Ma’aseh Avos: Let us all learn from our history
As we approach Chanukah, we again encounter the holiday’s familiar relationship with the Torah portions of Vayeshev and Miketz. It is interesting that they always coincide, but it is no coincidence. Many have noted this before, but in these trying times since Oct. 7, it bears repeating.
Alongside the continued deployment of troops, the loss of life and injury, the displacement of families and livelihoods, ongoing terror attacks, and the heart‑wrenching suicides of soldiers struggling with post‑traumatic wounds, we also face a deep political and religious divide. It has become clear to many that the major cause of this catastrophe — arguably the greatest to befall Israel and the Jewish people since the State’s founding — is our persistent disunity, our sinat achim.
The same theme appears in these Torah portions — brother against brother. The Yosef narrative and the Chanukah story share four striking parallels:
1. Sinat achim (internal conflict).
2. An overwhelming sense of tragedy.
3. Miraculous events that unfold through seemingly natural means.
4. Deliverance, success and redemption.
• • •
Yosef’s brothers, angered by his dibah (slander of them) and apparent haughtiness expressed in his expectation that he would rule over them, sought to kill him before ultimately selling him into slavery. They deceived their father about the whole affairs for 22 years.
In the Chanukah era, the Jewish people faced the Hellenization of their society. Shabbat, circumcision and Torah study were outlawed. Pagan sacrifices were forced upon the Temple. When Mattityahu cried, “Mi la’Hashem elai (whoever is with Hashem, come to me),” the first person he slew was not a Greek but a Hellenized Jew. Chanukah was a civil war between Jews before it became a revolt against Seleucid-Greek tyranny.
In Yosef’s story, tragedy afflicts everyone. Yosef is nearly murdered, sold, and ultimately imprisoned on false charges. Yehuda loses stature, leaves home and marries outside the family. The brothers suffer guilt and blame each other. Yaakov loses his beloved son and watches his family fracture. A famine ravages the land.
The Chanukah story is similarly devastating. Thousands abandoned Judaism, willingly or under pressure. Cruelty and violence spread. Maccabees I — not part of the Jewish canon but accepted by scholars and religious authorities as a reliable historical text — records the horrors Jews suffered even before the war began.
Yet, in both eras, redemption emerges naturally through what can only be called the miraculous. Yosef is pulled from prison because a minister suddenly remembers him. He attributes his interpretive power to Hashem and becomes Egypt’s leader — second only to Pharaoh himself — and saves nations from famine.
The Maccabim, steadfast in faith and unity, endured loss and defeat but never wavered. They overcame the greatest empire of their time and miraculously restored Jewish sovereignty.
Brothers (achim always), filled with fair in HaKodosh Baruch Hu, overcome incomprehensive odds to miraculously send the Greek troops packing. I say miraculously, because that’s what they appear to be. Yet an impartial observer could argue these are all events that don’t mention G-d intervention and could be explained as natural by those so inclined.
• • •
Both stories culminate in heartfelt reunification and renewal. Yosef reveals himself; the brothers weep, embrace and forgive. Yaakov’s descent to Egypt completes the family’s healing. The Maccabim march into Jerusalem, restore the mizbei’ach and discover a cruse of pure oil — a symbol of spiritual resilience. They reestablish an independent Jewish state, and the Temple stands for more than two centuries.
These parallels exist for a reason. Our history teaches that unity makes us indestructible. Hamas, by its own admission, perceived our internal strife as weakness. Though we came together after Oct. 7, the threat of internal hatred remains.
History also teaches that tragedy has purpose, even when hidden from us. We recite on every festival, mipnei chata’einu galinu mei’artzeinu (because of our sins, we were exiled from our Land). Hashem asks us repeatedly throughout Tanach to look inward.
Finally, we are instructed that despite our failings, Hashem forgives. He keeps His covenant even when we falter. When catastrophe seems insurmountable, redemption often arrives in ways that appear “natural.”
Except for the miracles of the Exodus, Hashem’s intervention is rarely open, yet we endure while our enemies fade. Nothing happens without His will, least of all the fate of His people.
Finally, history teaches that once salvation comes, we celebrate it — and then too often forget its lessons. The cycle repeats, again and again, like a terribly unfunny version of Groundhog Day. We seem to suffer from the lather, rinse, repeat shampoo theory of history.
This time, let’s set it right, and learn from our Avos what to do and what not to do, to love one another and know that all comes from Hashem. As Hillel said, the rest is commentary.
Shabbat Shalom.
Write: Columnist@TheJewishStar.com
