What You Stand For

There was once an eight-year-old boy by the name of Leor, who lived in Akko, Israel and studied in the yeshivah of Shuvu, an organization which teaches Russian girls and boys all about Torah and Judaism. It was just around the days of Chanukah when his teacher began telling them about the story and miracle of Chanukah – how the Greeks did not allow the Jews to observe Shabbat, Rosh Chodesh and the mitzvah of brit milah. The days went on as normal, at the end of which the school had its routine Chanukah break.

Following the Chanukah break, Leor wasn’t at school. This wasn’t too alarming at first, as there were always students who would be out for a few days after a break, for a variety of reasons. Leor’s teacher didn’t think too much of it. Except when one day turned into two and two turned into three. Phoning his mother, the teacher was told the reason. “Leor doesn’t want to come back to school because of you. What you said is making him not want to come back.” The teacher was surprised. Had she said something offensive? Did she hurt Leor’s feelings? She couldn’t recall saying anything to him that was off-putting, but perhaps she just didn’t remember.

The teacher felt out of sorts herself. Thinking back to the days before Chanukah, the only thing that came to mind was Chanukah itself. She had been telling them about the Chanukah miracle and perhaps it had something to do with that. Who knows? “See if it has something to do with what I said about Chanukah,” said the teacher.

Sure enough, it was.

“Leor told me that you said in class that the Greeks were just like the Russians. The Russians did not let us observe the mitzvah of circumcision, and that’s how the Greeks were too.” When Leor came home, he mentioned what he had learned about the Greeks and brit milah and began asking all sorts of questions. He himself never had one. And adamantly he said, “I am not going back to school until I have a brit milah.” Understanding Leor and his wish for a brit milah, we arranged for a mohel to give him a brit. He returned from the hospital yesterday and he is recuperating. He should be back in school in a few days.”

This eight-year-old boy personified mesirus nefesh, giving over himself for the sake of observing G-d’s commandments. And it is this very trait which encompasses the holiday of Chanukah. The Chashmonaim had mesirat nefesh when they realized that they couldn’t stand for the Jews being unable to keep a Torah life. We might be led to think that the way the world is around us is just the way it’s going to be. If the non-Jews impose certain restrictions, what can we do about it, even if it goes against our values and principles as Jews. But the Chashmoniam were uncompromising in their values. They would not give in at all to the dictates and whims of the Greek vision and way of life. As such, the Chashmonaim valiantly fought a physical war, putting their lives on the line, in order to retain their spiritual values and principles. You know your values mean something when you are willing to lay down your life for them.

We all have values which we are willing to die for, and in small ways, areas of our life where we are willing to sacrifice for. Chanukah brings out the power of our values to the fore and elicits our mesirat nefesh. The light of Chanukah burns within our home and inside us, which propels us with a fire-like determination and strength to stay true to our Torah values and what we stand for. Leor knew it. If it’s the right thing to do, it must be done. That is our guiding compass as Torah observant Jews.

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Adapted from the TorahAnyTimes newsletter, parashat Miketz, 30 Kislev, 5782; December 4, 2021. Compiled and edited by Elan Perchik.