Chanukah Same'ach,
Rav Ari Shvat
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Israeli Professor Ada Yonath of the Weizmann Institute in Rechovot recently received the Nobel Prize in Chemistry in Stockholm. She has become the 176th Jew (comprising 22% of Nobel Prize winners throughout history) and the ninth Israeli to win the Nobel Prize. But is there any reason for us to get excited about this? Rav Yonah Goodman, Director of Religious Education, Orot College, offers an answer.
Recently, Israelis learned that this year’s Nobel Prize in Chemistry is to be awarded to an Israeli scientist, Professor Ada Yonath of the Weizmann Institute. The media devoted several days to the story, but why should we care? Does Yonath’s prize have any implication for the rest of us?
As it so happened, I was talking about the news with several secular teachers. They all insisted that they were very excited and that they planned on discussing the prize in class. One even declared, “The nations of the world have given us a tremendous honor,” and the students must hear about it.
However, when I asked an educator in a religious school if he was going to bring up the subject in his classroom, he seemed surprised at the question. He replied, “What? We need the non-Jews’ honor?! They should be the ones to determine if we’re worthy or not? After all, our honor is dependent on our spiritual stature and not on commissions comprised of various professors. Maybe you missed it, but on Simchat Torah, we danced with a Sefer Torah, not a chemistry book!”
Although I doubt that most religious teachers would agree with his statement, there is no question that the topic was covered with much more enthusiasm in the secular system (including its media) than in the religious sector, which mainly reacted with indifference to the story.
Indeed, I frequently wonder if the secular public’s enthusiasm for a given topic is sufficient cause for part of the religious public to condemn it. Nevertheless, I believe that there are many reasons why Professor Yonath’s achievement matters:
1. Is chemistry – and science, in general – truly unimportant? How can we successfully run a country if we do not have people who excel in every field? Should we resort to importing non-Jewish doctors, engineers, CEO’s, and officers?
2. HaKadosh Baruch Hu ordered us “to perfect the universe through the sovereignty of the Almighty” (from the Aleinu prayer) – and not only on the spiritual plane. Are we not obligated to contribute to the human effort to heal the sick (an endeavor which was advanced as a result of Yonath’s discoveries)? When Hashem commands us “and subdue it” (Breishit 1:28), we are not meant to wage war. Rather, our task is to overcome challenges and dangers – using a wide range of tools, including scientific ones.
3. Am Yisrael’s mission is to aspire for spiritual excellence and to spread Hashem’s Name throughout the world. We can only accomplish this goal if we are part of the world. Moreover, we must show that our spiritual ascendency goes hand in hand with the fact that we are a healthy nation which includes many different and assorted professionals who contribute to the country and the world. (See Orot 104.) Has our “Diaspora mindset” caused us to become estranged from the wonderful world which HaKadosh Baruch Hu created? (And we have not even mentioned our privilege and responsibility to recognize the wonders of Creation and use them to strengthen our faith. See Rambam – Hilchot Yesodei HaTorah 2:2.)
4. As an interim conclusion, we can say that this award presents us with an opportunity to debate our fundamental approach to secular studies. Are they a manifestation of a weakness or a primary objective? Note that we are not addressing other important questions, such as at what age and to what extent should secular subjects be studied (see Rav Kook’s Iggeret 170); in which framework should they be taught; and so on. We are only focusing here on the importance of clarifying the national-religious public’s attitude towards secular studies.
Another issue is our position on the aforementioned educator’s statement, “What? We need the non-Jews’ honor?!” Obviously, we must find favor in HaKadosh Baruch Hu’s eyes and do His Will wholeheartedly. This is our mission. Yet, HaKadosh Baruch Hu was the One who instructed us to be an ohr lagoyim (a light among the nations), and this light will only increase if we not only excel in our spiritual world but in every field of endeavor. Furthermore, our lifestyle can serve as evidence that these fields need not contradict one another and that they can even be combined. Hence, if the nations of the world recognize our abilities and honor our achievements, this is certainly a partial fulfillment of our duty.
Finally, we should note that Professor Yonath’s life story raises additional issues, which are not necessarily connected to chemistry or secular studies. In a number of interviews, Professor Yonath was asked about her childhood. And as it turns out – surprise, surprise – her parents never enrolled her in classes for gifted children, and she never attended science courses at the nearest university.
