Surf A Little Torah
Yeshivat Har Etzion

by Rav David Silverberg

The Talmudic source of the miracle of Chanukah appears in Masekhet Shabbat (21b). The Gemara there recounts the story of the Chashmonaim's victory over the Greeks and the miraculous lighting of the menorah with the small jug of oil. The Gemara concludes, "The following year, they established them [the eight days] as a festival of praise and thanksgiving."

The Gemara's formulation implies that the Chashmonaim waited until the following year before formally instituting the festival of Chanukah to commemorate the miracle. Why did they not do so immediately? After the unlikely military victory over the world superpower and the miracle of the oil which enabled them to keep the menorah lit until more oil could be manufactured, what else was needed before they established this holiday? What could have possibly occurred over the course of that year that prompted them to formally declare the festival of Chanukah?

Rav Shemuel Alter, in his "Likutei Batar Likutei" (on Masekhet Shabbat), explains that Chanukah was established to commemorate not merely the miracle itself, but the far-reaching implications of this miracle. The supernatural endurance of the small quantity of oil symbolized the power of the committed few to sustain the purity of Torah and authentic Judaism. Despite the overwhelming wave of cultural assimilation that swept the Jews of the time, the Chashmonaim remained as the single "jug of pure oil" that did not allow itself to fall prey to the forces of contamination. They defeated not only the Greek empire, but the Greek culture and ideology, as well. As we say in the "al ha-nissim" paragraph added to our prayers and birkat ha-mazon during Chanukah, this struggle marked the defeat not only of "the mighty in the hands of the weak, the many in the hands of the few," but also of "the impure in the hands of the pure, the wicked in the hands of the righteous… "

When we consider the Chanukah miracles in this light (pardon the pun), claims Rav Alter, we can more readily understand the Chashmonaim's hesitation. Would this religious and cultural revolution last? Were they indeed witnessing a revival of Torah study and commitment, or was the nation merely overcome by a sudden, temporary rush of excitement and nationalistic fervor triggered by the stunning military victory? Would the small jug of purity they managed to salvage last for only eight days, while the Temple was rededicated, or would it last beyond that week and usher in a new era in the Jews' religious life? These questions needed to be answered before a formal celebration could be announced. The Chashmonaim therefore waited a year to ensure that this victory indeed warranted an annual celebration, that indeed the small jug of oil persevered, bringing on a new period in Jewish history, where Jewish learning and tradition continued without the harmful "impurities" of Greek culture.

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According to tradition, our forefathers observed the mitzvot of the Torah despite the fact that it had yet to be given. Much has been written about the nature of this observance, but many halakhic scholars over the ages have dealt with halakhic issues as they arise from the conduct of our saintly ancestors. We will look at one example of such a discussion concerning an event in Parashat Miketz.

Recall that Yosef, who had been imprisoned on false charges of attempted rape, is now summoned to stand before Pharaoh in order to interpret the king's mysterious dreams. In preparation for his meeting with Pharaoh, Yosef shaves and changes his clothing (41:14). Rashi explains that he did so "mipenei kevod malkhut" - out of respect for the monarchy. A question arises concerning Yosefs conduct in light of a comment in Masekhet Rosh Hashanah (10b) that this event occurred on the festival of Rosh Hashanah. As we know, shaving constitutes a violation of Yom Tov. How, then, was Yosef permitted to shave before meeting with Pharaoh?

Three answers have been suggested. Perhaps the most obvious explanation appears in the work, "Moshav Zekeinim," a compendium of commentaries from the Ba'alei ha-Tosefot. Quite simply, Yosef would have most certainly risked his life if he had appeared before the king without grooming himself, and thus all prohibitions of Yom Tov were overridden by piku'ach nefesh (the interest in saving one's life).

The Chatam Sofer, in his Torat Moshe on the Chumash, claims that Yosef did not cut his own hair. Rather, the king's servants took him from the prison and shaved him. This then constituted "amira le-nokhri," instructing gentiles to perform melakha, which is forbidden on Shabbat and Yom Tov by force of rabbinic enactment. According to some authorities, however, most prominently the Behag, one may ask a gentile to perform a melakha (activity forbidden on Shabbat) for him for purposes of a mitzva. Since showing honor to kings ("kevod malkhut") constitutes a mitzva, Yosef was allowed to have others cut his hair for him on Yom Tov. One may want to challenge this theory in light of the fact that Yosef stood before Pharaoh - hardly a righteous, dignified ruler deserving of honor and respect. But the Chatam Sofer elsewhere (in his responsa, C.M. 190) rules that the mitzva to show honor to government leaders applies even to evil kings. He proves this from the respect Moshe Rabbenu showed Pharaoh, who enslaved Am Yisrael, and the honor with which the prophet Eliyahu treated the wicked king Achav.

