Chanukah The Drama of Light and Darkness I was once sitting and learning Torah with the Hollywood Actor, Kirk Douglas, when suddenly he turned to me and said, "You know, Rabbi, I love being Jewish."

"Oh, yeah? Why?" I asked.

"Because being Jewish is dramatic!"

I was surprised by his unusual answer and thought to myself, "I guess for these big time actors, everything is showbiz." Instead, I said, "Dramatic? I am sorry but I don't get the connection."

"Rabbi, I know drama, and let me tell you, Jewish life and Jewish history is dramatic. In fact, there are several archetypal themes to all films, and they are all from the Bible. Here, let me show you what's drama."

Kirk then jumped out of his chair and began to improvise a dramatic scene.

"Now, watch this. Let's say we are shooting a scene and it's about a guy named Jerry who is going to get some bad news about his mother. How do we make it dramatic? We would not have Jerry sitting at home reading a newspaper, when suddenly the phone rings and someone breaks the news to him that his mother is fatally ill. No, that's not interesting-that's not dramatic. So, this is how it's done: First, Jerry is at a party. No, better yet, he's at a party in his honor-it's a big company event and he's about to receive an important award. Now imagine he is wearing a tuxedo, he has a martini is his hand, and he is socializing with his friends at the reception before the event. He cracks a joke, and then, in the middle of the laughter, someone hands him a note."

At this point, Kirk became Jerry, masterfully acting out the entire scene as Jerry casually glances at the note, a pained look appears on his smiling face, and as he chokes out in response to his friends' inquiring looks, "It's my mother."

After a few theatrical moments of silence, Kirk perked up and said with a big smile, "Now that's drama! Get it Rabbi?"

"Kind of."

"Drama happens in the sharp contrasts of life - between happiness and sadness, failure and success, defeat and victory, darkness and light. And that is the story of the Jewish people. It's dramatic."

Kirk was right. And, in fact, all the Jewish holidays connect us with the drama of Jewish history, the sharp turns and striking contrasts of which inspire powerful clarity. Remembering what was in the past awakens us to see what is in the present and what can be in the future. In fact, the holidays empower us to recognize how God's love is with us all the time.

Celebrating Inner beauty

The word Chanukah is associated with the Hebrew word chen, which means "grace". When you meet people with chen, you realize there is something very attractive about them. But chen is not the same as "pretty," which is yofi in Hebrew.

We have all had the experience of meeting someone whose face seemed beautiful only to have such a first impression quickly wear off as we heard that person complain, criticize and spew out negativity. Similarly, we have all had the experience of meeting someone not at all attractive at first glance, but who became beautiful when he or she broke into a smile or demonstrated kindness and warmth.

That sort of experience demonstrates the difference between chen and yofi. Yofi is an external beauty. Chen is inner beauty.

The word Chanukah is also associated with the Hebrew word for "education" which is chinuch. King Solomon in the Book of Proverbs (5:19) praises the Torah for bringing chen upon all who study it. In other words, Torah education draws out your inner beauty, a beauty that is a function of your relationship to God which also depends on how well you relate to yourself, your friends, your community and the world. Through true loving relationships and spiritual harmony, our inner godly beauty shines out to the world. And the more you discover your own inner beauty of chen, you discover the chen of all people from the universal soul that we all share.

The word education comes from the Latin word educare, which means to "draw out." To educate, therefore, means to draw out something that fundamentally is already there. In the process of education, you actually become aware of yourself --- your soul shines. You grow, you transform and become the real you. Rather than simply memorizing a bunch of information, you absorb ideas that draw out the inner you and reveals who you really are in relationship to G-d.

