to physically come together, but rather a plea to emotionally and mentally pay attention. Put aside your negative thoughts about what you think I know or don’t know about you. Let’s reconcile just for a moment because maybe something that I have to say may be insightful to your situation and who you are.

Understanding our children

According to R. Bechaye, the reason why the father used both his names Yaakov and Yisrael was because he was reminding them that he sired most of his children when his name was simply “Yaakov.” He only became the more noble, wise, and exalted “Yisrael” after his children were born. With this, we may understand what he was communicating to his sons: I do understand your inner demons. I was not always the man who lies before you today, wise and composed as I am on my deathbed. There was a time when I was filled with youthful vigor and impetuousness just as you may be today. I was Yaakov, grasping at the heel of life, trying to keep my head above water. You are my sons; as such, you carry within you so many of the characteristics that I possessed when I was your age. This is why you should listen to me, because you are “sons of Yaakov” – you’re just like I was so many years ago. Furthermore, take my words seriously because I am now Yisrael. You may think I don’t understand you, but realize that I have struggled my entire life (which is what the name “Yisrael” means). I have struggled with my own demons and with others’ demons. Through that process, I have learned how to maneuver the difficult straits of life. I cannot say that I’m 100% proud of everything I’ve done, but I can say that I’ve developed wisdom over these years and can now impart to you some of the things I’ve learned over the years through my struggles. Use that wisdom because it will help you for the future.

Father and Son

One of my favorite songs is “Father and Son” by Cat Stevens (1970). Its lyrics are simple but hard-hitting. The song describes an exchange between a father and a son, where the father tries to give his son fatherly advice, and the son, frustrated, concludes that his father just doesn’t understand: The father says: It's not time to make a change; just relax, take it easy. You're still young, that's your fault, there's so much you have to know. Find a girl, settle down, if you want you can marry. Look at me, I am old, but I'm happy. I was once like you are now, and I know that it's not easy to be calm when you've found something going on. But take your time, think a lot, think of everything you've got. For you will still be here tomorrow, but your dreams may not. The son angrily says to himself: How can I try to explain? When I do he turns away again. It's always been the same, same old story. From the moment I could talk, I was ordered to listen. Now there's a way, and I know that I have to go away. I know I have to go.

Reassuring our children

Fathers and sons have been struggling and misunderstanding each other from time immemorial. Yaakov tried his best to reassure his children that he did understand them. He granted each son what he felt each one needed to hear. For some, his words were harsh rebuke, and for others, they were soothing blessings. But Yaakov always spoke out of the love that a father has for his son. May we all learn from the words of our fathers and mothers. One of the most touching scenes from the war in Gaza is the time right around 7 pm, where each chayal is calling their children to wish them a good night, and showering them with the unique and heartwarming love of a parent who cannot be there. It is that love that Yaakov sought to shower upon his children. May all parents have the wisdom to offer words that will be heard. Moms and dads, take some extra time to “bless” your children. If you don’t have children, bless those whom you can positively influence. Give them your own words of praise and hope on Friday night before blessing them, and find other times to engage with them. This way, both fathers and sons will see the ultimate Redemption, bb”a.

The Economics of Living Jewishly

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin By the time Yoseph had settled his family, the years of famine intensified in Egypt. Yoseph devised a system that would enable Egyptian society to pull itself out of the famine. He took the grain that he had amassed during the years of plenty, and distributed it to each Egyptian family. In exchange, each Egyptian had to forfeit his property to the state. Now that all real estate belonged to Pharaoh, Yoseph was in a position to impose a grain tax upon every farmer. The new policy was that for every five bushels of grain harvested, one bushel had to be returned to the government, and the other four bushels could be kept by the individual farmer and his family. In essence, it was a 20% tax on all new agriculture (see 47:23-24). This system was implemented not only during the years of famine, but for all perpetuity. This was a very industrious and wise way of keeping the government strong and its treasury well-stocked. But why do you and I need to know this? Why does the Torah dedicate space to Yoseph’s economic plan for Egyptian society? Furthermore, why the arbitrary tax of 20%? What does that number signify?

