It’s Obvious

As a function of the calendar set up by Chazal so many generations ago, Parshas Miketz and Shabbos Chanukah have become closely associated, as they most often coincide, as is the case this year. While one could chalk this up to a fluke or calendric anomaly, we know that really there must be a deeper link between the Parsha and the Yom Tov, such that we can learn something from their relationship of concurrence. Rather than assuming there is only one such connection, perhaps one word or one Passuk, each Passuk can be examined with this concept in mind, and we may even find a link in the most unlikely of places.

At the beginning of the Parsha, the Torah tells us about the dreams of Pharaoh, which bothered him greatly, and his inability to find an interpretation to sufficient enough to calm him. The Sar HaMashkim, who was privy to the royal discomfort, mentions that during his time in jail, he encountered a “Na’ar Ivri” with a gift for dream interpretation, and Pharaoh immediately sends for Yosef Hatzaddik. When Yosef arrives, after an initial discussion, Pharoah tells him what he saw in the dreams, a recounting that Pessukim detail. At first glance, these Pessukim seem somewhat extra: the Torah already told us what was in Pharaoh’s dreams, why is there a need to repeat the details? The Torah could have said that Pharaoh told Yosef his dreams without repeating them.

If we learn the Pessukim a little more carefully, however, we see that there are a few editorial comments made by Pharoah that are included in the Pessukim, and we can only assume that the Torah repeats the entire description of the dreams so that we can see these words, and presumably learn something from them.

One of the details that is added by Pharaoh in his retelling, concerns the Sheva Paros Dalos V’Raos that ate the Sheva Paros Brios. Pharaoh tells Yosef: VaTavona El Kirbena V’Lo Noda Ki Ba’u El Kirbena. When the seven skinny cows at the seven robust one, there was no discernable change in their girth—they remained emaciated: “Umarehen Ra’ah K’Asher B’Techila.” This is certainly remarkable—one would assume that the ingestion of a large cow would make an impact on the weight of a skinny one. If so, however, why didn’t the Torah include this fact as part of its recording of the original dream? Why do we only learn of this fact now, when Pharoah was retelling the dream to Yosef?

The Rashbam explains that Pharaoh told Yosef that it was only upon reflecting on his dream that he realized this phenomenon but that it did not strike him while he was dreaming. Therefore, the Torah did not include the fact that the cows remained unchanged in its original telling of the dreams because it included only that which was seen, and not the parts that were subject to Pharaoh’s thoughts.

While the Rashbam perhaps explains why this detail was not included in the initial Pessukim, we must still understand why we are told them now. Was this detail, that the cows were unaffected, significant or not? If it is important, the Torah could have told us about it originally as part of the dreams, and if not, why include it now? What do we have to learn from this aspect of the dream that could only be taught through the words of Pharaoh himself?

There is a comment in the Sforno that seems to shed a bit of light on the meaning of this phenomenon, such that we can begin to understand its significance. He writes that this part of the dream is related to a Passuk in the Tochacha of Bechukosai. There the Torah speaks about the various Klalos that will befall us if we stray from the Derech Hashem, one of which is: “V’Achaltem V’lo Sisbau”, that one will eat, yet not be satiated. The seven skinny cows, which having eaten the seven fat cows remained unaffected, could be seen as having been subject to this Klalah. While there is an overt connection between the two, we must understand why the Sforno points this out: what does Pharoah’s dream have to do with the Tochacha? in addition, there is one last line in the Sforno’s comment which almost seems to be a non sequitur. He adds that this is related to that which Chazal teach us: “Aino Domeh Mi Sheyesh Pas B’Salo L’Mi SheAin Lo”. What does this Mamar Chazal add to his explanation of the Passuk?

To explain the comment of the Sforno, and therefore the Pessukim themselves, we must better understand the Passuk in Bechukosai to which he refers.

To begin with, the severity of this Klalah must be understood. In general, the Klalos of the Tochacha increase in severity as they progress, and the Klalah of “V’Achaltem V’lo Sisbau”, is the final in its section, indicating that it is the most severe. Why is this the case—how is this type of hunger harsher than others?

R’ Avrohom Shmuel Finkel, the son of the Alter of Slabodka, in his classic Sefer Nesivos HaMussar, speaks about this Klalla in the context of the Bracha that is its counterpart.

In Parshas Behar, the Torah addresses a concern that may arise out of the Mitzvah of Shemita: “Mah Nochal”, if we are not to plant in the seventh year, what will we then eat? To ally these concerns, Hashem promises that the produce of the sixth year will suffice for three years: the sixth, seventh and eighth.

R’ Finkel explains that this Bracha could come about in one of two ways: either there would be a great abundance during the sixth year, so that there would be enough to last for all three years, or one would become full from a smaller amount of food so even a normal crop could last for the entire period. Klalah can work in a similar way he explains: either the grain can be scarce, or the same grain that usually fills one up will have no effect and he will still be hungry.

