Sparks Amidst the Darkness

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

This week, we begin the study of Seder Shemos, recounting the story of Yaakov’s descendants in Mitzrayim. First, we learn of their subjugation and servitude, followed by their eventual freedom and redemption. Finally, we see how they became a nation at Har Sinai and the construction of the Mishkon.

The era of the avos has ended, and now the era of their children, the Bnei Yisroel, begins. After a rough start, they ultimately rise to the expectations placed upon them and earn the Torah, the mitzvos, and a profound connection to Hashem.

Jews are often compared to the moon, going through periods of contraction and darkness, which are always followed by periods of remarkable rejuvenation and growth. This has been the case since our earliest days in Mitzrayim, and it remains true today. Not so long ago, we were decimated and nearly lost, yet slowly but steadily, we have surged back, and in many ways, we are stronger than ever.

In Lakewood alone, there are some 40,000 children in elementary schools, 4,500 talmidei chachomim studying Maseches Yevamos in Bais Medrash Govoah and many thousands more than in the past millennium learning all the masechtos of Shas there. This doesn’t even account for what’s happening in other cities and towns across the United States, in Eretz Yisroel, and around the world.

It all began with the freed slaves who emerged from Mitzrayim and stood at Har Sinai. We have come a long way since then, though we are still in golus, struggling to find our place. Many of us continue to do our best, and always at the forefront of our minds is the deep yearning to return home to Eretz Yisroel.

Yerushalayim calls to us, even as we have learned to live in golus. In our hearts, we know that we do not truly belong here, and we understand how easily the good days can come to an abrupt end. We know we are meant to be separate, holy, living on a higher plane, and following in the footsteps of our great-grandparents who led lives of physical simplicity and spiritual greatness. With mesirus nefesh, they steadfastly refused to deviate from the teachings of their parents and teachers, despite the cost.

In the modern era, it has become difficult to live as they did and to keep future generations on the path of modesty, self-restraint, innocence, and virtue. Torah flourishes all around us, but we need it to grow within us as well.

We can only achieve this by dedicating ourselves to Torah study, learning Gemara with its meforshim, Rishonim, and Acharonim, and studying classic sifrei mussar, which serve to elevate, purify, and ground us.

When we study the weekly parsha, reviewing and striving to understand the eternal words and lessons of the pesukim, they remind us of who we are meant to be. The lessons are clear, laid out for us and reinforced week after week by our rabbeim and rabbonim, who educate us on what our priorities should be. The lessons of the weekly sedrah remind us of where we came from, how we should behave, and what we should strive for. Through them, we can find success and fulfillment, achieving the goals and purposes that the Creator has set for us.

By studying the parsha each week and nurturing our neshamos through limud haTorah, we are kept grounded in a world where fiction often masquerades as truth and people put more effort into appearances than into true achievement.

It doesn’t take a genius to recognize the corruption and incompetence that reign around the world. Yet, millions of people see what we see, and time and time again, they elect leaders who embody those very qualities. They vote for candidates whose platforms are built on lies, who do little more than read speeches written by others, and who, once in office, raise taxes, contribute to moral decay, and prove themselves incapable of fulfilling the responsibilities they were entrusted with.

Many argue that there is little difference between candidates from the two major parties. However, consider the consequences of the current president’s tenure. Under his administration, inflation skyrocketed to near-historic levels, depleting your finances every time you make a purchase. Nearly every aspect of life has seen rising costs, while value and quality have sharply declined over the past four years. He has consistently supported and empowered individuals whose actions threaten to undermine the moral foundation of this country. The list of disasters he has caused and exacerbated—both domestically and internationally—is too extensive to list here. However, one thing can be said: The only silver lining is that his time in office is soon coming to an end.

California is a beautiful state, a veritable paradise, but much of it is being ruined by misguided leadership. Fires rage out of control, causing astronomical damage. The apocalyptic images of terrifying destruction continue to plague people as the infernos burn. The authorities, from the ambitious governor on down, have been shown to be completely inept in managing the state, contributing to the very catastrophe people have been warning about for years.

Due to their laws and agendas, the main reservoir was emptied, the fire department was more focused on diversifying its firefighting force than improving it, the fire hydrants didn’t work, and there simply wasn’t enough water, all due to misguided environmental practices. When the Los Angeles mayor heard about a devastating fire starting, she quickly flew to Africa, only to return in a panic, revealing her incompetence.

When we witness the results of errant leadership, we are reminded of what happens when people fail to use the common sense Hashem has granted them. If we are yirei Hashem, we must learn from what we see around us and strive to improve ourselves. When we see the destruction caused by evil, irresponsible actions, we should learn from those experiences and quickly mend our ways.

We should turn to the pesukim and see how our avos conducted themselves and how Hashem directed them. When we daven, we should do so with more kavonah, taking time to say each word properly and think about what we are saying.

When reciting Krias Shema twice daily, slowly and carefully, we say the words, “Vechorah af Hashem bochem v’otzar es hashomayim velo yihiyeh motor,” meaning that if you conduct yourselves improperly, Hashem will shut the heavens and there will be no rain.

To understand the significance of this, we need only look at the multi-million-dollar mansions that were quickly reduced to ashes. People who thought they were invincible, whose castles could withstand anything, learned a very quick lesson about the vulnerability of man.

Despite their wealth and status, they were reminded that material possessions, no matter how opulent or carefully protected, can be destroyed in an instant by forces beyond their control. The experience highlights the precariousness of even the most extravagant empires, showing the fragility of security and the limits of wealth in the face of Hakadosh Boruch Hu’s power. It also serves as a reminder that true stability and safety cannot be bought. They must be earned.

We are a people set apart, called to embody purpose and conviction. We were created to stand for something greater, with values that run deep and are held with unwavering sincerity. We, as a people, are not meant to be corrupt or immoral, nor are we to worship wealth or those who possess it. Our calling is not merely to speak of our values, but to live by them, every day, in every way. We are to uphold them with integrity and to respect only those who do the same.

In this week’s parsha, we are introduced to Moshe Rabbeinu. After a blissful childhood in the royal palace, upon his first exit from Paroh’s compound, he witnessed the suffering of his enslaved brethren. He also came upon two evil individuals and reprimanded one for slapping the other. For this act, he was forced to flee to Midyon. Speaking of “come-downs,” he went from a pampered life to working with sheep as a lowly shepherd in the blink of an eye. But as with everything else in life, this shift was arranged by Hakadosh Boruch Hu, who had far greater plans for Moshe Rabbeinu.

One day, as he was leading the sheep to pasture on Har Choreiv, he noticed a burning bush. As the fire raged, he observed that the bush’s branches were not being consumed.