In fact, her parents could barely feed her. She grew up in a poor home. Her father died when she was only eleven, and young Yonath was forced to find a job. Yet, according to her, these difficult conditions were what taught her about exertion, perseverance, responsibility, and confronting challenges. These traits enabled her to dedicate decades of her life to her research, even though she faced numerous difficulties and setbacks (including the scorn and contempt of those who doubted her ability to succeed on her chosen path). Without her diligence and determination, she would not have achieved results which will likely benefit the health of millions of people worldwide.
Is there really nothing we can learn from this story? After all, we frequently deal with pedagogical problems in an overly specific manner. For instance, when a child gets discouraged and does not solve a math problem, he is told to keep trying. When a child claims that he cannot clean his room, his mother insists that he is indeed capable of completing the task. Yet, while we handle specific problems, Professor Yonath’s story reminds us that perseverance and determination are important educational goals. Without these traits, we will produce neither scientists nor Torah scholars.
Sandwiched between two short passages relating to specific halachot of lighting ((1) the height and (3) placement of the Chanukah lamp), the Gemara includes a seemingly unrelated Midrash. Why did Chazal record the familiar Midrash about the well into which the brothers threw Yosef in between two halachot about Chanukah? Also, can we connect this Midrash to the rules about where to place the Chanukah lamp?אמר רב כהנא, דרש רב נתן בר מניומי משמיה דרבי תנחום נר של חנוכה שהניחה למעלה מעשרים אמה - פסולה, כסוכה וכמבוי. ואמר רב כהנא, דרש רב נתן בר מניומי משמיה דרב תנחום: מאי דכתיב +בראשית לז+ והבור רק אין בו מים. ממשמע שנאמר והבור רק איני יודע שאין בו מים? אלא מה תלמוד לומר אין בו מים - מים אין בו, אבל נחשים ועקרבים יש בו. אמר רבה: נר חנוכה מצוה להניחה בטפח הסמוכה לפתח. והיכא מנח ליה? רב אחא בריה דרבא אמר: מימין, רב שמואל מדפתי אמר: משמאל. והילכתא - משמאל, כדי שתהא נר חנוכה משמאל ומזוזה מימין.1. Said Rav Kahana: Rav Natan bar Minyomi taught in the name of Rabbi Tanchum: A Chanukah lamp placed above the height of twenty amot is invalid. 2. And said Rav Kahana: Rav Natan bar Minyomi taught in the name of Rabbi Tanchum: What is the meaning of the verse: "And the well was empty, it contained no water"? Since it says "the well was empty" did I not know that it contained no water? Rather, what does "it contained no water" teach? [The well] had no water, but it contained snakes and scorpions. 3. Said Rabbah, it is a mitzvah to place the Chanukah lamp in the tefach adjacent to the doorway. And where should he place it? Rav Acha the son of Ravva said: to the right. Rav Shmuel from Difti said: to the left. And the halachah is to the left, so that the Chanukah lamp is on the left, and the mezuzah on the right.
Yosef's brothers threw him into two "pits". They first cast him into the actual water-well, empty as it was. But then, by selling him into slavery headed towards Egypt, they cast him into a far larger well: the empty pit of Egypt. Yet, this pit was devoid not of water, but of the Torah and spirituality that Yosef learned from his father at home. The Midrash notes a critical message about the absence of Torah. Lack of Torah is not benign. Rather, that lack of Torah and spirituality itself presented a danger to Yosef. The absence of Torah is not a vacuum, open to both positive and negative opportunities. Rather, the very lack of Torah in the well necessitates the fact that "snakes and scorpions" dwelled in that well instead. A place without Torah is never innocuous. The lack of Torah spells danger for Yosef, and for us, his descendants, as the void is filled not by the positives of Hellenism: the philosophy, science and progress, but by its dangers: hedonism, materialism and self-gratification.והבור רק אין בו מים [אין בו דברי תורה]. ואין מים אלא תורה, שנאמר הוי כל צמא לכו למים (ישעי' נה א), מלמד שמרוב הצרה שכח תלמודו"And the well was empty, it contained no water" – [it contained no words of Torah]. For "water" can only refer to Torah, as it is written, "Let all who thirst go to the water." (Isaiah 55:1). This teaches us that out of great anguish [Yosef] forgot his [Torah] studies.
