More Than Meets the Eye

This week, as is the case in most years, we Lein Parshas Miketz on Shabbos Chanukah. As we have discussed before, the Jewish year contains no coincidences—if a specific Parsha and Yom Tov are connected by the calendar, there must be a deeper connection as well. Often if we discover than connection, it can help us better appreciate both the Yom Tov and the Parsha.

Parshas Miketz and Chanukah are in no way different: we must understand the innate connection between the two. To that end, I would like to discuss a common thread within the Parsha that I think also applies to the Yom Tov of Chanukah.

At the beginning of the Parsha, we learn of Pharaoh’s dreams, his reaction to these visions, and Yosef’s eventual interpretations. The Torah tells us that when Pharaoh awoke from his sleep, he was bothered: “VaTiphaem Rucho.” He summoned his advisors and astrologers, and asked them to interpret his dream.

The Passuk tells us that they were unable to interpret them: “V’Ain Poser Ossam L’Pharaoh.” We can assume that these individuals were men of great wisdom and mystical powers, why were they unable to provide Pharaoh with any sort of interpretation? Even if they could not divine an explanation based on their Chochmas HaChitzonios we can safely assume they were creative enough to offer Pharaoh at least some sort of interpretation if only to assuage his fears. In addition, there seems to be an extra word in the Passuk: “L’Pharaoh.” Obviously any analysis they would offer would be given to Pharaoh, why does the Passuk have to tell us that they didn’t interpret it “to Pharaoh?”

The Medrash, alluded to by Rashi on this Passuk, tells us that the Chachmei Mitzrayim did in fact offer their own interpretation of Pharaoh’s dreams. They told him: “Sheva Bonos Ata Molid, V’Sheva Bonos Ata Kover: You will give bear seven daughters; but you will bury seven daughters.” Alternatively they told him: “You will conquer seven lands; but the seven lands will rebel against you.”

Rashi explains that though the Chachamim and Chartumim did offer a Pisron to Pharaoh, he was not satisfied with their explanations—it was not “L’Pharaoh.” Their words were empty to him. He was only satisfied once he heard Yosef’s explanation.

At first glance, the Chachmei Mitzrayim’s explanations of Pharaoh’s dreams don’t differ that much from Yosef’s eventual interpretation. In all cases the first dream signifies seven positive occurrences—briths, military victories or bumper-crop years—and the second dream represented a reversal of fortune—death, revolt or famine. If so, why wasn’t Pharaoh satisfied with his advisors’ words, and why was he content with the words of Yosef?

Rav Zevin, in L’torah V’lamoadim, speaks at length about the concept of dreams. He explains that there are three types of dreams: ones that are total nonsense (most of our dreams fall into this category), dreams that contain a message but are so clear that they require no interpretation, and dreams that require interpretation. He adds that even within the last category, however, there are dreams that require explanation but are purely informational—they convey just a message—and those that are informational but also instructional—if understood correctly they can guide a person’s actions.

The Sifsei Chachamim says that Pharaoh understood that as king his dreams had to be impactful, they could certainly not be nonsense, and would serve no purpose if they were merely informational in nature. Rather, he felt that there had to be a message that would provide him—and his subjects—with a directive.

Pharaoh’s own advisors could not provide him with this sort of interpretation: they could only see the surface—that the two dreams complemented each other—but not beyond that. Yosef, on the other hand, had the gift of seeing beyond the surface, he was able to infer that there had to be a message, an instructional quality to the dream, and he offered his explanation based on that. It was this added element that impressed, and calmed, Pharaoh.

Yosef’s success came from the fact that he could see beyond the obvious. He had the gift of looking beyond the superficial and taking a lesson from that which is not seen.

Elsewhere in the Parsha, we can perhaps see where this ability or skill comes from.

Following the seven years of bounty, and two years into the seven years of famine, Yaakov Avinu sends his sons to Mitzrayim to procure some of the food that is available there due to the foresight of Yosef. When the Shevatim first encounter Yosef, the Passuk tells us: “Vayaker Yosef Es Echav, V’hem Lo Hikiruhu: and Yosef recognized his brothers, but they did not recognize him.”

The Miforshei HaPshat, almost without exception, explain that the Shevatim didn’t recognize Yosef because he had grown a beard since they last saw him. This is truly mystifying. True, it had been a number of years since the brother saw Yosef, but this was their brother—would a few years and a beard really render him unrecognizable? Further, Chazel—brought by Rashi in Parshas Vayeshev—say that Yosef was identical to Yaakov in many ways including their appearance. This makes it even more difficult to understand how it is possible that the brothers did not recognize Yosef.

I think the answer can be found in the words of the Ba’al Haturim on this Passuk.

The word “Hikiruhu” appears elsewhere in Tanach, in Sefer Iyov, where it says that Iyov’s friends did not recognize him. In that case, however, the word is Chasser—it is spelled without the first “Vav.” The Ba’al HaTurim explains that in both places the reason that the person was not recognizable even in to those who were closest to him is because they underwent life changing events in the intervening time since they had last met. In Iyov’s case he was subjected to terrible Yissurim, and in Yosef’s case he had become the Mishna L’Melech and risen to great heights.

However, in the case of Iyov’s friends, once they came closer to him they were able to recognize him, whereas Yosef’s brothers could not discern his true identity even once they were in close proximity. That is why Hikiruhu is spelled without the extra Vav in Iyov—because they were able to recognize him at some point.