Moshe approached the bush to investigate this strange phenomenon. He thought that perhaps something supernatural was happening and that there might be a lesson in this occurrence for him. He sensed a hidden sanctity in the blaze.

Hashem called out to him from the bush and told him that he was standing on holy ground. Hashem then instructed him to return to Mitzrayim and lead His people to freedom in the Promised Land.

Hashem chose Moshe as the leader of the Jewish people because, instead of ignoring the burning bush, he approached it and recognized holiness. Though he was in a desert, his life was centered around kedusha, and wherever he went, he searched for kedusha.

When Moshe saw a fire burning without being fueled as a natural fire would be, he stopped. Perhaps he had stumbled upon the kedusha he had been seeking. In the darkness of a strange land, amidst the emptiness of a desert, he found it.

This moment identified Moshe as the one who could lead the children of Avrohom, Yitzchok, and Yaakov from the depths of Mitzrayim. As we exist in golus, the ability to distinguish fact from fiction, and holy from vile, is paramount. Striving for a life of kedusha and constantly seeking kedusha by examining and learning from our daily encounters is what keeps us on the path from golus to geulah.

Throughout our history, our leaders have been able to perceive holiness where others saw emptiness. They saw holy sparks where others saw darkness, and they found glory in a lowly bush with no chance for growth.

In golus, there are times when people want to give up. They see danger, they see destruction, they feel social hatred and cultural depravity on all sides, and they think it’s over. They see people who have erred and veered from the holy path, and they give up on them. They think that nothing good will ever come from them. They are burnt out. Yet, the good and the great see sparks of holiness waiting to be ignited.

Each week, as the melava malka candles flicker, we gaze at them and reflect on the sublime joy of Shabbos, wondering how we’ll face another week—six more days of zei’as apecha—until we can experience Shabbos again.

The transition from Shabbos to Motzoei Shabbos mirrors what the Bnei Yisroel faced as they left Eretz Yisroel and moved to Mitzrayim to escape hunger. They left behind light and holiness and descended into darkness and defilement.

We partake of melava malka to ease that transition. We sing “Al tira avdi Yaakov.” We say, “Do not fear. You are equipped with the strength and ability to rise above it all and remain true to yourselves, to each other, and to the Torah if you remain loyal to the teachings and lessons transmitted from one generation to the next from avdi Yaakov.”

“Hakol kol Yaakov.” With the calm voice of Yaakov, with the restrained middos of Yaakov, with the temimus of Yaakov, and with the dedication to Torah that Yaakov personified, we can overcome.

We can bring salvation to those who suffer. We can push back against those who torment us. We can overcome the challenges that threaten us. We can support those who are struggling and return those who have fallen away.

We press on, always growing, moving upward, and reaching new heights every day. Each day represents an opportunity to improve in Torah, kedusha, emunah, and bitachon. We observe the world around us and learn lessons from watching others falter.

We witness natural occurrences and pause to ponder, think, and grow from what we have seen.

Where others see darkness, we see the boundless potential for light to emerge. Where others are lost in loneliness, we recognize the profound opportunity to extend friendship, connection, and community. Where others witness destruction and fires consuming all in their path, we see fertile ground for renewal—an opportunity to rebuild, re-grow, and cultivate something even more beautiful and lasting than before.

We do not shy away from the challenges before us. Instead, we embrace them, knowing that within every hardship lies the seed of transformation. In every shadow, we discern the dawn of hope, and in every setback, we sense the chance to rise higher until we merit the coming of Moshiach speedily in our day.

Believe in Yourself

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

With Parshas Vayechi, the fascinating sefer of Bereishis draws to a close. Without giving any detail about anything that went on in Yaakov’s life during his seventeen years in Mitzrayim, the Torah skips to the period when he was weakening and approaching death. Yaakov called for Yosef and made him swear that he would guarantee his burial in the Meoras Hamachpeilah with Avrohom and Yitzchok.

The pesukim go into detail about Yaakov’s discussions with Yosef concerning Efraim and Menashe before telling us that Yaakov gathered his sons for them to hear what would happen to them in the times of Moshiach. The pesukim don’t tell us what he told them, and Chazal teach that Hashem prevented him from revealing those secrets.

Yaakov then launches into a poetic conversation with his sons. The conversation is referred to by the posuk (49:28) as brachos that Yaakov transmitted to his beloved children prior to his passing. However, if you examine the pesukim and what he told them, they don’t appear to be brachos, but rather a verbalization of each son’s attributes, mostly positive, but some negative. If so, why do we refer to what he said as brachos?

Rav Chaim Soloveitchik was once trying to make a point to a student at the Volozhiner Yeshiva who was falling behind in his learning. He spoke to him and said, “You know, my dear talmid, that the horse is a very strong animal, constructed of muscle. It can work hard, run fast, pull heavy loads, and perform a variety of tasks. Yet, this animal is pulled by a youngster with a rope and never thinks of trampling the youngster and breaking free. When the horse’s owner, who has ridden on its back for long stretches of time, reaches his destination, he ties his horse to a simple post with a simple rope, and the horse just stands there and doesn’t try to run away.

“Why is it that such a strong beast is so docile?” asked Rav Chaim. “It is because the horse doesn’t appreciate its strength. If it would, a piece of rope would never be able to contain it.

“The reason you are not doing better in your learning is because you don’t appreciate your kochos.”

Similarly, Yaakov, upon addressing his children one last time, gave them what they needed to excel and carry out their missions. He did this not by blessing them per se, but by enumerating for each one their strengths and abilities. By doing this, he gave them the encouragement and motivation they would need to be proper Shivtei Kah. Thus, they and their shevet would be able to live up to what was expected of them in Eretz Yisroel and in golus, building and strengthening Yiddishkeit and preparing the world for the ultimate geulah.

There is no better brocha than appreciating our gifts and using them for the tachlis for which Hashem placed us on this earth. Otherwise, we can go through life living simply, not learning or accomplishing much, blissfully unaware of our potential for greatness and ability to accomplish great things.

A person who doesn’t appreciate his strengths, or is not aware of them, is held back from excelling and fulfilling his shlichus, much the same as that Volozhiner talmid who was not able to keep up with the others.

Also, the ability of a person to recognize his gifts and strengths is vital for personal growth, fulfillment, and contributing meaningfully to society. When a person acknowledges his abilities, he not only gains self-confidence, but also cultivates a deeper sense of purpose. This awareness enables us to navigate challenges, pursue goals, and contribute positively to the world around us.

Self-awareness is key to unlocking our potential. Moreover, recognizing our strengths builds self-confidence. Confidence is not about arrogance or superiority, but about a grounded belief in a person’s singular abilities. Appreciating the gifts Hashem has endowed us with also helps us face challenges with a sense of assurance, knowing that Hashem provided us with the tools and skills to navigate difficult situations. Life is full of ups and downs, and those who understand their strengths are better equipped to overcome setbacks with a positive attitude.

