Hamaayan / The Torah Spring Edited by Shlomo Katz Miketz Volume XVIII, No. 10 2 Tevet 5764 December 27, 2003 Sponsored by the Vogel family in memory of mother and grandmother, Miriam bat Yehuda Laib (Mary Kalkstein) a"h Sandie & Arthur Rosenthol on the 4th yartzeit of Edith Baumhaft a"h Today's Learning: Negaim 5:2-3 O.C. 139:5-7 Daf Yomi (Bavli): Menachot 82 Daf Yomi (Yerushalmi): Yevamot 45 Maharal asks: Why did Chazal see fit to establish a new holiday (Chanukah) to thank Hashem for our being able to light the menorah in the Bet Hamikdash? We can understand making a holiday to thank Hashem for our personal salvation, but the mitzvot are performed for Him, so-to-speak! Why should we thank Hashem for letting us perform them? The essence of the war between the Jews and the Greco-Syrians, Maharal explains, was a spiritual battle between Greek wisdom and the Torah. The Greeks sought to establish that their wisdom and their way of life were supreme. The Torah was the competitor to their wisdom, and this required them to try and distance us from the Torah. Our Sages teach that the world was created on the condition that the Jews receive the Torah. Had the Greeks succeeded in uprooting the Torah, the entire world literally would have come to an end. Thus, the fact that a miracle occurred and the Jews were able to perform a mitzvah signifies the victory of the Torah over Greek wisdom, and therefore signifies that the Jews, and the world, would continue to exist. This, surely, is a reason to thank Hashem. Alternatively, Chanukah actually commemorates the military victory of the Jews over the Greeks. However, the Jews were not sure whether their victory really was a miracle; after all, sometimes the underdogs win because of circumstances or luck. The miracle of the oil was merely a sign from Hashem that He had been with the Jews. (Ner Mitzvah) ******** "They said to one another, `Indeed we are guilty concerning our brother inasmuch as we saw his heartfelt anguish when he pleaded with us and we paid no heed; that is why this anguish has come upon us.' "Reuven spoke up to them, saying, `Did I not speak to you saying, "Do not sin against the boy"? -- but you would not listen'." (42:21-22) The above verses describe the reaction of Yosef's brothers when the Egyptian viceroy (i.e., Yosef) accused them of being spies. R' Aharon Kotler z"l observes that Yosef's brothers did not express regret for condemning Yosef to death or to slavery. They had believed, and they continued to believe, that Yosef posed a threat to the developing Jewish nation, and, as such, it was necessary to "get rid" of him. However, Yosef's brothers did regret their callousness when Yosef had pleaded for mercy. They viewed their present troubles as a punishment for that hardheartedness. Reuven alone thought that the brothers were wrong about Yosef. Ironically, it was Reuven who had the most to lose if Yosef lived, because Yosef (the firstborn of Rachel) was destined to claim the birthright in place of Reuven (the firstborn of Leah). Yet, the very dream that so angered Yosef's brothers was precisely what caused Reuven to love Yosef. Specifically, Yosef dreamed that eleven stars - his eleven brothers - bowed down to him. Most of his brothers resented this, but to Reuven, the dream was good news. Previously, Reuven had been distanced by Yaakov because of a sin (see Bereishit 35:22 and Rashi), but the fact that Yosef saw eleven stars in his dream meant that Yosef, at least, did count Reuven among the brothers. Why did Reuven reach a different conclusion about Yosef than did his other brothers? R' Kotler explains that this happened because they started their analyses from different points. The brothers (other than Reuven) saw themselves as Yosef's equals. They were humble people, but they took pride in their ability to serve Hashem (see Divrei Hayamim II 17:6). Therefore, when it appeared to them that Yosef possessed the trait of haughtiness, when it appeared that he considered himself a better servant of Hashem than they were, it offended them. Reuven, however, did not consider himself his brothers' equal, for he knew he had sinned. Since he considered himself less worthy than Yosef (and the other brothers), he was not offended by Yosef's dreams. To the contrary, he was able to see good in the dreams (as explained above). We, too, can learn a lesson from this, R' Kotler says. There are two ways of looking at events. Often, the conclusions one reaches are determined by where one starts. In particular, recognizing that another person may be greater than oneself can influence an entire chain of events. (Mishnat Rabbi Aharon I, p.235) ******** A Kiddush Hashem at Valley Forge (A Chanukah Story by an Anonymous Veteran of the Continental Army) Chanukah 1777. A bitter winter. The cold is terrible. We are sitting in Valley Forge and waiting. For what? I don't know. Maybe for better days ahead. I am the only Jew here. Maybe there are other Jews among us, but I haven't seen any. We are starving for bread. We don't have clothes to wear, nor shoes for our feet. Most of the soldiers are cursing George Washington for making war on England. There are those among us who want to see his [Washington's] downfall. I, however, believe that he is in the right. We must expel the British from