The conflict between the Jews and Greeks was really about the tension between "Chen" and 'Yofi'-inner beauty (the beauty of the soul as a part of G-d) and external beauty. This is why the Midrash states: Rabbi Shimon ben Lakish explained the verse in Genesis: ...and darkness [on the face of the depths]. "This refers to Greece who darkened the eyes of Israel with their decrees, in which they said to them: 'Write upon the horn of a bull -- that you do not have part in the God of Israel...'" (Midrash Genesis Rabba 2:4)

The Greeks wanted to sever our relationship to G-d and thereby extinguish the light of chen. To them only Yofi -- was real and worth worshipping. They were experts in seeing and expressing the stunning symmetry, harmony and physical beauty of the world through art and the study of science. Judaism also values the physical world. It honors art and science but only as long as it is subservient to the spiritual. In fact the numerical value of the Hebrew words for "art" [omanut, 497] and "science" [mada, 114] is equal to that of the word Torah [611].) Yofi without chen is like a body without a soul. It is dead and rots. There is no life to the external beauty of yofi (art and science) when pursued independent of Torah and the spiritual beauty of chen that is generates.

The Torah states in Genesis 9:27, "May God beautify Yefet and he will dwell in the tents of Shem." Yefet, the son of Noah, is the ancestor of Greece, and Shem is the father of the Semites -- Israel. The blessing of Yefet is only within the tent of Israel; only when it is subservient to the values and ideals of Torah.

The Talmud teaches that a beautiful spouse, a beautiful house, and beautiful objects expand a person's mind. Once I was visiting a friend who was in the throes of deciding whether to take a year after college to learn in Yeshiva or get to work and build his career. Spending a year in Yeshiva study would have meant a boost to his spiritual life, but a significant drop in his bank account. He quoted to me the above thought from the Talmud. "I think I could probably have a more beautiful house if I get moving with my career," he told me. "If I could make a lot of money, I could afford more beautiful furnishings. So why should I go to Yeshiva?" I replied: "The Talmud says those things will expand your mind. You have to decide how you are going to fill your expanded mind. If you have little to fill it with you will feel very empty. Physical beauty is only valuable when it serves the purposes of a Torah life."

The Midrash Shachar analyzes the word "Zion (Israel) spelled tzaddik - yud- vav- nun," and breaks it into its two components tzaddik - yud, vav, nun. The first letter, the tzaddik, represents the holy righteous Jew, while the last three letters, yud, vav, nun, spell out 'Yavan,' the Hebrew word for Greece. Israel and Greece --Torah, Art and Science -- must ultimately be united but the righteousness of Torah must take the lead.

Rabbi David Aaron Author of Endless Light, Seeing G-d, The Secret Life of G-d, Inviting G-d In and Living A Joyous Life

For more of Rabbi Aaron's Sparks, go to http://www.isralight.org/html/Sparks.htm#moresparks

(scroll down to see how you can order Rabbi Aaron's books online)

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Portion of Miketz A time comes in your life when you finally get it...when in the midst of all your fears and insanity you stop dead in your tracks and somewhere the voice inside your head cries out "Enough."

Enough fighting and crying or struggling to hold on. And, like a child quieting down after a blind tantrum, your sobs begin to subside, you shudder once or twice, you blink back your tears, and through a mantle of wet lashes you begin to look at the world through new eyes.

This is your awakening.

You come to terms with the fact that he is not Prince Charming and you are not Cinderella (or visa versa) and that in the real world there aren't always fairy- tale endings (or beginnings for that matter) and any guarantee of "happily ever after" must begin with you-and in the process, a sense of serenity is born from acceptance.

You stop complaining and blaming other people for things they did to you (or didn't do for you), and you learn that the only thing you can really count on is the unexpected. You learn that people don't always say what they mean or mean what they say and not everyone will always be there for you and that it's not always about you. So you learn to stand on your own and to take care of yourself and in the process, a sense of safety and security is born of self-reliance.

You stop judging and pointing fingers, and you begin to accept people as they are and to overlook their shortcomings and human frailties-and in the process a sense of peace and contentment is born of forgiveness.

You learn that it is truly in giving that we receive. And there is power and glory in creating and contributing.

You learn that you don't know everything, it's not your job to save the world, and that you can't teach a pig to sing.

You learn that anything worth achieving is worth working for and that wishing for something to happen is different from working towards making it happen.

You learn that life isn't always fair, you don't always get what you think you deserve, and that sometimes, bad things happen to unsuspecting, good people. On these occasions, you learn not to personalize things. You learn that G-d isn't punishing you or failing to answer your prayers. It's just life happening. And you learn to deal with evil in its most primal state-the ego. You learn that negative feelings such as anger, envy, and resentment must be understood and redirected or they will suffocate the life out of you and poison the universe that surrounds you.