After everything Moshe had done for God and the Jewish people; after all his hard work and dedication; after giving up his nice life in Midyan to save the Jewish nation, separating from his wife, suffering through the forty years in the desert - after everything, all he wants is one thing. הגיע שעה שאתבע צרכי - "the time has come for me to claim my needs." For all that he had done: rescuing a nation, transmitting the Torah to them, remaking world history single-handedly; none of that was enough. He wanted his legacy to be his children. And that he could not have.כיון ששמע משה שאמר לו המקום תן נחלת צלפחד לבנותיו אמר הגיע שעה שאתבע צרכי שיירשו בני את גדולתי. אמר לו הקב"ה לא כך עלתה במחשבה לפני, כדאי הוא יהושע ליטול שכר שמושו שלא מש מתוך האהלWhen Moshe heard God's instructions regarding Tzlafchad's inheritance that went to his daughters he said, "The time has arrived for me to make my own request - that my sons should inherit my greatness. Said God, "That did not enter into consideration before Me. Yehoshua is worthy to receive the reward for his service, for he did not stray from within your tent."
"He's eighty eight years old now, so his legacy is understandably on his mind. And even though he did famous campaigns: for all sorts of good causes: gun control, nuclear proliferation, Robert Kennedy's senatorial and presidential campaign, my father's not really satisfied with his work."Said Julian:
Advertising is built on puffery, and on deception, and I don't think that anyone can go proudly into the next world with a career built on deception, no matter how well they do."On one hand, it's impressive to see a person capable of looking back at his life's work with honesty and candor. But from another perspective, all I can think is: How sad. How many people will look back at a life of work spent sitting at a desk in front of a computer at an office, knowing that they helped corporations grow and prosper, or computers talk to one another, but spent less time on our true legacies - the values and principles they passed to their children; the energy they spent on their people, or their relationship with God?
They don't complain about the issue at hand – their desire to enter the Land. Moreover, they don't actually tell the truth: there is water, and they're not dying in the desert. In short, they're simply kvetching. Hashem punishes them swiftly and severely: serpents emerge in the desert and begin fatally biting the people. They immediately repent and beg Moshe to pray for the removal of the snakes and their salvation, which he does. Hashem, instead of immediately eliminating the snakes, instructs Moshe to construct a serpent and hang it on a pole, וְהָיָה, כָּל-הַנָּשׁוּךְ וְרָאָה אֹתוֹ, וָחָי, "Whoever is bitten, when he sees [the serpent] will live".לָמָה הֶעֱלִיתֻנוּ מִמִּצְרַיִם, לָמוּת בַּמִּדְבָּר: כִּי אֵין לֶחֶם, וְאֵין מַיִם, וְנַפְשֵׁנוּ קָצָה, בַּלֶּחֶם הַקְּלֹקֵלWhy have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness? There is no bread, and there is no water; and our soul hates this light bread.
Chazal derive an important and well-known principle from this story (in Gemara Rosh Hashanah 29a):שלא היה ממהר נשוך הנחש להתרפאות אלא אם כן מביט בו בכוונהIt would not heal a bitten person quickly unless he intentionally looked at it.
Does the serpent kill or give life? Rather, when Israel looked towards the heavens and subjugated their hearts to their Father in Heaven they would be saved, and if not they would wither.From Rashi we can derive three levels of activity and salvation among the people: Someone who was bitten but for some reason never saw the serpent tragically died. A snakebite victim who happened to see the copper snake would heal, but slowly. Finally, the person who stared intently at the serpent enjoyed a speedy recovery. All of this makes me wonder: If Hashem had already forgiven them and if the matter truly hinged on an individual's personal level of Teshuvah, why create the copper snake in the first place? Why should the speed of someone's recovery depend on whether he saw the snake peripherally or stared at in intentionally? What difference does that make?