Consumerism and society

We suggest that Yoseph was planning for the future of his family’s long sojourn in Egypt. He knew that in order for his family to spend generations in Egypt, there would need to be changes in the societal structure that would enable his family to spiritually survive the allures and the harmful values that were deeply embedded within Egyptian society. One of the values that Egyptians held dear was that of consumerism. They were very into indulging themselves in all manner of pleasure and luxury. They viewed it as their right to live fatly off the land and exploit the fruits of their efforts to the fullest extent. In 1904, in his essay, The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism, Max Weber published his findings that religion played a significant role in the success of capitalism. Weber argued that the only way for capitalism to succeed was if members of that society acted with self-restraint, based on a religious value that advocated living an austere and modest life. A particular strand of Protestantism, know as Calvinism, emphasized this value. When Calvinists were successful, instead of spending their hard-earned money on luxury items, they reinvested the money into their businesses. Making money and reinvesting it in order to make more money was the origin of the values and spirit of capitalism. (In fact, one of the reasons why we’re seeing certain systemic collapses within our western capitalist system is because capitalism can only succeed when individual consumers behave with a certain degree of restraint and humility. When hedonism becomes the prevailing ethic, when people stop saving and reinvesting their money, and when people wantonly exploit the other, capitalism begins to collapse.)

The wisdom in taking the fifth

Ancient Egypt did not share in that Calvinist work ethic. Yoseph realized that the Egyptian hedonistic value system would be detrimental for his family. He wanted, in some way, to detach Egyptians from their sense of entitlement, and therefore took possession of their land. By taxing their land, they would be reminded that the land was only on loan to them. This also instilled within everyone the values of restraint and humility. Yoseph believed that this socio-economic change would help his family come to the same conclusion: We aren’t the arbiters of our own destiny. We own nothing in this life, not even our own bodies. Hashem runs the world and owns all the property (Ps. 24:1): “לַד' הָאָרֶץ וּמְלוֹאָהּ”. – “The whole world and its contents are God’s.” If we look at the verses carefully, we’ll note that there was a wisdom in Yoseph taking a fifth of every farmer’s grain. Yoseph professed that every family was entitled to four portions of their yield to correspond to four essential needs for grain within every family (in 47:23): (1) you need grain to use as seed for planting your fields; (2) you need grain to eat and nourish yourselves so that you may work; (3) you need grain for your “house,” i.e., everyone is entitled to a silo of grain to provide a sense of security and to barter for other goods, such as clothing and shelter; (4) finally, you need grain to feed your children who are too young to fend for themselves. Yoseph felt that once the four essential needs for grain were met, he could take a remaining portion, the fifth portion, for Pharaoh.

Directing money towards essentials

I believe that there is a similar message, not only for Egyptian society, but for each of us. Sefer Charedim (16th cent.), quoting Rabbi Ovadya of Bartenura, states that every Jew should spend a fifth of their income on charity and other mitzvos. That is, after you’ve spent your hard-earned income on the essentials of living: (1) money that needs to be reinvested in your business, (2) money to buy groceries, (3) money to pay for other essentials such as clothing, rent, and utilities, and (4) money to raise your children, the remaining “fifth” of your income should go to acts of charity, kindness, and other mitzvos. He cites our verse, of Yoseph taking a fifth for Pharaoh, as an allusion to this, since the word “Pharaoh” is connected to the word “פרעון”, paying a debt back to God for all that He has given us. That is, despite the often economic drain of living life as an Orthodox Jew, one of the benefits of spending so much money on doing mitzvot is that this in itself reminds us that the money was never ours to begin with.

A lesson for the brothers

If we are correct, this would explain an uncanny wordplay that appears in the Yoseph story. In last week’s parsha, before Yoseph revealed himself to his brothers, he seated them all for a meal after they brought his brother Binyamin down to Egypt with them. The Torah states that he gave each brother a portion of food, drink, and gifts, but that the portion given to Binyamin at the table was five times that of the other brothers (43:34): וַיִּשָּׂא מַשְׂאֹת מֵאֵת פָּנָיו אֲלֵהֶם וַתֵּרֶב מַשְׂאַת בִּנְיָמִן מִמַּשְׂאֹת כֻּלָּם חָמֵשׁ יָדוֹת וַיִּשְׁתּוּ וַיִּשְׁכְּרוּ עִמּוֹ The verbiage is too similar to our parsha’s wording of Pharaoh’s fifth portion to be a coincidence. It may be that Yoseph was illustrating a lesson to his brothers, using Binyamin, his full brother, as a surrogate for a younger version of himself: What you did to me was an attempt to have it all. You felt that you were the architects of your own destiny, and that you could and would do whatever ruthless act it took in order to succeed in life. You saw me as a threat to your plans, and so eliminated me. You failed to remember that the fifth portion belongs to Hashem, because that’s all He asks of us to remind ourselves that He’s in control of everything. Remember the fifth portion, brothers. Remember that it’s Hashem world, so that you won’t destroy another person ever again in your ambition to succeed.