You learn to admit when you are wrong and to build bridges instead of walls. You learn to be thankful and to take comfort in many of the simple things we take for granted, things that millions of the people upon the earth can only dream about: a full refrigerator, clean running water, a soft warm bed, a long hot shower. Slowly, you begin to take responsibility for yourself by yourself, and you make yourself a promise to never betray yourself and to never ever settle for less than your heart's desire.

You hang a wind chime outside your window so you can listen to the wind. And you make it a point to keep smiling, to keep trusting, and to stay open to every wonderful possibility.

Finally, with courage in your heart and with G-d by your side, you take a stand, you take a deep breath, and you begin to design the life you want to live as best you can.

Anonymous Awakenings. We all need them, but how do we achieve them? This week's portion, Miketz, begins with a fascinating story that gives us a glimpse into the possibility of awakenings.

Joseph, an imprisoned slave in Egypt, is called to the palace to interpret the dreams of the great Pharaoh.

Pharaoh is deeply troubled by two dreams that apparently leave him no rest. Seven seemingly healthy wheat-stalks are devoured by seven dying ones, and then, in a second dream, seven fat, robust cows are devoured by seven sickly, dying ones.

Joseph's interpretation: Egypt will experience seven years of plenty, followed by seven years of famine that will overshadow or 'devour' the previous years of plenty.

Now Pharaoh needs a plan, and Joseph offers the solution: Stockpile during the seven years of plenty, and distribute food in exchange for land during the years of famine. This will not only allow Egypt to survive the difficult famine, but will also serve to consolidate her status as the economic power in the region.

Ultimately, Joseph is appointed viceroy and as the second highest official in Egypt becomes the instrument for affecting this policy.

This entire scenario is nothing short of incredible. Joseph's solution does not seem to be a stroke of genius; why are all the advisors and ministers of Egypt, the greatest country on earth at the time, incapable of arriving at this same conclusion?

Additionally, the idea of the ruler of the empire actually soliciting and relying on the interpretation of a slave wallowing in prison, not to mention subsequently asking for his solution to his own interpretation, resulting in the appointment of said slave to one of the highest posts in the world, is absurd. What is really going on here?

Incidentally, this portion of Miketz is always read on the festival of Chanukah. Is there some relationship between the story of Chanukah we are currently commemorating, and the rise of Joseph to power in Egypt?

Dreams are an opportunity for us to discover more about who we are, where we are really at, and what is in our hearts and minds. Of course, their ability to impact our lives depends entirely on our ability to interpret them. So everything depends on our perspective, and often on our success in changing our perspectives, or seeing things outside of the box.

Joseph in ancient Egypt represented an entirely different way of seeing things.

The ancient Egyptians worshipped nature as the source of all life. They worshipped the power of nature, as well as idolized all aspects of the natural order. Thus, they deified the Nile, which they felt was the source of all sustenance in this world. Central to their ideology and beliefs, therefore, was the concept that the strong survive, and might makes right, as nature dictates.

The idea, therefore, that pale, dying, sickly animals could be devoured by fat, healthy ones was contrary to the natural order and everything they believed. After all, the lesson of nature is that the strong survive and the weak perish. Survival of the fittest was not just a lesson of the environment; it was an ideal to live by.

Perhaps, therefore, the Egyptians, locked as they were in their own mindset, were incapable of seeing things from a different perspective. Perhaps they were in need of an awakening. Indeed, the emergence of the Jewish people on the world scene may well have been indicative of the fact that the world was in need of just such an awakening.

It is interesting to note just what Joseph's solution was. Taken from the perspective of the ancient, pagan Egyptian, it may well have been a radical proposal. After all, famine is just nature's way of cleansing. The strong survive, and the weak perish, and along with them the diseases and problems they carry which are, in the end, burdens on society. And there is no over-population. The idea of stockpiling food in order to save the population, not to mention parceling out food to other populations in the region, something which ostensibly could undermine their ability to consolidate their position as the power in the region, may well have been counter to everything ancient Egypt stood for.