This also answers the Ramban’s question of why Yaakov made Yosef swear that he would make sure that Yaakov would be buried in the Meoras Hamachpeilah. Why was it necessary for Yosef to swear that he would fulfill his father’s request? Did Yaakov not trust his beloved son?

We can explain that Yaakov feared that the Mitzriyim would raise objections to removing him out of the country for burial. He wanted Yosef to know that his father believed that he had the ability to carry out his wish. By swearing, Yosef confirmed that he recognized that despite how difficult this would be, he possessed the power to see it through to the end.

Often, when people would ask the Steipler Gaon to daven for them, he would tell them that they should daven for themselves. Every person has the ability to cry out to Hashem, and if he does so with proper kavonah, emunah, and bitachon, Hashem will respond to his tefillos. Hashem never forsakes a Jew and is always watching over him, waiting for the person to properly reach out to Him. No Jew is ever alone.

The Klausenberger Rebbe was raising money to build his Laniado Hospital in Netanya. He went to see a wealthy man and asked him for a handsome donation for the project. The man heard the pitch, but was noncommittal in his response. He told the rebbe, “I’ll do what I can,” which usually means not too much.

The rebbe responded, “Do you know what you are capable of doing? Do you really think that you know what you can do? A person has no idea of his capabilities.”

He continued, “Let me tell you about myself. I was already a Rebbe before the war. I lived in the city of Klausenburg and was immersed in avodas Hashem day and night. As a result, I was weak and sickly. When I wanted to bring a Gemara to the shiur I was saying, I didn’t have the strength to carry it and would ask a talmid to carry it for me. The gabbai would carry my tallis and tefillin because they were also too heavy for me to carry.

“Then the war broke out and I was imprisoned in numerous labor camps. When I was in the Mühldorf concentration camp, the Nazis would give me 110-pound bags of cement to carry on back. And, do you know what? I did it!

“How was it possible? The answer is that a person does not know what he is capable of doing. He thinks that a task is too difficult for him, but he really has the strength to do that and a lot more. So be careful when you say that you will do what you can, because you have no idea what you are obligating yourself to!”

Yosef had been tested and had demonstrated his spiritual strength in a degenerate society. Mitzrayim was infamous for its culture of moral decay. By maintaining his righteousness in such an environment, Yosef attained a stature almost comparable to that of the avos. He imbued his descendants and all of Klal Yisroel with the spiritual fortitude to rise above temptation and seductive influences in all their lands of exile.

When Yosef brings his sons to Yaakov for a final brocha, Yaakov blesses them with the immortal words, “Becha yevoreich Yisroel leimor, yesimcha Elokim k’Efraim v’ch’Menashe.” For all time, Jewish fathers will bless their children that they grow to be like Efraim and Menashe, the sons of Yosef.

A hint to the reason why may be found in the first Rashi of the parsha. Parshas Vayechi is unique in that it is setumah, meaning that there is no extra space between it and the preceding parsha, unlike the general rule that a parsha begins on a new line or that it is separated from the previous one by a space of nine letters. In explaining why the parsha is setumah, Rashi notes that with the passing of Yaakov Avinu, the shibud intensified. In other words, the golus of Mitzrayim – particularly the pain and the challenge of being a lonely minority in a hostile environment – first began to manifest at this point.

When Yaakov realized that his end was near, he decided that it was time to prepare his children and their children and descendants for life in golus.

Yosef was the son who had arrived first in golus and had paved the way for the Bnei Yisroel there. Though Yosef lived alone in golus, he lived an exemplary life, raising worthy, upright children. Yaakov singled them out for praise and showcased them as an example of how Jews all through the generations would be able to survive the golus.

Living alone in the swamp of evil, their father imbued them with the strength he knew that he had and made sure they did too. Yaakov demonstrated to the other shevotim and to Jews for all time that even in darkness, even in exile, even when all alone, they all possessed the strength of Yosef and his children and would be able to remain gutteh Yidden.

Yaakov turned to Menashe and Efraim and said, “Becha yevoreich Yisroel,” because although they were born in and grew up in Mitzrayim, before Yaakov came and before Yehudah set up yeshivos in their country, they still were as holy as their cousins who had grown up under the direct influence of Yaakov.

Yaakov said that for all time, wherever they find themselves, Jews should study the example of these two scions of greatness and point to them as examples of how they want their own children to develop, despite the tumah and moral bankruptcy around them.

Yosef and his children not only demonstrated that the offspring of Yaakov have the ability to live and excel anywhere the golus leads them, but Yosef is also the one who paves the way for geulah. He is the one who returned Yaakov to Eretz Yisroel. He is the one who will defeat Eisov. He is the one who will herald the coming of Moshiach, because he was the first to be tested in golus and thus first to recognize his strengths, which lifted him and enabled him to raise children equal to the shevotim, showing them and us the way, not only to survive, but to be a shining example for all time of tzidkus and prishus.

Let us never say that the task is too difficult for us. Let us never say that we are doomed to mediocrity and the limitations of what we can learn and accomplish.

At times, people fall into the trap of believing that their current circumstances or past failures define their potential. This mindset can create a false sense of security in the ordinary and prevent one from striving for excellence. Mediocrity, though comfortable, stifles growth and keeps people from reaching the heights of their true capabilities. When we view ourselves as incapable of more, we shut the door on the opportunities that lie beyond our self-imposed boundaries.

When we say that Gemara is too difficult for us to understand, when we say that we can never understand a Reb Chaim, when we say that our minds weren’t made to work out a machlokes between Rashi and Tosafos, it is because we sell ourselves short and don’t believe in our brainpower. If we would apply ourselves, believe in our abilities, and work hard, horeving on the sugya, we would understand it and enjoy it.

People are usually capable of more than they think. Growth requires a shift in perspective. We must be able to understand that we are not limited by past experiences or present circumstances, but are capable of learning, evolving, and surpassing what we think is possible. Mediocrity sets in when we settle for “good enough” and don’t push ourselves to do better, be better, and reach higher.

Excellence is not reserved for a select few. It is within everyone’s reach. To attain it, we need to have the courage to push beyond self-doubt. The path to excelling in life is paved with tefillah, emunah, and bitachon, along with hard work and self-belief.

We would do ourselves well to constantly be aware that Hashem endowed us with tremendous strengths and abilities, and every person’s strengths are different. Hashem gave us what we need to pursue excellence in Torah, in tefillah, and in doing mitzvos properly and in a timely and preferred fashion. He gave us what we need to do well in yeshiva and school. He gave us what we need to get married and then provide for our families. He gave us what we need to get through life in a successful and fulfilling way.