These verses have taken on such significance that the Israeli Chief Rabbinate instituted that we read the first as part of the davening on the evening of Yom Ha'atzmaut.וְכִי-תָבֹאוּ מִלְחָמָה בְּאַרְצְכֶם, עַל-הַצַּר הַצֹּרֵר אֶתְכֶם--וַהֲרֵעֹתֶם, בַּחֲצֹצְרֹת; וְנִזְכַּרְתֶּם, לִפְנֵי ה' אֱלֹקֵיכֶם, וְנוֹשַׁעְתֶּם, מֵאֹיְבֵיכֶם. וּבְיוֹם שִׂמְחַתְכֶם וּבְמוֹעֲדֵיכֶם, וּבְרָאשֵׁי חָדְשֵׁיכֶם--וּתְקַעְתֶּם בַּחֲצֹצְרֹת עַל עֹלֹתֵיכֶם, וְעַל זִבְחֵי שַׁלְמֵיכֶם; וְהָיוּ לָכֶם לְזִכָּרוֹן לִפְנֵי אֱלֹקיכֶם, אֲנִי ה' אֱלֹקיכֶם.And when you go to war in your land against the adversary that oppresses you, then you shall sound an alarm with the trumpets; and ye shall be remembered before the Hashem your God, and you shall be saved from your enemies. Also in the day of your gladness, and in your appointed seasons, and in your new moons, you shall blow with the trumpets over your burnt-offerings, and over the sacrifices of your peace-offerings; and they shall be to you for a memorial before your God: I am the Hashem your God.' (Bamidbar 10:9-10)
וַיָּמָת נָדָב וַאֲבִיהוּא לִפְנֵי ה' בְּהַקְרִבָם אֵשׁ זָרָה לִפְנֵי ה' בְּמִדְבַּר סִינַי וּבָנִים לֹא-הָיוּ לָהֶם:This raises a very simple question: we already know what happened. We know why and how Aharon's sons died. Why does the Torah need to mention this painful episode yet again? The Midrash explains that through the Torah's description we learn some new information.
Nadav and Avihu died before Hashem when they brought a strange fire before Hashem in the Sinai desert, and they had no children. (Bamidbar 3:4)
וכי במדבר סיני מתו ? אלא מלמד שמהר סיני נטלו אפופסין שלהם למיתה. הה"ד (שמות כד) ואל אצילי בני ישראל לא שלח ידו.According to this Midrash, Datan and Aviram died not because of the strange fire that they offered in the desert. The fire was simply the last straw. They had clearly engaged in some type of inappropriate behavior at Mount Sinai that put them in an extremely precarious position. When the brought the funny fire, Hashem decided that He had had enough, and their punishment ensued.
Did they die in the Sinai desert? Rather, this teaches us that that from Mount Sinai they were already designated for death, as we read, "And upon the nobles of the Children of Israel He did not extend His hand." (Shemot 24)
וּשְׁמַרְתֶּם, מִצְוֹתַי, וַעֲשִׂיתֶם, אֹתָם: אֲנִי, ה'. וְלֹא תְחַלְּלוּ, אֶת-שֵׁם קָדְשִׁי, וְנִקְדַּשְׁתִּי, בְּתוֹךְ בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל: אֲנִי ה' מְקַדִּשְׁכֶם.And yet, when we look at Rashi, he again interprets these verses in a rather striking manner. What does it mean that we must sanctify Hashem's name? Says Rashi, "Give yourself over [to be killed] and sanctify my name." Here Hashem tells us that we must be willing to make the ultimate sacrifice in order to protect and defend His sanctity.
And you shall guard my commandments and do them, I am Hashem. And you shall not defile My holy name, and I will be sanctified in the midst of the Children of Israel, I am Hashem who sanctifies you.
The word ונתתי doesn't really mean "and I put." It means "and I give," which leads us to wonder, what type of gift is tzara'at on one's home? I can think of many things I'd rather have instead of having to knock down parts of my home. Why then does the Torah use the verb לתת – "to give" when describing tzara'at of the home?כי תבאו אל ארץ כנען אשר אני נותן לכם אחזה, ונתתי נגע צרעת בבית ארץ אחזתכםWhen you come into the land of Canaan, which I give to you for a possession, and I put the plague of leprosy in a house of the land of your possession.