(And Pharaoh, in agreeing to call for Joseph, a lowly slave to begin with, may actually be effecting an interpretation of his own: perhaps we need to hear what the 'sickly, weak bushel of wheat' has to say...)

Joseph offers Egypt a different way of seeing things. Life doesn't have to be that way; the strong and the weak can live side by side and help each other. Ultimately, in becoming the viceroy of Egypt, Joseph will have the chance to practice what he preaches. From the darkness of a jail cell, seemingly forgotten and insignificant, Joseph will ultimately bring to the ancient world its first awakening.

A thousand years later, the Greeks too worshipped nature; they deified beauty; and saw as the ideal all things beautiful in nature. This worship of nature opened the door, giving license to all the most basic urges of man.

The Greeks built gymnasiums where man could develop his body; the pursuit of the perfect body was expressed in Greek sculpture and art. The people entertained themselves in the stadiums, where men honed their physical skills, developing animal-like prowess and cunning. Man no longer served G- d; man was god. Hence the gods of Greece were men. And the qualities worshipped in those gods were all the qualities men could achieve: love and beauty, courage and agility, strength and speed.Thus could Antiochus Epiphanes erect idols of himself. He was after all, the highest of men; he had achieved all that man could achieve: power and might, strength and cunning. He was, therefore, the most powerful god in the world. (Interestingly, Epiphanes means 'I am G-d').

Judaism, however, has a different dream, not of fashioning a G-d of the world, but of bringing G-d into the world. It does not see the body as a goal, but as a tool in the service of G-d.

Here too, a small band of priests and farmers, revolting against mighty Greece in 168 BCE, taught the world that might does not make right, and that power is not the goal, it is merely a tool.

The animal side of man, worshipped by the pagan world, is not to be idolized; not made the ideal; rather, it is to be channeled, even directed, in the pursuit of a relationship with G-d.

To be sure, there is a beauty in nature, magnificence, even. But it is precisely that beauty that can lead man to find G-d in the world, not to ignore Him.

And this really is the central message of Chanukah: that the victory was meaningless if it was only in the service of man. What made it significant for Jews everywhere, forever, was the recognition of a greater truth: the re-dedication of the Temple, and the re-establishment of man as serving G-d.

In fact, the name Chanukah also stems from the root word "Chen", meaning Beauty. And one of the issues, central to all that Chanukah represents, is the real meaning of beauty. The Greeks worshipped beauty as part of nature; and they considered themselves experts on this beauty. Greek beauty, however, is external; it focuses on the symmetry in nature, and aspires to recreate this in man, and in all that man does. It is about what we see, but not about who we are and who we can become. Greek beauty is about the perfect body; but it neglects the perfection of character; it strives to perfect the physical self; but denies the spiritual self within.

Judaism's perception is quite different: beauty is inner symmetry; the perfection of my neshama, the soul within me; that part of me that strives to come close to G-d.

Physical beauty is only valuable if it is a vessel for real, inner beauty. Judaism sees the beauty of harmony in the world; but not just external harmony; the homogeny of purpose; the beauty in understanding the true meaning of our being; the struggle with the existential question of why we are here; what our purpose on this earth is. The Greeks, whose religion was essentially hedonism, had a very straightforward response to this question: we are here to have a good time; to make the most of the time we have.

The Jews, on the other hand, believe that we are here to perfect the world; to make the world a better place. In doing this we become partners with G-d. Hence, the name 'Chanukah' expresses the essence of the holiday's role in conveying this message to mankind.

Perhaps this ideological difference is at the root of our celebration of Chanukah.

If Chanukah were about military victory, there wouldn't really be that much to celebrate. In fact, the newly found independence of the Hasmonean dynasty lasted a scant quarter-century, before giving way to the new master: Rome. And even in its heyday, it comprised barely 35 square miles around Jerusalem, and a strip of land in what is today the Gaza strip; hardly an accomplishment worthy of so much fuss. No, clearly, the celebration is of something far deeper, far more lasting, than the defeat of a few Greek soldiers.

