Tonight is the 4th night of Chanukkah. Having heard two nights ago that my grandfather, David Dalke, whom we all lovingly called Zayde, passed away, I was challenged by the idea of both celebrating Chanukkah and discussing these miracles, when I felt that his passing only brought sadness to my world. In some cases, that is true: he was a beautiful soul and I loved him dearly, but he was in pain, and now I know he has found respite. Yet I also recognize that he would want me to celebrate Chanukkah in the only way he knew how: loudly, proudly, and with a drink in hand (I think I’ll skip out on that last part).
This evening, as I stand (here) on the pulpit [in Billings, MT to lead Congregation Beth Aaron] in T’fillah (prayer) and song, accompanied by my mother (who was already planning to come in for the weekend), I will channel Zayde’s passion for Judaism. He loved it, even as he slept through Rosh Hashanah or Yom Kippur services, his long legs unfolded in the isle of B’nai Jehudah, being nudged awake by Bubbe when he started to snore. Music will hopefully resonate in the sanctuary and then voices in the social hall as this building fills up with joyous people and excitement for this festival of lights.
With all that, I am reminded of a verse from this week’s parsha, Parshat Miketz. A continuation of the Joseph story, beginning with Joseph interpreting Pharaoh’s dreams (and becoming Pharaoh’s second in command) and concluding with Joseph’s testing of his brothers. He wants to see that his brothers have changed and are not the same men who tricked him in last week’s installment. Joseph accuses them of being spies, keeps Simeon as collateral and sends the brothers back to bring Benjamin to Egypt. They finally bring him, only to have Benjamin accused of stealing Joseph’s goblet of power. And that’s where the parsha leaves off for the week.
However the verse that stands out is one of Jacob’s. Jacob, a curmudgeon who loves Joseph more than his brothers and then Benjamin as his replacement when Jacob is told of Joseph’s “death”, is reticent to send his new favorite son to Egypt lest he be killed as well and not return. Knowing that he has no choice, Jacob relents and begins by telling the brothers, “If it must be so, do this,” wherein he begins to lay out the plan for how the brothers are supposed to go and brings gifts to put them at the mercy of the Egyptians (Gen 43:11). Jacob concludes his explanation with some choice words: "k’asher shakhalti shakholti” if I am to be bereaved, I shall be bereaved (Gen 43:14). He concludes by acknowledging the lack of power he has in the situation and putting the situation - ultimately - in God’s hands. He acquiesces.
This trust in God is not necessarily something I got from Zayde. He was always moving forward with the belief that you had to do your own thing and believe in yourself. That only then would you gain reward in this world and find what you are looking for. I respect that. But I also see the power in understanding that sometimes we have to turn ourselves over to the fate of the world and understand that life happens and doesn’t always make sense. Zayde taught me to enjoy the wind blowing and the changing of the tides, to fly my kite whenever I found the time and to enjoy the good parts of life (otherwise, according to him, what was the point?). Jacob is trying to enjoy life and in the end, must succumb to unforeseeable and rather difficult circumstances. He does it by acquiescing to God’s power. Just like the Maccabees.
The Maccabees won the war with the Greek’s in 167 BCE, short on man power, but strong on belief in God and themselves. As Margaret Mead, an American cultural anthropologist wrote, “Never doubt that a small group of dedicated [individuals] can change the world. In fact, it is the only thing that ever has.” They banded together and conquered the large Greek army, not succumbing to defeat, but rather agreeing to feel God’s power. In so doing, they allowed themselves to be strong and powerful together with God, and bring us what is now our festival of light. Zayde was like one of those Maccabees. He was determined to change the world, in his own way. He told you when you were wrong. He argued until you left the room or agreed with his point. Although he didn’t leave fate to God’s hands, he was like the Maccabee’s in that he never gave up on his beliefs and was difficult if not impossible to steer from his steadfast opinions. He was my grandfather, and tonight I light the Chanukkah candles for him, for the light he brought into my life and the dedication he, like the Maccabees, demonstrated.
Shabbat Shalom and Happy Chanukkah
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