All we have to do is appreciate those gifts, recognize how blessed we are as children of Avrohom, Yitzchok, and Yaakov, and know that each one of us can be like Efraim and Menashe.

Brothers

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

This week, in Parshas Vayigash, Yosef breaks down and ends the charade he had been maintaining with his brothers. Each time they came to Mitzrayim seeking food for their families, Yosef found ways to torment them. In last week’s parsha, we learned how he forced them to bring their youngest brother, Binyomin, and then threatened to imprison him along with Shimon.

Though the brothers had accepted his strange conditions until now, Yehudah let him know that they were not going to accede to his latest demand. For the first time, Yehudah spoke back strongly to Yosef. While the brothers had gone along with Yosef’s terms regarding the other matters, they could not jeopardize Binyomin’s freedom. All along, their need for food forced them to play along with the viceroy’s strange behavior and demands, though they were totally out of line and not sensible. As the leader of the brothers, Yehudah took upon himself the task of spokesman.

Yosef was overcome when he saw how much his brothers cared for each other. Furthermore, Yosef had overheard their discussions during their earlier trip to Mitzrayim, when they expressed regret over selling him and acknowledged that they had not properly understood the pain they caused him (Bereishis 42:21-22). Although they had initially reasoned that Yosef deserved to be sold, they began to feel that they had made a mistake and repented.

With their brotherly feelings toward Yosef restored, and their concern for Binyomin clearly evident, Yosef realized that his objective had been achieved. There was no longer a need to torment his brothers. The brotherly love and unity had been revived, and now the shevotim could move forward in fulfilling Hashem’s plan for the formation of Am Yisroel.

As for the way they had treated him, Yosef let them know that as a person who had bitachon in Hashem, he knew that the brothers were only pawns in Hashem’s plan. Thus, after revealing himself to them, he said (45:8) “It wasn’t you who sent me here. It was Hashem, Who placed me in the position of an assistant to Paroh and a ruler of the country.”

Yosef didn’t bear a grudge against his brothers, because he understood that they were Hashem’s messengers, who were like actors reading lines that were written for them and taking part in a plan designed for a higher purpose. A person with bitachon doesn’t carry around resentment against other people. What they did to him was not their fault, and it was done for a good reason, which will be revealed in the future. Yosef had already seen some of the reasons that Hashem had caused his brothers to hate him and sell him into slavery.

[Besides, harboring resentment is never beneficial. It leads to bitterness, negativity, and anger—none of which are helpful or productive, and they certainly won’t help you achieve anything.]

Yosef and Binyomin embraced each other and wept. Chazal teach that their tears were not for the pain of separation or the joy of reunion, nor were they mourning their mother, whose tears would later define a nation. Rather, they wept over the future destruction of Mishkan Shiloh, which would be located in the portion of Yosef in Eretz Yisroel, and the two Botei Mikdosh that would be built in the portion of Binyomin.

These tears were not just for the tragedies of their time, but for events that would unfold in the distant future. They cried for the suffering of their descendants, future generations of Jews, through times of great destruction. Just as their mother, Rochel, would weep for her children, so did they weep for the Jewish people throughout the ages. They put aside their personal emotions and became consumed with concern for their brethren. This selflessness is at the heart of what it means to be a Jew.

The Chashmonaim demonstrated this same spirit. When they saw how Am Yisroel was being threatened by the Yevonim, they fought back, despite the great peril to themselves. With millions of Jews at risk of assimilation, they didn’t think about their own welfare, but instead took up arms, fortified with faith that Hashem would grant them victory. They understood that when a brother is in danger, we must do whatever we can to protect him.

The lights of Chanukah, which brought joy and hope to our homes, communicated this very message for eight days. The menorah’s light energized us to face our struggles throughout the year. Yet, even as the glow of the menorah fades, we must hold on to its light during the inevitable dark days that follow.

One of the many lessons we learn from examining the actions of our forefathers in the parshiyos of Sefer Bereishis is that they viewed their experiences not as isolated events, but as part of a greater Divine plan leading to the ultimate redemption. There are challenges along the way, as well as moments of great joy. Our task is to remember that whatever course we are on was charted by Hashem for a purpose larger than ourselves and our immediate circumstances.

When Avrohom Avinu was on his way to the Akeidah, he saw Har Hamoriah in the distance (Bereishis 22:4). He envisioned the future, the eternal nature of the korbanos that would be brought there, and the glory that would emanate from that holy site. He asked his companions if they could see what he saw, and when they replied that they could not, he told them, “Stay here with the donkey, while I go up with Yitzchok to the mountain you cannot see.” Avrohom compared his companions to the donkey, because those who could not see the future were like an animal driven only by instinct, with no deeper vision of what lay ahead.

In Parshas Vayigash, we read of the emotional reunion between Yaakov and Yosef, a reconnection that came after many years of separation and suffering (46:29). Yet, instead of merely rejoicing in their reunion or catching up on lost time, Yaakov Avinu’s response, as Rashi explains, was to recite Krias Shema. Yaakov understood that the reunion of his family signified something much greater. When he saw the unity between his sons, he recognized that the formation of the shevotim was on track and that Hashem’s plan for the establishment of Am Yisroel was unfolding. He knew that although they were beginning another exile, it was all part of Hashem’s greater plan for the Jewish people.

At that moment, Yaakov was overwhelmed with the realization of Hashem’s greatness, and Krias Shema expressed his recognition of the Divine hand in the unfolding story.

By adopting the perspective of the avos, we can rise above the challenges and negativity that often surround us. We can take inspiration from Rabi Akiva, who, despite seeing the destruction of the Bais Hamikdosh, was able to smile because he understood that this was a step in the direction of the eventual redemption.

So too, in our personal lives, we face many challenges. Things don’t always go as planned. Relationships falter, children may struggle, jobs don’t materialize, and financial pressures mount. But Yosef’s message to his brothers (45:4-11) speaks to us in these moments. He told them not to despair over what they had done, selling him into slavery, because it was all part of Hashem’s plan. His suffering in Mitzrayim allowed him to prepare a refuge for them during the famine.

We should learn from Yosef’s example and let go of past grievances, understanding that everything that happens is part of a higher plan for the greater good. We should not become angry or upset when things don’t go our way. Instead, we must trust that Hashem has a purpose behind every challenge, leading us to eventual goodness for ourselves and our loved ones.

Despite all the suffering Yosef endured, his primary concern upon revealing himself to his brothers was their well-being. He cautioned them not to feel guilty for what they had done, as it had been part of Hashem’s plan. Yosef’s concern was not for himself, but for his father and his brothers.

A Jew’s primary concern should always be the welfare of his fellow Jew. We are all brothers, and our responsibility to one another is at the core of who we are as a people.

