Friday is the last day of Chanukah, and we enter Shabbat on its heels. Upon reflection, Chanukah is one of those holidays where ignorance is bliss. We celebrate the miracle of the oil lasting 8 days and the formidable Greek army falling to an ill-equipped band of Jewish Maccabees. We eat latkes, jelly donuts, and play dreidel.
But if we look deeper into the story of Chanukah story, we find the harsher reality: Jewish infighting remained unresolved, we never regained full control over Israel from the Greeks, and the Romans eventually sent us into our current exile. Talk about putting a damper on your latkes!
But, you may say, at least we have the miracle of the oil, right? Well not so much. We revisit the commentary of the Pnei Yehoshua, mentioned last year, who asks a devastating question about this cherished element of our celebration. He wonders whether the miracle of Chanukah was even necessary because there is a rule that “Tumah Hutra B’tzibur” impurity will not nullify a mitzvah performed in a public forum.
In other words, it was so important to hold services for the public, that the Torah sometimes waived the requirement of using pure oil, especially in cases where no pure oil was available. The menorah lighting in the Beit Hamikdash was considered a public ritual, exempting them from the necessity of using pure oil. This perspective challenges the significance of the entire Chanukah miracle and, consequently, questions the entire basis of our beloved holiday.
The Pnei Yehoshua conducts a lengthy analysis of this challenge, but he doesn’t find any way around it – there doesn’t seem to be any valid reason why they could not use impure oil in the Beit Hamikdash. Nonetheless, the Pnei Yehoshua provides a new perspective on the miracle, using what I always thought to be a concept from Pirkei Avot:
חֲבִיבִין יִשְׂרָאֵל שֶׁנִּתַּן לָהֶם כְּלִי חֶמְדָּה
Beloved are Israel in that a lovely vessel was given to them. [Avot 3:14]
The Mishna conveys that God, out of love for the Jewish people, has bestowed upon them the extraordinary gift of a "kli chemdah" – a "lovely vessel." Commentaries elaborate that this term signifies the Torah. At a superficial level, referring to the Torah as a "lovely vessel" may appear unusual. However, the Mishnah clarifies that God intended to underscore our status as His beloved children. In doing so, He took an additional step to explicitly declare the Torah as a special gift to us.
חִבָּה יְתֵרָה נוֹדַעַת לָהֶם שֶׁנִּתַּן לָהֶם כְּלִי חֶמְדָּה שֶׁבּוֹ נִבְרָא הָעוֹלָם
Especially beloved are they for it was made known to them that the lovely vessel with which the world had been created, was given to them
The Torah may be a compendium of laws, but it is also much more than that – it is the gift that reflects our special relationship with God.
In a similar vein, the Pnei Yehoshua concludes that through the performance of the oil miracle, God aimed to express His love for the Jewish people, emphasizing "חֲבִיבִין ישראל." This was achieved by undertaking an unnecessary action, in other words, by making a special gesture or gift, and that gift manifested as the miracle and holiday of Chanukah.
The same message resonates in our Parsha, intricately intertwined with the celebration of Chanukah. Joseph is kabbalistically linked with Chanukah, and it is not coincidental that the Parshiot about him consistently align with this holiday. The Parsha recounts a peculiar incident: the brothers plead with Jacob to allow them to return to Egypt with their younger brother Benjamin to obtain food as per Joseph's order. At first, Jacob denies permission due to worries about Benjamin's safety. When he eventually acquiesces, the midrash elucidates that Jacob offered his sons guidance and specifically directed them to present small, individually wrapped gift baskets to Joseph. These baskets contained balsam, honey, pistachios, almonds, and other treats—reminiscent of a modest box of Godiva chocolates one might bring when visiting someone's home.
Considering the dire circumstances of their return to Egypt, such small gifts seem oddly inappropriate, and some commentators question the wisdom of schlepping these seemingly insignificant gifts to the leader of the world’s superpower. Why would this great and powerful king be interested in their almonds and peanuts? Initially, it might seem that Yaakov had gone nuts for wanting them to bring nuts. However, the brothers unquestioningly went along with this plan.