America. She [Britain] wishes to take everything she lays her eyes on. I am completely loyal to George Washington, although we suffer here greatly. More than once I have seen him walking through the camp at night between the rows of sleeping soldiers. He looks with pity at the soldiers who are suffering from the cold. Sometimes he goes over to a soldier and covers him as a father would cover his son. Sometimes the hunger and the cold oppress us until death's door. But I do not curse General Washington, who is fighting for America's freedom. At moments like this I think of my father in Poland. I think of all his suffering at the hands of the cruel poritz / Polish landlord. I remember how I saw as a child that my father had to dance before the poritz. What an awful sight it was! My father was wearing the coat of a white bear, and he had to dance like a bear before the poritz and his guests. How immense was the pain, and how great the humiliation! My father danced like a bear, and the landlords laughed at the sight. I resolved in my heart that I would never dance before the poritz as my father had. Later, I fled to America. Here I am lying at Valley Forge. They say that George Washington will fall and will not rise again, but I don't believe it. I lay down at night and pray for him. Then the first night of Chanukah arrives. On this very night, years ago, I left my father's home. My father gave me a menorah then, and he said, "When you kindle the Chanukah lights, my son, they will light the way for you." Since then, the menorah has been like an amulet to me. Wherever I went, I took it with me. I did not know what to do; should I light the menorah here among the gentiles, or not? I decided to wait until they were all asleep. When they were asleep, I took out my father's menorah, kindled the first light and said the berachot. I looked at the lights and I saw my father and mother's house. I saw my father dancing like a bear before the poritz, and I saw my mother's eyes filled with tears. My heart filled with pain, and I burst into tears like a small child. I resolved then that, for the sake of my parents and my brothers and sisters in Poland, I would help George Washington make America into a free country, to a place of refuge for my father and brothers who are suffering over there at the hands of the poritz. Suddenly, I felt a gentle hand on my head. I looked up, and it was he, himself, in all his glory standing there. Yes, General Washington was standing over me. He asked: "Why are you crying, soldier? Are you cold?" Pain and compassion filled his voice. I couldn't bear his pain, and I jumped up. I forgot that I was a soldier standing before a general, and I spoke to him from the heart, as a son speaks to his father. "General, sir!" I said. "I am crying for your victory. I know that with G-d's help we will win. Today they [the British] are strong, but tomorrow they will fall, for justice is on our side. We want to be free in this country. We want to build a home here for all those who are fleeing from lords everywhere, for all those who are suffering across the ocean. The poritzim will not rule here! They will fall and you will rise!" The general shook my hand firmly. "Thank you, soldier," he said, and he sat down on the ground next to the menorah. "What is this candelabra?" he asked. I told him, "I brought this from my father's house. Tonight, the Jews all over the world are lighting Chanukah candles for the holiday when the great miracle happened." The Chanukah lights shone in Washington's eyes, and he exclaimed with joy, "You are Jewish - from the descendants of the prophets! And you say that we will win?!" "Yes, sir!" I answered confidently. "We will win, just like the Maccabees, for our sake and the sake of those who come after us, to build a new nation here and a new life." The General rose, his face shining. He shook my hand and disappeared into the darkness. * * * Years passed, and it was again the first night of Chanukah. I was at home on Broome Street in New York, and my Chanukah menorah was burning in my window. Suddenly, I heard a knock on my door. I opened the door, and I was taken aback; my general, President George Washington, was standing in the doorway. "There is the wonderful light, the light of hope for the Jewish people," he called out with joy as he looked at the Chanukah menorah on the window. He put his hand on my shoulder, and he said, "This light and your beautiful words kindled a light in my heart that night. You will soon receive a token of honor from the United States together with all the heroes of Valley Forge. Tonight, however, you will receive this memento." With that, he hung a medallion on my chest, and shook my hand. Tears filled my eyes, and I could not open my mouth. The President shook my hand again and left. I awoke as if from a fantastic dream, and I looked at the medallion. On it was a beautiful picture of a menorah with the first light lit. Underneath was written: "A token of gratitude for the light of your candle. George Washington." (Pardes Ha'chanukah p.320) [Postscript: Thank you R' Kalman Winter for sharing this story. R' Winter reported that when he told this story on a previous occasion, one of the members of the audience reported that she had seen the medallion in a museum.]