Our brethren in Israel are under attack and have been fighting wars for their survival for over a year. Young Jewish men are killed almost daily, and many more suffer life-altering injuries. The economy is not doing well, and people there are starving and lacking what we consider basics. We need to feel their pain and do what we can to help them.

The least we can do is daven for them, daven that peace be restored, and daven that they don’t have to get up in the middle of the night and run for safety to a shelter. We should daven that they can return to their homes, to their jobs, and to their schools. Daven that tourists can return and pump money into the economy and into the hands of poor families, yeshivos, and kollelim.

We need to view everyone there as our brothers and sisters, doing for them what we would do for a brother and sister, because that is what they are.

When we deal with fellow Yidden, we need to do so with kindness and grace, treating every person as a brother or sister, because they really are. This applies not only to matters involving basic manners, such as giving the right of way when we drive, but the way we talk to people and the way we write to them and about them. There is never any reason for nastiness, arrogance, or acting as if you are better, holier, or superior to the person you are addressing.

Parshas Vayigash was not given to us and transmitted through the generations to entertain us with the very moving story about a family that was torn apart, separated, divided, and then, through a confluence of random events, brought back together.

The story is often retold of the time the old Belzer Rebbe, Rav Aharon Rokeach, and the Gerrer Rebbe, the Bais Yisroel, met in Tel Aviv after being saved from the ashes of the Holocaust. They both lost most of their communities, followers, and families. Though they both had good reason to be broken, they were both determined to rebuild in the Holy Land what had been laid waste in the old country.

The urge was to speak of destruction and loss, but the Belzer Rebbe wouldn’t allow that to happen. He opened the conversation and asked the Gerrer Rebbe why, when Yosef and Binyomin finally met and the years of tragedy had separated the two children of Rochel, they cried upon each other’s shoulder. Binyomin cried over Mishkan Shiloh in Yosef’s portion, and Yosef cried over the Botei Mikdosh in the portion of Binyomin. Why did they not cry over the churban that would take place in their own portion of Eretz Yisroel?

He answered that we don’t cry over our own churban, over what we suffered. Nothing is served by mourning over what happened in our past. We pick ourselves up and begin working to put the pieces back together. But we do cry over what happened to other people. We mourn their losses and attempt to comfort them.

This is because we always seek to help our brothers. We do not mourn our own losses. We accept them as the will and act of Hashem. But when another person suffers and is in pain, we do what we can to assuage that pain.

Yosef and Binyomin were brothers. All Jews are brothers, and we should always do what we can to help one another. Sermonizing is not in place when someone is suffering. There is a time to castigate a brother, but it must be done with love and at the proper time, in the proper way. When the timing is right, we seek ways to grow and to build and plan for the future. But there is a time of eitzos – dispensing advice – and a time for dispensing help, and a brother knows when to do what.

Parshas Vayigash is meant to teach us deep lessons of bitachon, kibbud av, living in golus, geulah, unity, brotherly love, the need to care for each other, and the necessity to work as a community, each person thinking about the others and not only what is good for him. As individuals, we may have our strengths and resources, but together, we are far stronger. Acting as a community allows us to pool our collective talents, wisdom, and resources to overcome challenges that no single person could face alone. When we unite, we amplify our ability to help one another, whether it’s through emotional support, financial assistance, or shared knowledge.

When we act b’achdus, we accomplish far more, protecting what is dear to us and providing support and strength in ways that go beyond what we can achieve alone or when focused solely on ourselves. Caring about the greater good and each other is what makes us worthy heirs to the avos and shevotim. Recognizing that we are all connected as children of one father, and that the wellbeing of one affects the wellbeing of all, is a predicate for fostering good and ridding our community of evil, misguided individuals, and rectifying the problems that affect us. Whatever the problem is, people working and acting in unison is the solution.

May we merit to learn the lessons in this week’s parsha and conduct ourselves in ways that will help each other and hasten the coming of Moshiach speedily in our day.

Light Up the World

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

In the darkest days of the Holocaust, hundreds of talmidim from the Mir Yeshiva were saved through the selfless actions of Chiune Sugihara, the Japanese diplomat stationed in Kovno. As the Nazis approached, Sugihara, against the orders of his government, issued thousands of visas, allowing the yeshiva’s faculty, talmidim, and their families to escape certain death. Though their journey led them to Shanghai, China, where they faced harsh conditions, they were, nonetheless, spared from the horrors of the Holocaust. They were saddened by their saga and worried about the fate of their families, friends and townspeople.

As Chanukah approached, Rav Chatzkel Levenstein, the mashgiach of the Mir Yeshiva, took the opportunity to offer words of strength and encouragement to his fellow refugees. He spoke of the powerful lessons of Chanukah and the story of the Maccabees, drawing parallels between the historic struggle of the Jewish people and their own fight for survival in a foreign land.

Rav Levenstein began by referencing the Rambam’s account of the Yevonim’s domination over the Jewish people for fifty-two years. The Yevonim, through their control over Klal Yisroel, sought to destroy the Jewish faith, corrupting the Jews’ attachment to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. Theirs was a calculated effort to make the Jews apathetic, to strip them of their spiritual vitality, and to convince them that their identity and beliefs were irrelevant in the face of a dominant foreign power.

Yet, it was in the face of this oppression that Matisyohu Hakohein, a single individual, sparked a revolution. His courageous acts of defiance against the Yevonim became the catalyst for the Maccabean revolt, which ultimately brought freedom to the Jewish people. Rav Chatzkel emphasized that it was the inspiration of this one man, Matisyohu, that changed the course of Jewish history. The victory did not simply come from physical might, but from a deep sense of belief in Hashem and the refusal to accept the tyranny of the dictators and the majority of the people.

Matisyohu’s actions were a clear message that one person’s faith and determination could inspire an entire nation to rise up, regardless of how dire the situation appeared. Rav Chatzkel conveyed this lesson to the talmidim of the Mir Yeshiva, urging them to remember that even in the face of hardship and exile, they, too, could persevere, each one of them providing strength for the others.

Another central lesson from Rav Chatzkel’s words was the danger of complacency and apathy. The Yevonim succeeded in weakening the Jewish spirit not merely through force, but by fostering a sense of helplessness and resignation. The Jewish people were made to feel that they were powerless, that there was no hope of defeating the Yevonim, and that they should simply accept their fate. The Yevonim sought to suppress the Jewish people’s commitment to Torah and mitzvos by convincing them that resistance was futile.

Rav Chatzkel stressed that it was precisely this mindset of resignation that led to the threat of spiritual annihilation. The Maccabees, by contrast, rejected this mindset entirely. When Matisyohu rose to lead the rebellion, he taught his people to never accept oppression passively. His call to arms was a rejection of the notion that everything was lost and that the Jewish people had no future. By acting, he demonstrated the power of not allowing circumstances to dictate our faith or resolve.