Upon encountering Joseph in Egypt, the brothers attempt to return the money found in their bag from their first trip, but the palace steward declines, saying, "I already received your money; don't worry, God must have given you a gift." Immediately after this scene, they quickly present Joseph with the Godiva chocolates, so to speak.
Jacob had realized from the outset that this king was not typical; he was a sensitive monarch who nurtured relationships. The brothers had initially viewed Joseph as a typical intimidating ruler, but then they realized that Joseph was a leader in the same mold as God — a leader who chooses connection with his people over manipulative power plays.
And that's why he was called Yosef. One meaning of his name is to add on; as soon as Rachel was blessed with Joseph’s birth, she was already asking for another son. Rachel was certain that she was a beloved child of God, and when you feel that “chavivut,” that sense of being beloved, you can dare to ask for more.
Contrast this with Leah’s reaction when she had her fourth child, even though she was only supposed to have three. She named him Yehudah because she recognized that she was receiving “yoteir michelki,” more than her share, more than she deserved. Yehuda grew up to have a stern perception of God as a ruler you must obey. In contrast, Joseph developed a much more expansive understanding of God’s kingship; that God is not only “malkeinu” or “our king” but also “Avinu” or “our father.” Joseph, who was called “avreich” – the “soft father figure” by the Egyptians, modeled his kingdom on God’s example.
This brings us back to Chanukah. Not only was the miracle deemed unnecessary, but the mitzvah we observe today is also considered unnecessary.
…תָּנוּ רַבָּנַן: מִצְוַת חֲנוּכָּה, נֵר אִישׁ וּבֵיתוֹ. וְהַמְהַדְּרִין, נֵר לְכׇל אֶחָד וְאֶחָד. וְהַמְהַדְּרִין מִן הַמְהַדְּרִין
The Sages taught in a baraita: The basic mitzvah of Hanukkah is each day to have a light kindled by a person, the head of the household, for himself and his household. And the mehadrin, i.e., those who are meticulous in the performance of mitzvot, kindle a light for everyone in the household. And the mehadrin min hamehadrin, who are even more meticulous, adjust the number of lights daily [Shabbat 21b]
The Gemara tells us that the only requirement on Chanukah is to light one candle. The mehadrin, those who are extra meticulous, light a candle for each member of the household. And the mehadrin min hamehadrin, the extra super level, is our current halachic practice – each night, we add one more candle. No other mitzvah is presented in this fashion, with a hierarchy of choices. So why is Chanukah treated like this?
There are two perspectives on these levels of Mehadrin observance. On one hand, you can consider mehadrin min hamehadrin in the context of the kosher industry, where it signifies a more stringent kosher observance. On the other hand, we can glean from Rashi's explanation (on the Rif in Mesechet Shabbat) that the term mehadrin, derived from its root word hadar, can be understood by examining how it is used concerning an etrog:
וּלְקַחְתֶּם לָכֶם בַּיּוֹם הָרִאשׁוֹן פְּרִי עֵץ הָדָר
On the first day, you shall take the product of hadar trees
Here hadar means not strict, but beautiful. At the level of mehadrin min hamehadrin, the candles, and the entire household become more beautiful.
It is disheartening that, in the name of religion, we often distort the word for beauty to mean strictness. God is not merely concerned with the bottom line, and deep down, we all recognize this truth. While adhering to the intricate details of halacha is undoubtedly important, we must also be mindful that excessive rigidity can have the opposite effect, dampening the spirit of our relationships.
This harsh approach to religion is unfortunately pervasive, observed not only among extremists within various faiths but notably evident in the religious practices of our adversaries. These groups often rigidly enforce a limited spectrum of acceptable behaviors, vehemently opposing any divergence in opinion, belief, or lifestyle. Consequently, these societies stifle creativity and hinder individual aspirations, a stark contrast to the spirit of the Torah, which advocates for openness and embraces constructive debate.
In our prayers, we yearn for a world that embraces what we know to be true: a compassionate conception of God—a Creator who prioritizes relationships over differences and promotes a more adaptable way of life. Chanukah's profound message emphasizes these values, making it an indispensable part of Jewish identity. It is this essence of Chanukah that is a critical takeaway for the Jewish people, and the reason why it is the holiday that makes us beautiful.
Shabbat Shalom,
Eliezer Hirsch