A particularly astonishing approach is taken by the Mahari Algazi in his work, "Ar'a de-Rabanan." He proves from Yosef's having shaved on Rosh Hashanah before his meeting with Pharaoh that kevod malkhut is a Torah obligation. Given the principle of "asei docheh lo ta'aseh," a "positive commandment" overrides a "negative commandment," when a conflict arises between the mitzva of kevod malkhut and the prohibitions of Yom Tov, we suspend the latter in deference to the former.

Rav Asher Weiss, in his Minchat Asher on Sefer Bereishit (pp.365-366), raises several objections to this proof from Yosef's conduct. First and foremost, we cannot establish halakhot based solely on the conduct our ancestors before Matan Torah. Secondly, as mentioned earlier, it is likely that Yosef had others cut his hair for him; this would thus relegate the issue at hand to the rabbinic, rather than Biblical, prohibition of "amira le-nokhri." Yosef's shaving would therefore tell us nothing about the status of the obligation of kevod malkhut. Furthermore, it is unclear whether or not shaving itself (even when done personally) violates a Torah prohibition on Shabbat and Yom Tov. The prohibition against cutting hair stems from the category of forbidden activity known as "gozez," or shearing wool. Obviously, people sheared wool primarily because they needed the wool, and not because the sheep's wool grew too long. When one cuts his hair for purposes of grooming, he performs the action of gozez for a different purpose than for which the melakha was initially instituted. For this reason, Tosefot (Shabbat 94b) classify haircutting as a "melakha she-eina tzerikha le-gufa" (loosely translated as, an activity performed for a purpose other than the purpose for which this activity was done in the construction of the Mishkan, which established the categories of activity forbidden on Shabbat and Yom Tov). According to most authorities (the Rambam being a notable exception), a melakha she-eina tzerikha le-gufa is forbidden only by force of rabbinic enactment. Thus, we cannot extract from Yosef's conduct that kevod malkhut is a Torah obligation that has the power to override Torah prohibitions.

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In the "al ha-nissim" paragraph added to our tefilot and birkat ha-mazon on Chanukah, we emphasize the qualitative differences between the victors - the Hasmoneans - and those defeated - the Greeks. We declare, "You submitted the mighty into the hands of the , the many into the hands of the few, the impure into the hands of the pure, the wicked into the hands of the righteous, and the evil ones into the hands of those involved in Your Torah." In all the pairs of contrasts in this list, the specific point of distinction is clear and obvious. Mighty is the exact opposite of weak, many the direct opposite of few, and so on. The final clause, however, appears to break the pattern: "the evil ones into the hands of those involved in Your Torah." Wherein lies the specific point of contrast between "zeidim" - "evil ones" and "osekei Toratekha" - "those involved in Your Torah"?

The Sifrei Chayim (by Rav Chayim Friedlander, of the Ponivitzh yeshiva) explains by taking a closer look at the word "zeidim." A survey of the Biblical and rabbinic usage of this term reveals that it denotes a specific form of evil; it describes those who scorn and mock. For example, King David writes in Tehillim (119:51), "Zeidim helitzuni ad me'od" - the scoffers mocked me very much. Likewise, the mishna in Pirkei Avot (3:3) describes a meeting of two people with no words of Torah spoken as a "moshav leitzim" - a company of scoffers. Rabbenu Yona, in his commentary to that mishna (as well as in his Sha'arei Teshuva 3:177), explains that people who appreciate the value and importance of Torah but fail to take advantage of the opportunities to study it effectively make a mockery of Torah learning.

Thus, Chazal's reference to the Greeks as "zeidim" reflects their scornful and derisive attitude towards the Jews. The previous clause in "al ha-nissim" describes them as "resha'im," a generic term for wickedness, referring to their intrinsic evil qualities. "Zeidim," by contrast, relates to their having mocked Am Yisrael. What were the origins of this contempt harbored by the Greeks towards the Jewish people? Rav Friedlander claims that this attitude involved specifically the Jews' approach to Torah scholarship. The Greeks, as we know historically, held academia in the highest esteem. They had very high regard for wisdom, knowledge and scholarship. In this sense, they and the Jewish people shared a common value, as it were. One fundamental difference, however, set the Greeks' attitude completely apart from the Jews' perspective. The Jews valued learning itself as a sacred act. Whereas the Greeks valued knowledge, they could not appreciate the importance of the act of learning, the value of toil and intensive effort in Torah scholarship. For them, learning was geared exclusively towards the end result, the practical conclusions and applications of their study. They ridiculed the reverent attitude Benei Yisrael have always shown to the very act of Torah learning, they scoffed at the notion of tireless effort in even theoretical debate and discourse without concrete, practical results.