The blessing that makes life worth living

No doubt, it’s expensive to live life as an Orthodox Jew. I often wonder if ba’alei teshuva and converts fully appreciate the economic realities of this lifestyle. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Spending one’s income on things like Torah education, kosher food, Shabbos and Yom Tov celebration with family, honoring one’s parents, etc., is what makes life worth living. These expenditures also remind us that the income we’ve been blessed with is Hashem’s gift to us, no matter how hard we may have worked for it. He gives us our lives and all we have, so the least we can do is return a fifth to Him. May we succeed in living lives filled with that sense of joy and purpose. Perhaps we can also learn a bit from our Calvinist cousins and try to live modestly as well. May our efforts at expending our income for mitzvos bring us ever closer to the Redemption, bb”a.

Envisioning Peace in the World

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin Before the war against Hamas, the Arab states were expressing more and more kinship with Israel. We anticipate that once the war ends, one of the positive byproducts of this tragic war is that the Arab world will only further distance itself from Palestinian extremism and we will see Saudi Arabia and other Arab states join the Abraham Accords. If we really believe in the Messianic process, if we are cognizant that the State of Israel is “reishit tzemichat ge’ulateinu,” the first budding of our Redemption, then it behooves to bear witness to new signs, 75 years after the founding of the State, of the Redemption process continuing along a positive trajectory. When reading of the violent strategy of the Hasmoneans, the engagement in guerilla warfare in order to take back the Temple, one sees a continuation of the violent stories of our biblical ancestors. In Parshat Vayishlach, we read about the violent vengeance that Shimon and Levi took upon the people of Shechem because of the disgrace of their sister, Dinah. Even though Yaakov criticized them for their behavior, their act resulted in instilling fear in the hearts of their neighbors, ensuring that no one would harass their family again.

Stories of warfare & national interests

We know that Pinchas performed a violent act of zealotry in order to abate a plague, and he was praised by Hashem for his behavior. Joshua used swords and chariots to conquer the land of Israel, and so many other stories of warfare throughout Tanakh feature violence as a means of achieving the Jewish people’s national interests and destiny. When placed in the backdrop of these stories, the Hasmoneans’ behavior was not only justified, but deserves to be praised and upheld as an example of Jewish heroism and valor. At the same time, we know that one of the features of the Messianic Age is that it will be a time when “swords will be beaten into ploughshares,” as the prophet Isaiah pronounced (2:4). “לֹא־יִשָּׂא גוֹי אֶל־גּוֹי חֶרֶב וְלֹא־יִלְמְדוּ עוֹד מִלְחָמָה” – “Nations will not raise the sword against each other, and they will know war no more.” Rav A.Y. Kook was a Messianic evolutionist. That is, he very much believed that the Messianic Age is a gradual process, and that we should continually look for signs of a continuous sprouting forth of more events that will bring us to a complete fruition of mankind’s perfection. We should be looking at our modern times, when Israel is succeeding in making peace with its sworn enemies, through the Abraham Accords, as yet another progression in this evolutionary scale. Rav Kook writes about the Messianic Age: “In the absence of strife and fighting, every human effort will be exclusively focused on the exalted, with the objective of increasing acts of kindness and justice, and of knowing God. Man’s life cycle will not be motivated by jealousy of others, but rather by a fierce love of God and His ways. ‘They will follow God like a roaring lion!’ (Hosea 11:10).”

Yoseph the master politician

Yoseph was a man who wielded great political might, and did so without ever lifting a violent hand against anyone. His efforts focused on politics and finance as a means of achieving his goals. Look at how he was able to rise to political greatness within Egypt as a result of his cunning, and was able to turn a potential enemy of the Jews into a great friend. What’s more, he succeeded in cementing this relationship by lining the coffers of the Egyptian treasury with great wealth, as a result of his selling the grain of Egypt to both Egyptians and the rest of the world. When Yaakov was on his deathbed, he praised Yoseph and informed him that Yoseph’s inheritance portion would be doubled among his brothers. He expressed this in very cryptic words (48:22): וַאֲנִי נָתַתִּי לְךָ שְׁכֶם אַחַד עַל־אַחֶיךָ אֲשֶׁר לָקַחְתִּי מִיַּד הָאֱמֹרִי בְּחַרְבִּי וּבְקַשְׁתִּי I have given you an additional portion above your brothers. It is a portion that I took from the Emorite with my sword and my bow.