Chanukah was coming, and the Jews were dreading its' arrival; the Nazis always liked to play games on Jewish holidays. There was one boy, about to turn thirteen, who could not imagine his bar mitzvah Chanukah passing by without any celebration. So, a couple of weeks before Chanukah, he began to save little scraps of his meager potato ration, hoping to use it as oil. Every day, he set aside a little piece of potato and placed it in his pocket. He ripped threads from his camp uniform and fashioned them into wicks. When the first night of Chanukah arrived, word spread that there was a boy lighting Chanukah candles; the barrack was soon filled with inmates. One could sense the despair, as the Jews looked around at their reality, and recalled happier times, when Chanukah was so full of light.

All eyes were on the boy as he made his way to the back of the barrack, knelt down on the floor, and prepared his candles. Any act of religious expression in the camps was a crime punishable by death; this child was not only risking his life, but the lives of the entire barrack. But no one said a word. Total silence filled the room, as the boy lit the flame and began the recitation of the blessings.

"Blessed art thou...who has sanctified us...and commanded us to light the candles of Chanukah."

Lighting candles in Bergen Belsen? Was there ever any place as dark as that place in the shadows of the crematoria?

"Blessed art thou...who performed miracles for our ancestors; in those days and in our time as well"

Did G-d have any miracles left, here in the valley of death?

A crash, as the door burst open; an SS officer stood in the doorway, resplendent in his black uniform; the death's head insignia gleaming. The crowd of inmates parted as he strode to the back of the barracks, the only sound, his footsteps approaching the little boy.

"Get rid of those candles, schnell!" screamed the officer in a rage.

The boy looked up at the officer, and back again at the candles; and in a quiet voice, that resonated in the barracks, responded:

"But sir, today is Chanukah; and on Chanukah we don't extinguish light, we bring it into the world."

The silence between the officer and the boy was deafening; and then, by some miracle, the officer inexplicably turned and strode out of the barracks.

Why is lighting the candles of the Menorah so critical to Chanukah?

Why was it so important, in the story of Chanukah, to light the Menorah in the Temple? There is, after all, no mention of any of the other ritual ceremonies: the burning of incense, the offering of sacrifices, and the showbread; to name but a few.

A Menorah is about giving light. What is the purpose of light? Light itself allows man to see, and consequently to derive pleasure from, the world around him. This, however, is most certainly not the idea behind lighting the candles on Chanukah. One of the prayers traditionally recited when lighting the Chanukah lights, is the "Nerot Halalu" prayer:

"Ve'Ein Lanu Reshut Le'Hishtamesh Ba'hem" 'We have no permission to use them'.

We are not meant to benefit physically from these candles; neither to read by their light, nor to use the heat of their fire for any pleasure or gain.

"E'la LirO'tam Bilvad" 'We are only to see them.' Sometimes we need to take a step back and just appreciate the light. We need to see all the light in the world around us, and in our lives, and we need to recall that we are here, in the end only to bring light.

And that light is not about what I can get, nor how much I can conquer, it is all about what I can give.

Two thousand years ago, after a horrific war against the mightiest empire on the face of the earth, the Jews re-conquered the Temple and discovered pigs running around the altar, and an idol of Jupiter in the Holy of Holies. But after all that, there was no rage, all they wanted to do was to light the menorah. All the Jews have ever wanted to do is bring a little light into the world.

Chanukah, then, like Joseph's message so long ago, is an opportunity to re-experience that light. To recall that the greatest gift we can give, is the gift of light.

This too, was a message the world needed to hear; this was the awakening of Chanukah.

Four thousand years ago a single individual, alone and bereft, gave the world a message it needed to hear. Two thousand years ago, a small nation, alone and bereft, again gave the world a message it needed to hear.

Today, alone amongst the community of nations, Israel has a message the world needs to hear. It is time to kindle the flame that will bring light back into the world. It is time for an awakening.

May Hashem bless us all, as individuals, as a people, and as a world, to experience the awakening we all so desperately need. As the verse in the prayers after a meal suggests:

"Az Hayinu Ke'Cholmim" "Then we will be like dreamers", awakening from a long dream, to discover the clarity of morning...

Best wishes to all for a Shabbat Shalom as well as a sweet and wonderful Chanukah full of light...

R.Binny Freedman

Isralight | P.O. Box 880943 | Boca Raton | FL | 33488-0943

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