The "al ha-nissim" paragraph thus distinguishes between "zeidim" - the Greek scoffers - and "osekei Toratekha" - those "involved" in the Almighty's Torah. We speak here not of "lomedei Toratekha" - those who study Torah, but rather those who involve themselves in Torah, referring to an emotional attachment, a passion for learning, a drive to invest effort and hard work in Torah study. Herein lies the critical distinction between the Greek and Jewish attitudes towards learning, the difference between reverence and contempt, a distinction which indeed parallels the difference between "the pure and the impure," and "the wicked and the righteous."

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As we discussed at length in our "S.A.L.T." series last year on Chanukah, several different customs exist as to when one optimally lights Chanukah candles. The two prevalent practices are to light the candles either at sunset or at nightfall. What happens if, for whatever reason, one could not light Chanukah candles at this optimum time? When is his latest opportunity to light candles?

The Shulchan Arukh (O.C. end of 672) rules that one can light throughout the night. As the Magen Avraham and others note, this plainly formulated ruling implies that one can even recite the berakhot over candle lighting when he lights late at night, even at, let's say, 3 A.M., when (at least in many locales) no one will see the candles. The Magen Avraham then cites and accepts a qualification of this ruling established by the Maharshal: this applies only if there are others around to witness the candle lighting. If one lights by himself late at night, he may not recite the berakhot. This is also the ruling of the Mishna Berura, who recommends that in such a situation one should wake up the family members in the interest of "pirsumei nisa" - publicizing the miracle.

Amidst his discussion, the Magen Avraham notes a seeming inconsistency in the rulings of the Shulchan Arukh. Here, as mentioned, he strongly implies that one may recite the berakhot when lighting Chanukah candles late at night (we'll assume, for argument's sake, that other people are awake and present at the lighting). In the Bet Yosef, however - which, of course, is an earlier work written by the same author as the Shulchan Arukh (Rav Yosef Karo), the author notes that this issue is subject to a dispute among the authorities. Some poskim hold that once pedestrian traffic wanes in the late hours of the night, one can no longer light Chanukah candles. If, indeed, the Bet Yosef considers this halakha a "sefeika de-dina" - a matter of dispute, then he should have ruled that in such a case one lights candles without the berakhot. After all, a famous halakhic principle dictates that when in doubt as to the requirement of a given berakha, we refrain from reciting it, given the gravity of the prohibition against uttering a berakha le-vatala (unnecessary berakha). Since one's performance of a mitzva is complete even without the recitation of a berakha (a principle in halakha known as, "berakhot einan me'akevot"), in this case, when one returns home from work late one Chanukah evening, he should, presumably, light candles without a berakha. This way, he satisfies the requirement of Chanukah candles according to the view that the deadline has not passed, but he has not recited a wasteful berakha according to the view that the deadline had, in fact, passed. Why, then, does the Shulchan Arukh rule (at least according to the straightforward reading) that one can even recite a berakha in such a situation?

Rav Yaakov Emden, in his "Mor U-ketzia," answers by establishing a revolutionary theory concerning the berakhot over Chanukah candles. The halakha states that one does not fulfill the mitzva of Chanukah candles if he lit indoors (during the time of the Gemara, when Chanukah candles were lit outside) and then moved the candle(s) outside. The reason given is that onlookers will walk away with the impression that the individual lit the candle(s) not for the mitzva of Chanukah, but rather for some practical purpose. Rav Yaakov Emden interprets this halakha to mean that the concern for "pirsumei nisa" requires that the lighting itself reflect or even broadcast the true purpose of the lighting - to publicize the miracle of Chanukah. If one lights in a manner that does not give the immediate impression of a commemorative lighting celebrating the miracle, he has not fulfilled his obligation. The element of "pirsumei nisa" is integral to the obligation of lighting Chanukah candles. We accomplish this, Rav Emden claims, through the recitation of the berakhot. Regardless of how we explain the purpose and nature of the berakhot recited before the performance of mitzvot (an interesting topic in its own right), the berakhot over the lighting of Chanukah candles are different; they constitute a critical, indispensable component of the mitzva, insofar as they define the lighting as an act commemorating the miracle of the Chanukah. Hence, the standard principle of "berakhot einan me'akevot" - that one fulfills his obligation even without the recitation of the berakha - does not apply to this mitzva. If one fails to recite the berakhot over Chanukah candles, Rav Yaakov Emden claims, he has not satisfied the requirement. Therefore, the ShuArukh ruled that one indeed lights with a berakha when he arrives home late at night; he could not require lighting without a berakha, since an essential component of the mitzva would be missing.

