Part I

We are all familiar with the two miracles associated with Chanukah, the Yom Tov we recently celebrated. Logic dictates that the miracle of the military victory is the more significant one in its impact on Jewish survival. Yet, we also know that it is the lighting of the candles on the menorah commemorating the miracle of the tiny pach shemen, jar of oil, that lasted for eight days, that is the more prominent miracle we associate with this Yom Tov. Moreover, our rabbis teach us many lessons on the association between Chanukah and Parshat Miketz, which is typically read on Shabbos Chanukah or close to it. It was Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, z”l, whose insights on this association resonated so strongly for me. In numerous articles and shiurim, he shared the sentiments that the origin of intolerance and bias against Jews was not limited to the hatred of the umot ha’olam. Rather, he argued the case that it too often involves Jews against Jews, and even family members against family members, as it did in Parshat Miketz. Most certainly this becomes even more serious in cases when our ethnic feuds are publicly aired.

According to Rabbi Sachs, it was the story of Yosef and his brothers in Parshat Miketz that offers a paradigmatic value in the arena of anti-semitism. Ironically, it was Yosef, the victim in this story, who turned out to be the optimistic problem solver and showed us the way out of this despicable web. It was when he made the transformation from a seeming participant in the problem to being the “problem solver” that our salvation came. I am not, chas v’shalom, attempting to make any excuses for the wrongs that were issued then and now. Rather, I am pleading a case for the import of taking the high road, the role Yosef, along with our Patriarchs, assumed as the quintessential “problem solvers,” finding solutions for correcting the spiritual and other flaws of our world. This is why I cringe when we take the opposing stands via public displays of dissention. It becomes a chillul Hashem when we become perpetrators of the very same act we claim against those whose actions reflect acts of intolerance and aggression against us. This occurs each time we publicly display our intolerance against those who don’t look like us, think like us, or who practice our religion in a different manner. This I also believe is the message Rabbi Sacks delivered to us in his recent book, “Morality: Restoring the Common Good in a Divided World.” In this last seminal work, published this past September, he assumed the mantle of healing the breaches caused by bias of one sector of Jews against another. He shared the belief that this could be the nasty germ that spread the pervasive pandemic of anti-Semitism. In so many of his articles and divrei Torah he demonstrated the commitment to finding real-time role models in our Torah to show us the way.

It is particularly, in the story of Yosef and his brothers, that Rabbi Sacks demonstrated just how the seeds of hatred of man against man can be spread. This is not, chas v’shalom, meant to make excuses for this heinous act. Yet, when an ultra-Orthodox Jew denigrates a Conservative or Reform Jew no less publicly, at the very least it diminishes the onus for others to act in kind. In my own experience I was personally a witness to this heinous act twice in my own life. As a very young child living in the Williamsburg section of Brooklyn, my Jewish education coincided with the influx of Hungarian Jews emigrating to the U.S. following the war. Despite our youth, my twin sister and I soon became aware that when all the families gathered in Tompkins Park on Shabbos afternoon, the Hungarians and Polish Jews did not mix. When we asked my mom, she seemed to shy away from any explanation. Yet, when the topic came up in school through the grapevine of child gossip, we learned that the difference among the two cultures led to a high level of animosity among them. My twin sister Adele, a”h, and I shared many hours pondering over the sad truth that one Jew could hate another, especially given the horrific experience they so recently shared. From the mouth of babes! If those so young can intuit that there is something wrong with this picture, how blind can we, as mature adults, be? This is only one story among many that bears testimony to the truth that it is imperative to step up to the path of Yosef, who became the quintessential problem solver rather than a perpetrator of hatred.

In his textual analysis of a pasuk in the Yosef story, Rabbi Sacks revealed the source of the flaw in our national character that is long-standing and difficult to eradicate. In helping us understand how this plays out in the parsha, Rabbi Sacks directed our attention to the segment when the famine brought the brothers to Mitzrayim to replenish their food supply. Fortuitously, they were led to deal with Yosef, who was now second in command to the king. The rabbi begins by referring to the backstory, where we learn that Yosef was the victim of jealousy by his brothers, whom they believed to be favored by their father, for many reasons. Yosef, as the young lad he was, may have been a bit into himself. Moreover, no one can deny that Yaakov could have been a bit more careful of the extra care he gave this child, which is not so unusual for the youngest child. Yet, on the positive side, Yaakov may have also recognized Yosef’s extraordinary qualities, even before his show of visionary dreams. Yet, blinded by their jealousy, the brothers failed to see the truth and value of Yosef’s dreams. Instead, they misinterpreted his dreams as a show of egotism and narcissism.

Fast forwarding to the famous pesukim where Yosef showcased his dreams, we read: “Vayaker Yosef et echav, v’hem lo hikiruhu, And Yosef recognized his brothers, but they did not recognize him (Bereishit: 42:8). According to Rabbi Sacks, the word vayaker applies to the past as well as the present. It was not only that they failed to recognize him due to the years of his disappearance. Rather, this wording was intended to highlight their long-standing failure to “recognize” Yosef for who he was. No doubt, aggravated by the animosity and jealousy of the brothers, they never really let Yosef be Yosef. As a result, they failed to recognize the prophetic value of his visions and that this was part of the plan Hashem had in mind for him. What we also know is that coupled with their previous feelings, it seems as if the brothers failed to recognize Yosef for the special child he was. Rabbi Sacks posited that the actions of the brothers against Yosef caused more harm than just impacting Yosef’s ability to “just be.” It was because of this flaw that throughout Jewish history the story of Yosef and his brothers set the paradigm for the hatred, intolerance and jealousy of the other nations. Indeed, if a Yid can hate a Yid, via jealousy and intolerance, knowing that all Hashem endows us for us is meant to be in support of our unique missions, how can the u’mot ha’olam be expected to recognize us and let us just be?

This is not to be misunderstood as, chas v’shalom, an excuse for the anti-Semitism expressed by our real enemies. Rather, it is a plea for ahavat chinam, unconditional love for each other and all of mankind. Yet, it is because of our role as the Chosen People that we live in glass houses and are ever vulnerable to be victims of jealousy, as was Yosef. It is for this reason that we must stand strong and united in the mission of Yosef to be the quintessential role models as problem solvers, rather than part of the problem. Let us lean on the lesson of the parsha and its connection to Chanukah. Most importantly, let us make full use of the light illuminated by the Chanukah candles, to see that which was hidden before the darkness set in.

Renee Nussbaum is a practicing psychoanalyst with special training in imago relational therapy. She can be reached at [email protected].