Our parshah, like last week's parshah, begins with two dreams. Last week we read about Yosef's dreams, and this week we read about Pharaoh's. There are many differences between them, but a striking one is frequently overlooked: Pharaoh sought to prevent his dreams from coming true, and the best brains in Egypt worked on the question of how to stop them from being completely realized. Yosef's dreams were of a different type; as understood by Ramban (Bereishit 42:9), Yosef applied a great deal of thought and effort to make them come true. This was the goal behind the strange strategy he employed when his brothers descended to Egypt.
This difference between the dreams raises an interesting question about dreams, in general: To what extent should one go, in order to realize his dreams?
Indeed, Abarbanel (41:54) opposes Ramban exactly on these grounds. His comment on Ramban's suggestion is short and sharp – it is not Yosef's duty, claims Abarbanel, to fulfill his dreams. Rather, this responsibility falls on G-d.
As on this Shabbat we conclude Hanukkah, let's turn our look to "in those days, at this time", and see if we can gain some insight.
Rav Avraham Yitzchak Kook wrote a responsum (Mishpat Kohen 164), dealing with a gripping question: How could Yehudah HaMaccabee wage war against the great empire of Antiochus? Why do we praise a suicidal act of declaring war against a superior enemy?
Rav Kook answers that the Hellenists tried to convert the Jewish people, and so it was seen as time of religious persecution (she'at hashmad) which obligates one to sacrifice his life for any of the mitzvot. Others answer that the Chashmonaim were great tzaddikim, and such righteous people are allowed to risk their life for the sake of kiddush Hashem (Kesef Mishneh, Hilchot Yesodei HaTorah 5:4).
These answers are all correct, of course. However, reading Sefer Maccabim, or the Scroll of Antiochus, presents a different picture. Matityahu didn't sit and deliberately consider how and if a revolt could be justified in Jewish law; when he saw a Hellenist Jew sacrificing the banned animal to an idol, his rage led him to kill both the Jew and the king's officer standing there. After that he fled to the desert, and from there the revolt began.
Matityahu's decision can be rationalized, but it didn't come from reason. It came from the hidden place in the soul where a small jug of pure oil is kept. Throughout our lives, we must respond flexibly to the circumstances around us; as our sages have pointed out, a talmid chacham without this ability is worse than the corpse of an animal. (Vayikra Rabbah 1:15) But it is of high importance that one also keep one place, in the depths of his soul, where reality has no effect. This space is devoted to the vision of a perfect world; it is our jug of pure oil; it is a dream.
Matityahu came to a point where the gap between this pure vision of his, and reality, became too wide. There was no way to try and meet the outside world on its own terms without contaminating his whole soul. Something had to give – either reality or the dream. At that point, where most people would give up on their purity, Matityahu and his sons acted differently. And from their little dream, a great light came into existence.
We began our article following Yosef and wondering to what extent one should go in order to realize his dreams. In truth, though, there are dreams and there are dreams. Yosef's dreams weren't just a simple prophecy, waiting to come true in one way or another. Yosef's dreams about leadership were part of the essence of his soul, they were his mission statement and life's goal. Yosef knew that he had been designated to help, guide and lead other people, even when he was as low as the pit or the Egyptian prison. And so, his life journey was also a learning journey: where and when is it right to try and fulfill your dreams, and when it is better to hold on to them silently, as Yaakov tried to teach him at the beginning of the journey.
At one and the same time, our dreams are powerful but dangerous. Without dreams we are empty and shallow, but trying to impose them on a reality that is not yet ripe is disastrous. But as both Yosef and Hanukkah can teach us, sometimes dreams can move the world.
Dvar Torah by Rabbi Baruch Winetraub, Former Rosh Kollel in Toronto (2012-2014)
Currently Rav-Mechanech at Yeshivat Har Etzion, and Rav Kehilat Mevaser Zion, Tel Mond
For comments: baruchwin@gmail.com
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