This approach of Rav Yaakov Emden is not, however, accepted as halakha. One who lit Chanukah candles without a berakha has nonetheless fulfilled his requirement and does not light again with a berakha. However, if he remembers within a half-hour of lighting that he neglected to recite the berakhot, and the candles are still burning, he recites the berakha of "she-asa nissim," as well as "she-hecheyanu" if this occurred on the first night. According to some poskim, one recites these berakhot so long as the candles continue to burn, even later than a half-hour after lighting.

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Parashat Miketz tells the famous story of Yosef as viceroy in Egypt, how he recognizes his brothers who come to purchase grain, and accuses them of spying the country. He imprisons Shimon and tells the others to return only if they bring their youngest brother, Binyamin, whom Yaakov had forbade from traveling to Egypt. Yaakov adheres to his decision even after the brothers' return. Only once the family had used all the grain they had brought form Egypt does Yaakov finally, against his will, allow Binyamin to join his brothers in order to purchase grain.

The Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 91) notes a peculiar expression used by Yaakov when he once and for all tells his sons to return to Egypt: "Im kein EIFO zot asu… " ("If it must be so, then do this… " - 43:11). The Midrash associates the word "eifo" used by Yaakov here with the same expression uttered by his father, Yitzchak, many year earlier. Recall that Yitzchak, sensing that his end was near, prepared to bestow a special blessing upon his eldest son, Esav. Yaakov, however, disguises himself as Esav and receives the berakha in his older brother's stead. When Esav comes to receive his blessing, Yitzchak shudders and cries, "Mi eifo hu ha-tzad tzayid" - "Who was it, then, who hunted game… " (27:33). The Midrash tells that by employing this same expression, Yaakov considered the possibility that this calamity has come upon him as punishment for the trick he played on his father.

How are we to understand this association between these two events, Yaakov's forced decision to send Binyamin to Egypt, and his having stolen his brother's blessing many years earlier?

The comparison seems to lie in the notion of a father mistakenly choosing one son over another or others. Yaakov's refusal to allow Binyamin join his brothers reflects his insistent conviction that Binyamin will become his successor, the leader of his family. Yaakov had believed all along that Yosef, the eldest son of his favorite wife, Rachel, will earn the mantle of leadership. After Yosef tells his father and brothers of his dreams of leadership, the Torah writes, "His father kept the matter in mind" (37:11). Rashi explains that Yaakov eagerly awaited and anticipated the fulfillment of these dreams. Apparently, these dreams conformed with Yaakov's own hopes and aspirations for Yosef. All these hopes were shattered, of course, when Yosef was - in Yaakov's mind - killed. Yaakov then decided that he would not make the same mistake with his second son from Rachel, Binyamin. He would not be permitted to take long trips, as did Yosef, he must be protected from harm since he is destined, Yaakov thought, to lead the twelve tribes.

Now that Yaakov has no choice but to let Binyamin go to Egypt, and perhaps suspecting that the mysterious viceroy intends to keep Binyamin there, he comes face to face with the likelihood that his plans for his family's future are entirely mistaken. He now finds himself in the same situation in which he had placed his father, many years earlier. He now feels the "violent trembling" that he had brought upon Yitzchak by subverting his plans to bless Esav. Yaakov, too, must confront the reality that all his expectations, hopes and visions for the future have operated according to a mistaken presumption, that perhaps Binyamin will not assume the family leadership after all. Hence, he cannot help but attribute this developing crisis to his having deceived his father many years earlier.

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A famous Talmudic passage in Masekhet Shabbat (21b) establishes three levels of fulfilling the mitzva of candle lighting on Chanukah. The basic level requires "ner ish u-veito" - a single candle for the entire household. The next level, called "mehadrin," involves one candle for every member of the household each night. The highest level, which, of course, is the level that the Jewish people has taken upon itself, requires lighting an additional candle each night.

In his presentation of this hierarchy, the Rambam (Hilkhot Chanukah 4) writes that even at the standard of mehadrin (the second level), not every member of the household lights a candle. Rather, the head of the household lights the same number of candles as number of people in the family. Mehadrin does not mean that every individual lights personally; rather, it adds more candles to be lit by the head of the household.