Yaakov the pacifist

What asset did Yaakov acquire through violence? We have no biblical record of Yaakov ever engaging in battle or using violence as a means of acquiring wealth! The Rabbinic texts debate this issue, and some conclude that although the Torah does not record the story explicitly, we can adduce from this verse that Yaakov did engage in violence at some point in his life. One Midrash suggests that after his sons Shimon and Levi attacked the people of Shechem, Yaakov realized that if he didn’t help them, they’d be outnumbered and would suffer from the other nations’ retaliation. He therefore took up his own sword and battle gear, and killed even more Shechemites than his two sons combined. However, this is not the majority opinion. The Talmud (TB Bava Basra 123a) confirms that Yaakov was a pacifist: “Did Yaakov ever take anything with a sword and bow? Does it not say (Ps. 44:7), ‘I will not place my trust in my bow, nor will my sword save me’?! Rather, “my sword” really means prayer, and “my bow” really means supplication.” The Abarbanel explains this wordplay: Yaakov was explaining to Yoseph how every person has weapons in his or her arsenal. Some use brute force to get the job done, but that’s not me. When I needed to acquire property, I paid for it in cash, and when I needed to accomplish other things in life, such as attaining the first-born rights from my brother Esav, I used non-aggressive means to accomplish my goals. I was NOT like my sons Shimon and Levi, whose weapons were literally swords and bows. Rather, my weapons were my wallet and my tongue. It is for this reason, Yoseph, that I grant you this extra portion, because you have chosen the same path as your father, as witnessed by your actions in Egypt.

It's all part of the redemptive process

Based on this, we might suggest that while we wholeheartedly celebrate the miracle of Chanukah, we must also reflect upon the fact that this was a pre-Messianic victory. Israel’s IDF is fighting a moral and just war, and b”H we see great success in our efforts to squelch the enemy. But we look forward to the day when our victories will be accomplished through peace and diplomacy instead of through warfare. When the world is able to beat their swords into ploughshares, when we can sit at the table and break bread with our previously aggressive neighbors, this will be a sign that the Messiah is upon us. This is not to say that we should be Pollyannaish in our outlook, to look at the world with rose-colored glasses and assume that everything will be okay. Israel will not be able to beat its “swords” into ploughshares any time soon. The prophet says that first the other nations will do that, and then and only then will we be able to do the same. There is still a place for Hasmoneans and IDF warriors in Israel today. But to ignore the positive changes taking place is to live in the past and to deny that this process of Redemption is evolving. May we see the day when the art of war is forgotten from our world. We are far from that idyllic future, but let us hope that if we don’t see it, then our children or our grandchildren will be living in that glorious Messianic age, may it happen bb”a.

We Cannot Abandon Our Brother to the Pit

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin Can you imagine if the Chanukah story were to take place today? Would the Hasmoneans be called heroes or terrorists? Would they be lauded for saving the Temple from defilement, or be derided as religious zealots who were intolerant to modernization? Let’s try and apply a lesson from “bayamim hahem,” from those days, and see if we can apply them to “bizman hazeh,” to our times. Only one section of Talmud discusses Chanukah in any real depth, in the second chapter of Tractate Shabbat. In the course of discussing the laws of Chanukah, the Talmud cites a halakhah taught in the name of Rabbi Tanchum (TB Shabbot 22a): “If one places their Menorah higher than 20 cubits above ground level, it is invalid.” It is necessary for people on the street to be able to see the Menorah, and if the Menorah is so high that no one can see it, one has not fulfilled the mitzvah. The Gemara then immediately launches into another statement of Rabbi Tanchum, which seems to be completely disconnected from the previous statement, and has nothing at all to do with Chanukah: The Torah in our portion describes the pit into which the brothers threw Yoseph (37:24) “The pit was empty; there was no water in it.” “If the pit was empty, doesn’t that automatically imply that there was no water in it?! Derive from this that the pit wasn’t completely empty. There was no water in it, but there were snakes and scorpions in it.”