This contrast—the Bracha of the Sixth Year—illustrates the true Kllalah of “V’Achaltem V’lo Sisbau.” The Nesivos Hamussar expounds on the idea that the Mitzvah of Shmitta is one that is meant to enhance our Bitachon in Hashem, and so the Bracha of the sixth year must do the same. The difference in the two ways that this Bracha manifests itself is in how clearly the Hashgachas Hashem is displayed. If, in an open display of Hashgacha, the sixth year yields a truly bountiful crop, one is keenly aware that his needs will be met. If, however, the harvest of the sixth year is of the usual size, we would not know that there will be enough to survive until it actually happens. In this manifestation, the Bracha of the Shana HaShishis is not openly seen, but can be discerned only through careful introspection.

The same is true of the Klala “V’Achaltem V’lo Sisbau”. The Klalos are meant to affect us, to provide a wake up call, so to speak. If there is no grain, and scarcity reigns, the Klala is open to see, and the call is therefore easier to heed. If, however, the storehouses are full, yet appetites cannot be satiated, the Klalah will only be seen if one thinks carefully considers the circumstances.

The Sforno is telling us that when the skinny cows ate the fat cows yet no change was noticeable, they were experiencing this type of famine: they had food to eat but it did not fill them. The hunger that they faced was of the type that was less noticeable. This is why he quotes the Mamar Chazal about “Pas B’Salo”: “Aino Domeh Mi Sheyesh Pas B’Salo L’Mi SheAin Lo,” one cannot compare one who has bread in his basket to one who does not. Generally we assume that the former is better, that one who has food is at an advantage. In this case, however, they opposite is true: one who has no food recognizes his plight and may be able to realign himself in order to awaken the Rachmei Shamayim. If his has Pas B’Salo, however, he may not recognize that his hunger is due to Hasgachas Hashem—the Klalah is that much more difficult to discern and therefore react to.

This is why the Torah could not tell us at the outset that the cows were unaffected, and only includes this detail once Pharaoh mentions it—becaue this type of famine is recognizable only upon further introspection and is not visible to the untrained eye. As the Rashbam notes, it was only afterward that Pharaoh even understood what he was seeing, because that is the nature of this type of hunger. That this is the most severe type of hunger teaches us an important lesson: a Klala that is more obvious is actually less severe than one that is hidden. When we see something clearly, it is more likely to affect us than if we need to consider the circumstances more carefully, and so the more obvious Klalos are really less severe, though they may not seem so.

There is a similar message to be learned from Chanukah.

Rav Hutner, in Pachad Yitzchok, asks an interesting question: there are occurrences in our history, such as Yetizas Mitzrayim, which the Torah wishes us to remember, and gives us Mitzvos in order to do so. These Mitzvos, such as Sipur Yetzias Mitzrayim, are generally done through speech. Why then, when it comes to the Nes Chanukah, did the Chachamim establish a Mitzvah, lighting the Menorah, that is action based? Why not make the Mitzvah similar to those in the Torah, which accomplished by speaking about the Nes?

Rav Hutner offers an answer that follows his deep and almost-mystical approach, but there is perhaps another way to understand this Mitzvah on a more relatable level.

The Gemarah in Shabbos tells us that the Menorah was “Eidus L’ol Boei Olam SheHashechina Shora B’Yisroel”, proof that the Shechina dwelled in our midst. We also know that the Menorah in the Bais Hamikdash was lit each day, and Chazal tells us that the Ner Maaravi remained lit for the entire twenty-four hour period, Al Derech Nes. Thus, the Menorah itself is a symbol of our relationship with Hashem—and is done in a way that is open for all to see on a constant basis.

By instructing us to light the Menorah, rather than just speaking about the Nes, the Chachamim are teaching us an important lesson about our relationship with Hakadosh Baruch Hu. During the longest nights of the year, when the literal Chosech, and that of Yavan, seems pervasive, we light the Menorah, which openly symbolizes our relationship with Hashem. Rather than a Mitzvah done with words, which would require more introspection and thought to discern its message, we do a physical action to remind us of the Nes. In doing so, we are reminded of Hashem’s presence in our lives, which like the Ner Maarvi, is ever constant.

Just as Bracha, and Klalah, are seen more or less intense based on their openness, a relationship is the same. A connection that can be discerned only through deep introspection is much less close than one that can be openly seen. Chanukah, then, is a time when we remember the Nes Nigleh of the Milchama and the Shemen Zayis, and reinforce the notion that our relationship with Hashem can be openly seen and felt. It is this closeness of this relationship that provides us the warmth to survive the winter, and our Galus. It is this relationship in which we will ultimately bask when we experience the bliss of Ohr Chadash Al Tzion Ta’ir and it is through our Asiyas Mitzvos that we will realize the reality of V’nizkeh Chulanu B’Mehera L’Oro.