The Brisker Rav (Reb Velvele Soloveitchik) associates this ruling of the Rambam with a position he takes in an entirely different context. In his treatment of the laws of circumcision (Hilkhot Mila 2:4), the Rambam presents a surprising ruling regarding the procedure of berit mila. As we know from the Talmud, the act of circumcision consists of two components. The first is the basic act of removing the foreskin. Thereafter, the mohel removes the threads of skin left behind after the actual circumcision itself. The Gemara establishes that this second stage is not indispensable for the fulfillment of the mitzva of berit mila. The actual obligation requires only the removal of the foreskin; the second stage constitutes a "hiddur mitzva," a beautification, or higher standard, of the mitzva, parallel to the "mehadrin" and "mehadrin min ha-mehadrin" levels presented by the Gemara in the context of Chanukah candles. Strangely, the Rambam rules that if, for whatever reason, the mohel stopped his work - even momentarily - after completing the basic removal of the foreskin, he does not resume his activity to remove the remaining threads. Although for the sake of hiddur mitzva the mohel should certainly proceed to this second stage after the first, once he had to stop his work, no hiddur mitzva is achieved by resuming it. Rashi on the Gemara, as well as the Tur, dispute this ruling. (According to their view, this halakha is true only on Shabbat, not on weekdays.) Wherein lies the rationale behind the Rambam's position?

Clearly, the Rambam maintains that any hiddur mitzva must relate to the mitzva itself. Meaning, only during the actual performance of the mitzva can one speak of its beautification, or a higher standard of performance. Once an individual has completed the mitzva act, anything performed thereafter cannot be associated with it to be considered a hiddur mitzva. Therefore, only if the mohel works continuously can the additional removal of threads be seen as an enhancement of the basic mitzva act; otherwise, the removal of threads is seen independently, and has no bearing on the quality of the performance of the mitzva.

The Brisker Rav applies this same line of reasoning to explain the Rambam's position concerning the mehadrin level of Chanukah candles. We cannot consider the basic mitzva to have been enhanced if other people besides the head of the household light candles. Once a single candle has been lit for the home, the mitzva act is complete; no further action can be performed that will add hiddur, that will further enhance the mitzva. Therefore, the Rambam had no choice but to explain the mehadrin standard as requiring the head of the household himself to light extra candles. So long as he does not stop his activity, his additional lighting can, indeed, add a quality of hiddur mitzva to the basic mitzva act, of lighting a single candle.

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A well-known Midrashic passage describes how the Greeks attempted to destrthe Jewish religion. It records that the Greek authorities issued a decree forcing the Jews "to inscribe on the horns of oxen, 'We have no share in the God of Israel'." Wherein lies the symbolism of this inscription, which was ordered to be done "on the horns of oxen"?

Rav Shlomo Yosef Zevin zt"l explains (though we have added some of our own analysis) based on the famous comments of the Rambam in Hilkhot Teshuva 3:4. The Rambam there writes that although shofar blowing on Rosh Hashanah is a mitzva like any other, which we observe and perform primarily for the simple reason that God commanded us, it also contains symbolic meaning. The blast of the shofar declares, "Awaken, you who sleep, from your sleep." The shofar serves as a "wake-up call," of sorts, intended to shake us from our spiritual slumber and religious lethargy, calling upon us to carefully examine our conduct and reinforce our fervent commitment to Torah and mitzvot.

An ox's horn, however, may not be used for shofar blowing on Rosh Hashanah. It cannot serve as this spiritual "wake-up call."

The Greeks sought to break the Jews' commitment to their tradition without "waking them." If they would initiate their campaign suddenly, with a massive onslaught of decrees and oppression, the Jews would wake up and resist. The Greeks therefore adopted a slower, gradual approach, one of cultural assimilation and mild, slowly increasing pressure to forsake their heritage. They focused on the "horns of oxen," that which will not awaken the Jewish conscience, the method that would not, in their mind, evoke strong resistance on the Jews' part. As we know, of course, their efforts were unsuccessful. The Jews in fact arose from their slumber, rededicated themselves (note the literal meaning of the word, "chanukah") to their tradition, and overthrew the Greek occupation.

As a symbol of this successful struggle, the Chashmonaim chose specifically fire and light. Light prevents one from sleeping. The Torah, symbolized by the light of the menorah, helps ensure that we do not fall into a slumber of indifference, that we remain alert and vigilant in our devotion to God and His mitzvot. They instituted candle lighting specifically at nighttime, when people generally go to sleep. The light of Chanukah, the memory of this historic struggle, must keep us awake at all times, it calls upon us to maintain our religious sensitivities and constantly kindle the flame of Torah learning and observance.

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