For the talmidim of the Mir Yeshiva, this message was vital. In the refugee camps of Shanghai, the survivors could easily have become despondent and resigned to their situation. They had lost so much—families, homes, communities—and the future seemed uncertain. Yet, Rav Chatskel’s words reminded them that they should not become complacent in the face of hardship. Their survival was not just a matter of enduring. It was an opportunity to continue their mission, to maintain faith and to never give up.

A key element of Rav Chatzkel’s message was the importance of acting according to faith in Hashem rather than fearing the “facts on the ground” or the opinions of others. He referred to the way the Maccabees, against overwhelming odds, fought because they believed in the truth of their cause. Despite the seemingly insurmountable power of the Yevonim, Matisyohu and his sons fought not because victory seemed likely, but because they could not accept spiritual destruction.

In their time, the talmidim of the Mir Yeshiva were surrounded by a world that seemed to have abandoned them. They were far from their homes, living in difficult circumstances, and their families were scattered or lost. Yet, Rav Chatzkel urged them to remember the example of the Maccabees, never to fear the apparent strength of their enemies or the difficulties they faced, but to trust in Hashem’s power to guide them through.

Finally, Rav Chatzkel reminded the talmidim that while Hashem granted the miraculous victory to the Maccabees, it began with human initiative—isra’usa d’lisata, the spark of inspiration that led to action. The Maccabees did not wait for a miracle to happen. They acted, believing in the truth and taking the necessary steps to make their vision a reality.

For the Mir Yeshiva talmidim, this lesson was especially poignant. Their survival was a result of both external and internal miracles. Sugihara’s heroic act of issuing visas saved them physically, but their spiritual survival depended on their own actions, maintaining their faith, continuing their devotion to Torah, and inspiring each other to keep their emunah and hasmodah strong. Just as the Maccabees taught that we must act to bring about redemption, so too, Rav Chatzkel reminded them that they must be strong and not become overwhelmed by what is going on in the world.

While there were people at the time of the Yevonim who were privately moser nefesh to remain loyal to Torah and mitzvos, Matisyohu added that there is an obligation not only to worry about yourself and your family, but also to do battle against those who are working to destroy the people’s attachment to Hashem and His Torah.

Until Matisyohu began his revolution against the evil ones, the hester ponim was such that it was possible to think that Yiddishkeit would be totally destroyed. This was because nobody had the self confidence that they possessed the strength of character and purpose to take on the enemy and foster the concept that with Hashem’s help they could be beaten and Klal Yisroel could return to its exalted state.

Matisyohu showed Jews for all time the power of one good individual to inspire change. He showed the danger of complacency, the importance of acting in faith, and the belief that when we do so, Hashem will help us. We fear not the mighty, nor the powerful, nor the immoral majority. He showed that there is no such thing as nature and the concept that we have to go along with those who seek our spiritual destruction. Even one person or a few who fight lesheim Shomayim can bring us all salvation.

As Rav Chatzkel’s words echoed through the halls of the Mir Yeshiva in Shanghai, they served as a powerful reminder of the resilience and strength of the Jewish people. The talmidim and hanholah of the yeshiva had already endured unimaginable suffering, but they were encouraged and strengthened to continue on the path they began in the Mir in Europe. Like the Chashmonaim, they were reminded that no matter how dire the circumstances, they could make a difference. One person’s inspiration, a single act of courage, could change everything.

In the end, the story of the Mir Yeshiva’s survival is a testament to the lessons of Chanukah: the power of one individual to inspire others to be strong, the danger of complacency, the importance of acting in faith, and the belief that, when we have emunah and bitachon, Hashem brings miracles that can topple the many and the strong and allow the few and the determined to survive.

And it was not only the Mir Yeshiva and the giants who led it and kept the yeshiva going in exile through sheer determination, dedication to Torah and belief in Hashem. Our people were rebuilt after the awful churban by individuals who fought lonely battles and restored the spirit of broken people, creating places for them to gather and communities in which they could live.

People such as Rav Aharon Kotler, the Satmar Rebbe, the Ponovezher Rov, the Klausenberger Rebbe, the Bobover Rebbe, and so many other unsung and famous heroes who lost so much took this lesson of Chanukah to heart. Their indomitable spirit not only restored what had been lost, but created the foundation for the miraculous rejuvenation, renaissance, and resurgence of Torah life that many had thought was dead and buried.

In the time of the Chashmonaim, even after the physical conflicts were won on the battlefields and the Yevonim were vanquished, the war was not over. The Yevonim had succeeded in secularizing a majority of the people, and a new campaign was begun to spiritually revitalize the people and engender a revival of observance. The ultimate goal of the physical battles was to bring the people back to Torah and restore the kedusha and vitality of Hashem’s people.

The Hellenist Maskilim of the 1800s rewrote the story of the Chashmonaim to simply be another story of good triumphing over evil, of the strong and determined few beating the enemy’s large fighting force. They did away with the Chanukah miracles and Chazal’s teachings. They did away with the neis of the pach shemen tahor and turned the menorah lighting into a celebration of the war victory. They claimed that in the days of old, such occasions were celebrated by the kindling of numerous lights in private homes and public plazas. They wished each other “Chag Orim Sameiach - Happy Festival of Lights.”

The Maskilim who had been battling traditional Judaism for years saw secular Zionism as a vehicle with which to continue their war. The Maskilim effectively used the new movement to battle religion. Secular Zionists adopted the theme and turned Chanukah into a celebration of a military victory by physically strong, heroic Jews. They named their football teams Maccabi to celebrate Jewish athleticism and muscles in the spirit of the Maccabees who fought the Yevonim, who basically invented sports and glorified human physicality.

And to this day, they wish each other “Chag Orim Sameiach.”

Rav Yisroel Salanter was a Maacabi in the spirit of Matisyohu, as explained by Rav Chatzkel Levenstein. He also fought the Maskilim bitterly. He taught a generation how to act and how to conduct itself through the Mussar Revolution he spawned. He was one of the first in a long line of gedolim who advocated establishing Torah newspapers to combat the negative influences of those determined to besmirch Torah. He taught the young how to communicate and how to present themselves with kindness and sophistication. With gaonus in Torah and middos, he was a leader in preserving the Torah nation.

Another Maacabi in the spirit of Matisyohu was the Chazon Ish, the architect and leader of the Torah community in Eretz Yisroel following the Holocaust. He famously agreed to accept an invitation for a meeting with Israeli Prime Minister David Ben-Gurion, so two Jews at polar opposites of the spectrum met. One represented the holy mesorah of the Chashmonaim, while the other proudly dreamed of the Maskilim’s vision of the “new Jew.” The Chazon Ish brilliantly rebuffed Ben Gurion’s contentions. He made it clear, with the ferocity of Yehudah HaMaccabi, that the Olam HaTorah was untouchable and that his “army” wasn’t impressed by the military might of Ben-Gurion.

