This Shabbat we study the Parshah Miketz, meaning “At the end” (Genesis 41:1). Joseph’s imprisonment finally ends when he correctly interprets the Pharoah’s dream and, as a result of Joseph’s actions, Egypt is spared a terrible famine. Pharoah appoints Joseph governor of Egypt; Joseph marries Asenath, daughter of Potaphar, and they have two sons Manasseh and Ephraim. This Parshah also begins the story of Joseph’s reunification with his brothers. The brothers – who come to Egypt hoping to obtain some grain – fail to recognize Egypt’s governor as Joseph. When the brothers set out for home, they are pursued, searched, and arrested. Joseph offers to set them free and retain only Benjamin as his slave.

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Chanukah began on Wednesday evening, December 25, 2024 and continues through Thursday, January 2, 2025.

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Noting that one should spend time in close proximity to the Chanukah lights, the Previous Rebbe would say, “We must listen carefully to what the candles are saying.” Here is what the flickering flames tell us:

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Never be afraid to stand up for what’s right. Judah Maccabee and his band faced daunting odds, but that didn’t stop them. With a prayer on their lips and faith in their heart, they entered the battle of their lives—and won. We can do the same.

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Always increase in matters of goodness and Torah observance. Sure, a single flame was good enough for yesterday, but today needs to be even better.

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A little light goes a long way. The Chanukah candles are lit when dusk is falling. Perched in the doorway, they serve as a beacon for the darkening streets. No matter how dark it is outside, a candle of G-dly goodness can transform the darkness into light.

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Take it to the streets. It’s not enough to be a Jew at heart, or even at home. Chanukah teaches us to shine outwards into our surroundings with the G-dly glow of mitzvahs.

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Don’t be ashamed to perform mitzvahs, even if you will feel different. Rather, be like a menorah, proudly proclaiming its radiant uniqueness for all to see.

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Chabad.org

Think of each person you meet as a candle that you must ignite with the light you hold. How will you know that you have succeeded? When he sets others alight with his own flame.

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That is why we must enlist every soul we light. Not only because we need a whole army of lamplighters to light up the world, but because no person is meant to only receive and not give.

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Rabbi Tzvi Freeman

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The Messianic Era will be one of tremendous prosperity—"delicacies will be commonplace like dust." That will leave humankind with ample free time—and all the nations of the world will be preoccupied with one pursuit: the study of G-d and the Torah. Moshiach will reveal profound hitherto unknown dimensions of the Torah. The Midrash goes as far as to say that "the Torah which we study in this world is naught in comparison to the Torah of Moshiach."

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Furthermore, while our present-day knowledge of G-d is limited to intellectual perception when Moshiach will teach about G-d, we will actually "see" what we are studying. For more about the Torah of the Messianic Era—its superior nature as well as the radically different way we will grasp the knowledge, visit Chabad.org.

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When it comes to jobs that present serious occupational hazards, publishing might seem like a low-ranking industry on the danger scale. However, when I worked as an editor of children’s history books, I found there was one professional hazard that occasionally made my work unbearable: utterly depressing subject matter. Wars are fought, and then they are taught. The most gruesome details are left out, but the main thrust of historical conflicts—the patterns of violence that are continually repeated, the senseless killing of innocents, mankind’s capacity for evil—all come across, no matter how delicately you document the events.

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I remember one particularly harsh week: on Monday I was handed an anthology on World War II, Tuesday I was given a collection of essays on September 11, and on Wednesday the subject was Vietnam. I don’t remember Thursday, but chances are good I spent the day slouched over in my chair, chin resting on a stack of papers, staring at my blank computer screen and wondering if depression might qualify me for worker’s comp. 

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I knew I had to find some answer to all of these questions circulating in my head, or at least had to find a new job. But it all seemed so hopeless. The old question of “Why do bad things happen to good people?” seemed almost quaint in comparison to some of the new ones I had darting around my brain: Why do good people so often stand by and watch when bad things happen to good people? Why do we keep saying “Never Again” to genocide, when one humanitarian disaster after another keeps proving us wrong? I don’t have all the answers to these questions, but I think I’ve finally found some meaning.

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I was discussing the story of Chanukah with my husband. We were arguing about what the true miracle of Chanukah was. The traditional line is that we aren’t really celebrating the military victory of the Maccabees, because their success in battle was short-lived. Rather, we are reveling in the discovery of the flask of oil, along with its astounding eight-day burning power, because that miracle has timeless spiritual significance. But my husband disagreed. Finding one pure flask of oil in the midst of an impure Temple just seemed like kind of a small thing to base an entire holiday around. We argued back and forth, when finally he said: “You know what? I think the miracle isn’t that they found the flask of oil. It’s that they even searched for it to begin with.”

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That is the real miracle of Chanukah: that the Jews still scoured the Temple for something sacred, despite the overwhelming odds against finding anything untouched by the Greeks’ defilement. The wonder of it all is not so much that the Jews found it, but that they had faith that there was anything, any small amount of goodness, left to be found.

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And that is the miracle of our generation, too. We live in a seemingly incomprehensible world. History and current events are teeming with countless examples of mankind’s cruelty. But instead of growing numb to the suffering, we persist in asking “Why?!” We demand answers. We search for some kind of meaning in what could easily be written off as a random series of events with no logical conclusion or design. Above all, we believe that there’s something out there, some answer that will grant us peace of mind during these harsh times. And we will keep searching for that solace, until we find our little flask of oil with which to illuminate the darkness.

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From an article by Tova Bernbaum

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