Imposing beliefs on others

What’s going on? Why does the Gemara feel that this non sequitur is relevant amidst a discussion of Hilchot Chanukah? Let’s consider the condition of our society today to see if we can find another answer. There’s a common refrain in today’s culture: What gives people the moral authority to impose their beliefs on others? Isn’t it annoying when someone tries to impose their beliefs upon you? Isn’t it annoying when another Jew comes along and tells you you’re not observing Judaism correctly? No one likes to be chastised or condescendingly told they’re not religious enough. “Why don’t they mind their own business?” I can only imagine the resentment that some progressive Jews must have felt upon seeing the Hasmoneans violently reject the Greeks and their “modern modifications” to our holy places. “Who are you to tell me how to practice Judaism? I’m happy with the Greek innovations; why are you throwing us backwards?” This is one of the reasons why Hashem introduced an overt miracle to the Chanukah story. When the priests brought out the Menorah to the public and showed everyone how the oil of one day miraculously kept on going, they were quelling the internal protests of those Jews who felt that the Hasmonean revolt was wrong. The Hasmoneans accomplished their message by demonstrating to others that Hashem was with them in restoring the Temple to its traditional mode.

The Chanukiah: A message of love

When we light the Menorah and place it in our windows or doorways, we are unquestionably sending a message to the entire world. But we’re also sending a message to our fellow Jews. That message is one of love: I care for you and I want to share my traditions with you. You may feel that this is an archaic practice that commemorates something that doesn’t resonate at all with you, but I wish to show you differently. Chanukah is still relevant in my life and it can be in yours, too. “Tradition” is not a dirty word, but is something you should embrace with me. I’m not chastising or berating, merely sharing my light with you and teaching by example. But still: “Why don’t you mind your own business?” Because if I don’t share my Menorah light with you, in all likelihood you will succumb to the prevailing attitudes of the world around you, which is to reject God, reject religion, and reject tradition. If I don’t care about you, who will? When the brothers initially thought to kill Yoseph outright, Revuen protested and suggested that they instead throw him in a pit. Some commentaries understand that Reuven was essentially arguing: We should not proactively harm Yoseph. Let’s just throw him in the pit and leave it up to God to decide what his fate will be. This way, the blood will not be on our hands. Even though Reuven only made his point as a straw argument in order to later save Yoseph from the pit, the other brothers thought his argument was sound.

The light of the Chanukah candles

But this is where they were wrong. “The pit was empty of water, but it still contained snakes and scorpions.” That is, don’t think that by being passive and leaving someone to their own devices you can feel you’re innocent of any wrongdoing. When there’s no water in the pit, when there’s not Torah in the general society, you are condemning the other to be indoctrinated by the prevailing values of where you have abandoned them. That is why we all have a mandate to reach out and try to help others find their way. I can’t just say, “It’s not my business, let them do what they want.” By leaving them in the waterless “pit” of the outside world, I’m consigning them to be consumed by the “snakes and scorpions” of that world. Just as I have to share my Menorah light with others, I must be aware that if I don’t share my light, if I light it too “high” for others to access, I’m condemning my brother or sister to potential oblivion in a world that disdains that light. That is why Rabbi Tanchum’s two statements align with each other, and why it’s no coincidence that we always read the Yoseph story around Chanukah. We are our brother’s keeper, and we must continue to care and try to seek our brother and sister out, and bring them home to the religion of their parents and grandparents. As Yoseph so properly stated when looking for his brothers in the field (37:16), “אֶת־אַחַי אָנֹכִי מְבַקֵּשׁ” – “I just seek my brethren.”

Sharing the light

We are losing Jews to assimilation at a precipitous rate. It’s not only Jews from non-Orthodox homes, but young Jews from our own homes are also checking out. We need to do whatever we can to seek out our brethren. That is one of the integral messages of Chanukah, to share our light with others. One of the silver linings to the very dark cloud of the Gaza war is that Jews have become much more unified. One of the focal points of that reunification has been a return to tradition. Jews realize that if the world hates us, we need to return to the source, to our origin point, and regain whatever it is that made us a people in the first place. We are also seeing a reduction in the resentment factor that had turned people away from tradition in the past. The light that emanates from every Jewish home is palpable, and we are feeling each other’s love. May our living the Torah by example provide ample light to others and bring the light of the ultimate Redemption, bb”a.