A Chanuka Message from Nomi and Elan

We are in the midst of celebrating Chanukah, and our victory over the Greeks those many years ago. On Shabbat Chanukah, the worlds of Yosef HaTzadik and the Chashmonaim come together, and through Derech HaAvot we can achieve a deeper understanding of the essence of the battle against the Greeks, and perhaps gain some insight and some chizuk for our daily lives.
The last Rashi in Parshat VaYeshev is very puzzling. After interpreting the dreams of his cellmates, Yosef asks the wine minister, who is to live, to put in a good word for him with Paroh, that maybe he, too, can be released from prison. The minister then goes free and subsequently forgets Yosef until two years later when Paroh is plagued by his dreams. Rashi writes that Yosef was forgotten because of his lack of Emunah – he should not have asked the wine minister for help, but rather relied on G-d to save him from all his troubles. The obvious questions beg to be asked: Did Yosef really have a lack of Emunah in Hashem?! Do we not believe in taking action in our lives, and not relying solely Hashem to save us – אין סומכין על הנס??

After Yosef was freed from jail, we can see that he does not repeat this mistake, and while interpreting Paroh's dreams he mentions the name of G-d no less than five times, and even Paroh, the head idol of an idol-worshipping kingdom, declares that he has never seen anyone with such a G-dly spirit (41; 38).

We see this aspect of Yosef at the beginning of exile to Egypt as well. While working in the house of Potifar, his master notices that Hashem is with him (38;3), and Rashi on this pasuk explains that the name of G-d was constantly in the mouth of Yosef, thereby marking him a man of G-d.
Rashi points out this trait earlier in Bereshit as well, by Yosef's father. When Yaakov, dressed as Esav, went to get the blessing from his father, he says that Hashem helped him find food quickly, (27;20) and Yitzchak gets suspicious because, as Rashi explains, it was the practice of Yaakov to constantly have the name of Hashem on his lips.

This trait is additionally found by Avraham. Rashi tell us (24;7) that as a result of all of Avraham's work in the world, the people of the nations always had G-d on their lips. So to, we see that Avraham and also Yitzchak always named places using the name of G-d.
Looking at the whole picture, we can see that each of the Avot gave center stage to the presence of G-d in their life. Whether naming places, finding food, serving as a slave or speaking in front of a powerful king, the message they bring to us is that Hashem should always be right there, a constant presence in every aspect of our lives.

Skipping forward to Chanuka, the midrash (VaYikra Rabba 13;5) reveals that the Greeks commanded the Jews to write on the horn of a bull – קרן השור – that they had no connection to the G-d of Israel. In commanding this, the Greeks hoped to do away with this special characteristic that was passed down from our forefathers. They hoped in this way that we would eliminate G-d from our daily lives, and live just like them in their Hellenistic society.
The Maharal (נר מצוה) explains that by using the horn of a bull, they wanted to remind the Jews of the Sin of the Golden Calf. They wanted to say that even though we claim to have had a G-dly revelation at Sinai, the truth came out immediately afterwards, when we sinned, and that is who we really are as a nation.

As the saying goes, "If at first you don't succeed, try again." Sometimes that's a very daunting task, and a seemingly easier phrase by which to live would say "If at first you don't succeed – lower your standards." When living at a lower standard, there are far fewer responsibilities and expectations, and far fewer obstacles to overcome. According to the Maharal, the Greeks wanted to tell us that we had not succeeded – so we might as well lower our standards. They wanted to say that we could never reach to such heights as was expected of us, so we should just quit now, because we have already failed. In this way, they hoped to convince us to abandon our G-d and our religion, and join them as they conquered the world and spread their Hellenistic beliefs.
Now we can understand the puzzling Rashi from the beginning. Yosef did not actually do anything essentially wrong, but he lowered his standards, and that was his sin. After so many years of being in exile and keeping G-d in his mouth, he reaches a low point and succumbs to the pressure. However, Yosef does teshuva and raises himself up, returning to the high standard at which he always held himself. He could have given up entirely, told himself that although he was still the same person, he was no longer living in the same world as Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov, and been happy at a lower standard, but he refused to give up and go down, and that is the greatness of Yosef HaTzadik. He stayed strong in his exile, and ultimately succeeded in bringing G-d's name even to the deepest corner of Egypt, the house of Paroh.
This was the victory of Chanuka – the refusal of our people to lower their standards, and their steadfast determination to live at a high level.

The Lubavitcher Rebbe writes that the reason people eventually stop living at the high standard they once did is because when they make a mistake – as every human being does – instead of getting up and trying again, they grow complacent with their part in life, and no longer try to move forward. They excuse their mistakes, by claiming that they are no longer who they once were. This is the voice of the Greeks, the attack that the Chashmonaim overcame.
May we take the strength that Yosef showed in Egypt, and the strength that the Chashmonaim showed against the Greeks, and find the strength within ourselves to bring Hashem back to the center and the essence of our lives.

Shabbat Shalom!
Chag Chanukah Sameach!
BeAhava, Nomi, Elan and Soshana (the Mazer family)