The fact that Chanukah always coincides with the reading of the story of Yosef and his brothers has provided much raw material for the creative minds of our people. Perhaps we can suggest a modest addition to this wealth of interpretation.
One noteworthy aspect of the Yosef stories is the central role that dreams play. Three sets of dreams – those of Yosef himself, those of the Baker and the Wine-Steward, and finally those of Pharoah – advance the plot from stage to stage. A dream, of course, is unlike genuine prophesy. In prophesy/Nevuah a substantive message is communicated to the prophet; it has a single valid interpretation upon which the prophet and/or his audience must act. Regarding dreams, Chazal teach that their ultimate meaning depends on the interpretation that they are given. (The Gemara in Berachos relates the fabulous story of the dream interpreter Bar Hadia who gave positive interpretations to those who paid and negative interpretations to those who did not. All the interpretations came to pass!) In a sense, dreams merely provide a range of possibilities, much in the way that an opponent’s moves in a chess game create the array of possible moves for his partner.
Yosef is the first major figure in the Torah who is not a prophet; Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov all receive direct communication from Hashem. They face challenges, but not challenges which force them to make decisions. They are commanded to do difficult things and they face distressing and uncomfortable situations which tempt them to lose their faith, but the course of action they are meant to pursue is provided. Yosef, lacking prophetic communication, faces decision after decision. How is he to deal with his jealous and resentful brothers? How is he to resist the temptation of Potifar’s wife? Is his attempt to secure his release from prison by asking the Wine-Steward to intervene with Pharoah a lack of faith? Shall he take revenge against his brothers when the opportunity presents itself? The dreams suggest possibilities but provide no clarity.
The story of Chanukah occurs at a point of Jewish history where a similar transition was taking place. During the period of the First Temple, we were blessed with Neveim who spoke in the name of Hashem. (Had we listened to them much calamity could have been avoided.) There was no lack of clarity; the test of our lives was to resist the Yetzer Ha’Ra for idolatry which is described in the Talmudic legend as a “fiery lion”. In the beginning of the Second Temple period, the members of the K’nesses HaGedolah – the great assembly of the sages of Israel – prayed that this “fiery lion” be removed and Hashem acquiesced. At that point, to counterbalance the lightening of our challenge, we were given a challenge of a different sort – the loss of clarity that came with the end of prophesy. (See Meshech Chochma, Bamidbar 11:17 who elaborates on this connection.)
The advent of Hellenism, a secular ideology which provided theaters and libraries, gymnasia and academies, came at a time when the Jews were least equipped to deal with such challenges. Lacking the traditional sources of inspiration – prophetic messages – our leaders delved deeply into the Torah to draw out the relevant lessons that are well hidden beneath the surface. The Torah sages thus fulfilled the role that had been occupied by the Neveim in an earlier era.
The Aron and the Menorah both symbolize aspects of Torah. The Aron was the repository for the Luchos and the scroll of the Torah; the Menorah, whose flames convert oil into energy, symbolizes the enlightenment that is derived from the process of deep, penetrating study. The centrality of the Menorah to the Chanukah story is indicative of the major transformation in Jewish life that was taking place in this historic period.
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