The Ba’al Haturim explains that the reason the brothers were unable to recognize Yosef even when they were near him is “Shelo He’elu Al Da’atam SheYagia Yosef L’malah Kazu: it didn’t occur to them that Yosef would reach such a stature.” The reason that Yosef’s brothers could not recognize him is because in their minds there was no way that the man standing in front of them was their brother.

Yosef had a beard, and he had undergone a number of life-altering experiences in the years since his brothers had seen him. Nonetheless, had the brothers been willing to accept that this man may be Yosef, they would have been able to recognize him despite these changes. Their minds were closed to this possibility, though, and therefore they were blinded.

These two sections of our Parsha give us insight in to the importance of seeing what lies beneath the surface, and what is necessary in order to be able to do so. I think that this theme can be seen in the Yom Tov of Chanukah as well, perhaps on more than one level.

We know that the Yevanim were obsessed with the physical. They focused on a person’s appearance and physique and respected only those activities that served to enhance these qualities. For this reason, religious pursuits were an anathema to the Yevanim—they did not understand the purpose in serving Hashem as the benefits are not discernable to the human eye. The Yevanim could not see beyond the physical world—spirituality was invisible to them.

The Chashmonaim, on the other hand, were the Oskei Torasecha, they were steeped in Limud Hatorah and lived their whole lives as Ovdei Hashem. They stood for the antithesis of Yavan—that is why their lives were at risk, but also why the source of their power.

Many refer to Chanukah as the Yom Tov of Torah Shebaal Peh, because it is the only Yom Tov on our calendar with no source in Torah Shebiksav. All the Halachos and Minhagim of Chanukah are purely Midirabanan, and rooted in Torah Shebaal Peh. It would seem that Torah Shebaal Peh itself is also about seeing beyond the surface: if we read Chumash by itself we have no clear understanding of the Torah; we need the words of Chazal, the Torah Shebaal Peh, to see beyond the obvious and really understand Torah.

In this way Chanukah is about seeing what lies beneath the surface, looking deeper than the obvious: this was the battle between the Yevanim and the Chashmonaim, the struggle of the Zadim and the Oskei Torasecha. The victory that we celebrate on Chanukah is the victory of the spiritual over the physical; the deep over the shallow.

I think there is another way in which Chanukah represents this dichotomy, which applies to our everyday lives as well.

The Rambam begins Hilchos Chanukah by telling the story of the oppression of the Yevanim, the war and our victory, and then the Nes of the Pach Shemen. The next Halacha says that because of this the Chachmim in that generation were Misaken the Yom Tov of Chanukah for “Simcha and Hallel” and then the Rambam adds that we light the Menorah as a Zecher to the Nes.

One might assume that the Rambam would then continue with the Halachos of the Menorah, as he first states the general prinicipal that we light the Menorah at the doorways of our home. Instead, the rest of that Perek is devoted to the Halachos of Hallel that apply not only on Chanukah, but throughout the year. Only later on, in the next Perek, does the Rambam discuss the actual Halachos of the Menorah.

We know that the Rambam wrote Yad Hachazaka in a very organized fashion. There are no tangents—everything was placed with intent and care. Why then does he seem to interrupt the Halachos of Chanukah with the Halachos of Hallel, which would be much better place in Hilchos Teffilah?

I think the answer is that the Hallel on Chanukah can help us understand the Hallel that is necessary throughout the year.

On Chanukah we were Zoche to Nissim Geluyim, open miracles. No one could mistake the victory in the war for Teva and certainly the Nes of the Menorah could not be attributed to anything else other than the Yad Hashem. The Ramban in PArshas Bo—in one of his most seminal comments—writes that the purpose of Nisim Geluyim is to help us realize that there are so many Nissim Nistarim that happen every day. When we reflect on the power of Hashem that is manifest in Nissim Geluyim, we come to a realization of the fact that everything that happens in this world is a result of the same Koach, as the Ramban writes: “Ain Bahem Teva U’Minhago Shel Olam…Kulam Nissim.”

On Chanukah we remember the Nissim of the war and the Menorah, prototypical Nissim Geluyim, as we reflect on these Nissim we will come to a realization of the Nissim that are constantly happening to us. All the Hallel that we say throughout the year, on Yomim Tovim or even in our personal lives, stems from the recognition that The Ribono Shel Olam is the Kol Yachol and has ultimate Hashgacha on our lives. This Emunah is strengthened through the reflection on Nissim Geluyim that occurs on Chanukah.

Perhaps that’s why the Rambam includes the Halachos of Hallel within Hilchos Chanukah—to remind us that Chanukah in not only a time to celebrate the Nissim that we Bayamim HaHem, but to reflect on those that are BaZman Hazeah, on a daily basis.

With this in mind, we can see how the Avoda of Chanukah is very much about seeing beyond the obvious, looking beyond the surface. It is a time to take in the world around us and see the Yad Hashem that exists in everything we do, and everything that happens.

The Shevatim could not tell that the man in front of them was their brother because they could not fathom that Yosef had reached such a position. If we want to see the Yad Hashem in our lives, the first step is to make it part of our consciousness. If we truly believe that there are Nissim Nistarim happening every day, we will begin to see them.

We can open our eyes, but we have to start by opening our hearts. The time to do this is on Chanukah, as we reflect on the Yad Hashem manifest in Nissim Geluyim.