In our time, we, too, are confronted by those who outnumber us and possess greater might and strength financially, politically, and in their mastery of propaganda and self-promotion. They seek to undermine us, belittle our way of life, and humiliate us, while attempting to sway the more vulnerable among us.

The lesson of the Maccabees is not to fall prey to their smooth talk, propaganda, slick marketing and glossy presentations. The lesson of Matisyohu Hakohein is to always remain loyal to the truth and to fight for the truth, regardless of the consequences and risks to popularity and reputation. Know who you are and know what you represent, and know that Hakadosh Boruch Hu placed you here for a reason.

Do not be intimidated by the wealthy and powerful, who are often driven by ego and a thirst for control. Instead, remain steadfast in your moral integrity and honesty, allowing these values to guide your actions. In doing so, you will be blessed with true success. Though the journey may require patience and perseverance, remember the timeless wisdom of the wisest of men: ‘The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, (Koheles 9:11). Work for the betterment of Klal Yisroel and, as bleak as it may seem at times, behind the confusion there is clarity, behind the darkness there is light, and behind the determined stands Hakadosh Boruch Hu.

At the apex of the Chanukah miracles was a small crucible of pure oil, and those precious few drops of oil lit up the Bais Hamikdosh, lit up the hearts and souls of the Jewish people, and still cast a bright glow around the world wherever there are Jews who are loyal to Hashem and His Torah.

Never grow despondent, never think it’s all over, and never think that you don’t have the power and ability to overcome the odds, to beat back those who mock you and seek your destruction. Always know that when you are an ehrlicher Yid, but really an ehrliche Yid, and the truth is on your side, me’at min ha’ohr docheh harbeh min hachoshech. Even if all you have is a drop of fuel, you have the power to succeed and to win. You have the ability to light up the world with Torah and maasim tovim, helping to prepare the world for the ultimate victory with the coming of Moshiach very soon.

Flames of Faith

Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

The posuk (Bereishis 37:1) tells us, “Vayeishev Yaakov b’eretz megurei aviv b’eretz Cana’an — Yaakov lived in the land where his father had sojourned, in the land of Cana’an.” This statement essentially repeats the same information. If we know that Yaakov lived where his father lived, then it follows that he lived in Cana’an, the land promised to the Jewish people. Why does the Torah repeat itself?

Rav Meir Soloveitchik explains that the Torah is emphasizing something important: Yaakov returned to the Promised Land not only because it was the land Hashem had promised to Avrohom Avinu at the Bris Bein Habesarim, but also because it was the land where his father, Yitzchok, lived.

The avos followed the paths of their forefathers. Yitzchok lived his life according to the ways of Avrohom, and Yaakov followed the example set by Yitzchok. Even though Eretz Yisroel had not yet been fully given to them, Yitzchok lived there [as a ger], and Yaakov did as well.

We, too, are meant to follow in their footsteps. To preserve Am Yisroel, we do not introduce new mitzvos or concepts, nor do we deviate from the ways of our forefathers. We do not assume that we understand the Shulchan Aruch better than our ancestors did. We do not think that our modern intelligence grants us a clearer perspective on how to live. Instead, we observe the mitzvos as they were observed by those who came before us, following the customs and traditions passed down through the generations to us.

For example, Jews living in the Diaspora observe two days of Yom Tov because, in times of old, people who lived far from Eretz Yisroel were often unaware of when Rosh Chodesh was proclaimed. As a result, they were uncertain about the Hebrew dates and didn’t know when Yom Tov was meant to begin. Later, after the establishment of the fixed Jewish calendar, everyone knew the correct dates. Nevertheless, Chazal instituted the practice of observing two days of Yom Tov in golus to maintain the customs of our ancestors. This concept is known as “minhag avoseinu b’yodeinu” — we hold on to the traditions of our forefathers.

A similar principle can be seen in the way we perform bedikas chometz on Erev Pesach. One year, someone asked Maran Rav Elazar Menachem Man Shach whether it would be permissible to search for chometz with a flashlight instead of the traditional candle. Rav Shach responded by asking, “How did your father conduct the search?” The man replied, “With a candle.” Rav Shach said to him, “If your father used a candle, why would you want to do it with a flashlight?”

The young man explained that he had heard that a flashlight could illuminate cracks and crevices more effectively than a candle. Rav Shach, looking at him with a knowing smile, asked, “Do you really think you can see better than your father?”

The lesson here is clear: We follow in the footsteps of our forefathers. We don’t believe that we are smarter or better equipped to fulfill the mitzvos of the Torah than they were. We don’t imagine that we know more about life or the proper way to serve Hashem than they did.

After teaching us this lesson, the posuk (ibid. 37:2) states, “Aileh toldos Yaakov, Yosef ben sh’va esrei shanah…” The posuk says that it will discuss the biography of Yaakov, and then it mentions Yosef, and the entire conversation from then on continues by talking about Yosef.

Meforshim ask that since Yaakov gave birth to twelve sons and at least one daughter, why is there no mention of them here? Why is Yosef the only one mentioned?

Various answers are given, among them that Yosef was the one who modeled himself after his father and, from all the brothers, was the one who was most fastidious about following in his ways. Yaakov taught Yosef everything he had learned in the yeshiva of Eiver, and Yosef resembled his father not only in actions but also in appearance. Thus, when the Torah speaks of Yaakov, it concentrates on the story of Yosef, for just as Yaakov was the primary heir of Yitzchok, Yosef was the primary heir of Yaakov.

As we continue our study of the parsha, we see how Yosef’s devotion to his father and his ways saved him from becoming lost.

Yosef was a lonely teenager who was sold by his brothers into servitude in the most corrupt, disreputable, shameless country. If there was ever a young man who had an excuse to fall into the cesspool of a debased society, it was Yosef.

But instead of falling, he raised himself, and because of that, he is referred to for eternity as Yosef Hatzadik, the righteous one.

From where did the rejected, hated, handsome young man find the inner strength to be able to rise above his nisayon and his situation?

The Gemara (Sotah 36b) tells us that when confronted by aishes Potifar, Yosef stood at the edge of a spiritual cliff, engaged in a fierce battle with his yeitzer hora. Suddenly, he beheld the image of his father: “Be’osah sha’ah bosah deyukno shel oviv.” Yosef saw the image of his father, Yaakov. Seeing the likeness of his father propelled him to act correctly and placed him back on the tzaddik track.

Like a flash of lightning on a stormy night, it showed him the way.

