And he said to them, “No, you have come to see the nakedness of the land [Ervat Haaretz] !” And they replied, “We your servants were twelve brothers, sons of one man in the land of Canaan; the youngest, however, is now with our father, and one is no longer.” (Genesis 42, 12-13)
This week’s Parsha contains an intriguing exchange between Joseph and his brothers before they discover his true identity. Joseph, the viceroy of Egypt, accuses them of espionage. The brothers respond by saying שְׁנֵ֣ים עָשָׂר֩ עֲבָדֶ֨יךָ אַחִ֧ים ׀ אֲנַ֛חְנוּ בְּנֵ֥י אִישׁ־אֶחָ֖ד We, your servants, are twelve brothers, sons of one man. This reply is puzzling. The fact that they were brothers seems wholly irrelevant to the accusation that they were spies. After all, couldn’t they be spies and brothers simultaneously?
I think the holiday of Chanukah can shed light (pardon the pun!) on this puzzling exchange because Chanukah is intimately connected with the idea of a home. The mitzvah of lighting the menorah each night is unique because, in a sense, it is placed primarily on the household instead of the individual. The Talmud in Tractate Shabbat states that the essential obligation of lighting on Chanukah is ner ish u’beito, for each person and his household to light a candle. The term used for household, beito, reflects a clear emphasis on the house, in addition to the ish, to the person.
This unique element of Chanukah is reflected in Jewish law/halacha. By way of example, even if one is thousands of miles from home, as long as one’s family is lighting a menorah in their home, then one’s obligation is fulfilled. Not because their family lights on their behalf, but rather because their home has a menorah that is lit (see Ran Pesachim 7a). The midrash also explains that the warm light of the Menorah is what transformed the Beit Hamikdash from an ordinary house of worship into a place where God dwells, i.e., God’s home.
“This may be compared to a king who had a beloved friend, and told him one day, ‘I intend to visit your home for a meal, so make preparations.’ His friend hurried and prepared a simple table and lamp. The king came to visit with a lamp of gold… his friend became embarrassed and hid |his lamp]…. Said the king, out of love for you I want to share your simple [lamp]. So too, the Holy One is all light, yet He tells Israel to light a menorah; as soon as they light the menorah, the Shechina arrives…. (Bamidbar Rabbah 15)
In Appreciating God’s Flowers, we discussed the P’nei Yehoshua’s insight that the miracle of Chanukah, the fact that the one small flask of oil burned for eight days, was not absolutely necessary because technically, impure oil could have been used. However, the significance was that God provided an extra token of love by instigating a miracle that wasn’t absolutely necessary. Similar gestures of affection turn a house into a home. A home is not simply a physical structure where relatives live, side-by-side. A home is a place where you can become vulnerable, where you trust the members of your household to view your vulnerabilities with sensitivity and acceptance, and where you rely on them not to take advantage of your weaknesses. The miracle of Chanukah is about God's expression of love to the Jewish people, a devotion that goes beyond the minimum obligations of a transactional relationship. The mitzvah to light the menorah is about the people in a home, a place that should reflect this kind of tenderness.
This insight into Chanukah helps explain the brothers’ response to Joseph's accusation of espionage. He alleges that their goal is et ervat Haaretz batem lirot, they intended to exploit the country’s vulnerabilities. Joseph was sending a subtle message to his brothers: your priority has not been to build caring relationships, so you are the kind of people who exploit the vulnerabilities you discover in others - the primary attribute of a spy. The brothers understood Joseph's point, and responded accordingly: we are not spies, we are bona fide siblings who care about our relationships. They were unwittingly confessing to the real crime they committed against Joseph because genuine brothers would not take advantage of a beloved kin’s weakness. If only they thought this way all along, they could never have treated a brother the way they did Joseph.
Joseph’s message to his brothers and the lesson of the miracle of Chanukah is a fitting one for these dark, cold winter months. Just as God went the extra mile for us with the miracle of the oil, we can express a higher love for God and the other important people in our lives by caring for each other and making ourselves vulnerable, thereby turning our houses and communities into warm, loving homes.
Wow. Beautiful and particularly touching. Such an important reminder of what it means to build meaningful relationships with our loved ones and with God.