Yaakov was the last av, the third and greatest of the three avos who imbued nishmos Yisroel with the strength to endure. Yosef was the foremost tzaddik of the next generation. He grasped the strengths of his forebears and made them his own, and by doing so, he was able to act as they would have, saving himself and creating a new link in the eternal chain.

Yosef was the first of the next generation who was forced into exile. Not only was he forced to leave the Promised Land and his father’s home, but he was also the first in the chain who was sold into exile — by his brothers, no less. Lonely and seemingly forgotten, Yosef was able to see past his situation and remember where he came from and what he was meant to be.

When Yosef saw the image of his father’s face, he was reminded not only of his physical resemblance to Yaakov, but also of his role as Yaakov’s primary disciple. Yosef understood that he was the one chosen to continue his father’s legacy, to carry forward the heritage of Yaakov and pass it down through generations.

Seeing the reflection of his father also brought to mind the hardships Yaakov had faced. While Yaakov’s brother had not sold him into slavery, that was only because he wanted him dead. In this, Yosef realized that his father had endured a similar fate, driven into exile by his own brother and forced to flee to the treacherous and immoral house of Lovon. Despite all the trials and suffering Yaakov had endured, he never wavered in his commitment to Hashem and the Torah. Yosef proudly remembered his father’s words: “Im Lovon garti v’taryag mitzvos shomarti v’lo lomadeti mima’asov hara’im — Even when I lived with Lovon, I kept all the mitzvos and was not influenced by his evil ways.”

Yosef’s father, Yaakov, was chased, oppressed, and isolated in a foreign land filled with impurity, yet he remained steadfast. His inner strength was rooted in the teachings of his father and grandfather, both of whom had also been exiled and exposed to moral corruption. This foundation of faith and resilience empowered Yosef to endure his own challenges. It was this deep connection to his family’s legacy that allowed him to stay true to the path they had paved for him.

As we study the parshiyos of Bereishis, the images of Avrohom, Yitzchok, and Yaakov are before us. The stories of their lives provide inspiration and direction as we navigate our lives, subsumed in a foreign culture, with people who seek our destruction as prevalent as the temptations that threaten to sink us.

The images of the avos and imahos have led the way throughout the ages, as Jews struggled to remain loyal to Torah.

It is likely that the examples of Yaakov and Yosef inspired the Chashmonaim, the heroes of the neis of Chanukah. Yovon had taken hold of Eretz Yisroel, the Bais Hamikdosh, Am Yisroel, and everything holy. The majority of the people at that time did not support the Chashmonaim as they went to war against the progressive Hellenists and fought for kedushas Yisroel and kedushas haMikdosh during a time of great spiritual darkness.

The Yevonim were the most culturally advanced nation of their time, and their army was the strongest. Too many Jews viewed themselves as weak and small compared to those who dominated over them, perceiving any attempt to overthrow them as futile.

Like Yosef Hatzaddik, the Chashmonaim refused to be influenced by the Yevonim or succumb to their entreaties and philosophical arguments. They were inspired by Yosef’s example of a Jew living in golus, surrounded by temptation, and dominated by a heathen, hedonistic culture. Just as Yosef had done, they channeled support from Yaakov Avinu as well. Empowered by his example, as well as his tefillos and zechuyos, they embarked on a daunting task.

With this, we can understand the teaching of Chazal that there is a connection between Yaakov Avinu returning for small jugs he had left behind and the miracle of the small crucible of holy oil that allowed the Chashmonaim to kindle the menorah for eight days following their military victory.

Yaakov Avinu returned for the pachim ketanim that he had forgotten as he escaped from the house of Lovon because he appreciated the value of everything that Hashem had given him. His possessions were infused with holiness, for they had been procured with money earned honestly and were used by the tzaddik whose entire life was dedicated to Hashem’s service.

In the merit of Yaakov, who remained undefiled and steadfast in his holiness, ensuring that his possessions reflected his unwavering devotion to Hashem, Hakadosh Boruch Hu rewarded his descendants. They rose up in his image, returning sanctity to Hashem’s people and to His earthly home. Following the example of Yaakov, who confronted Lovon, Eisov, and even the angel of Eisov with courage and faith, they were granted the strength to face a far more powerful enemy and emerge victorious.

Confronted by the forces of Eisov, they saw Yaakov. They summoned the strength and tefillos of Yaakov, and like Yosef, they declared war against the prevailing tumah. They lived lives of purity and Torah during a period dominated by immorality and evil.

At this time of year, as we study these parshiyos and prepare to celebrate the battles and victories of the Chashmonaim, we should be inspired to persevere in our personal and communal battles against the forces of darkness, hedonism, and physicality. From studying their stories, we should be able to place their image before us, giving us the ability to resist the temptations of the yeitzer hora and remain steadfast on the path we have followed since the days of Avrohom, Yitzchok, Yaakov, and Yosef.

As we look into the lights of the menorah, we are reminded of their message and how it came to be that we light the menorah for eight days. We recall the miracles Hashem performed for our forefathers, as we recite the brocha that states that Hashem performed miracles for them in their time, on these very days, when we commemorate their victories. The lights we see are the same lights our forefathers have seen for thousands of years, all the way back to the time of the Chashmonai miracles in the Bais Hamikdosh.

Just as Yosef saw demus deyukno, the image of his father, when we look at the menorah’s flames, we see demus deyuknom, the images of the flames in the Bais Hamikdosh and in the homes of Jews throughout the ages.

As we have discussed, at the beginning of this week’s parsha, we read, “Aileh toldos Yaakov, Yosef.” Rashi quotes the Medrash, which explains that Yaakov saw the armies of Eisov approaching and wondered how he would defeat them. The Medrash answers with the words of the novi Ovadiah (1:18), which we read last week in the haftarah: “Vehaya vais Yaakov aish, uvais Yosef lehavah, uvais Eisov lekash.” One spark will emanate from Yosef and will incinerate the approaching armies of Eisov.

When we sit in our homes and look at the tiny dancing flames, we are not only seeing the lights of the menorahs throughout history, and not only the lights of the Bais Hamikdosh, but also the light of the Ohr Haganuz, which Hashem created at the beginning of time.

We see that light, kindled by the Chashmonaim, who merited saving the Jewish people from destruction during Golus Yovon. And as we think about our current challenges—whether it’s the darkness surrounding us, concerns about our children’s chinuch and future, or the dangers arising in Eretz Yisroel—we recognize the parallels. We recall the threats we’ve seen miraculously defeated, only to face new dangers and old schemes now gathering strength.

In these moments, we think of Yaakov and Yosef, of the Chashmonaim and their flames. We remind ourselves that if we remain loyal to the values of those who came before us, we will be strengthened and endowed with the ability to persevere. In doing so, we will merit the coming of Moshiach speedily in our days.