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The Miracles We Miss

Chanukah 5779 — 2018

Rabbi Yosef Caro, considered one of the greatest rabbis from the 16th century on, asks a fascinating question regarding the Chanukah miracle:

Why is it, asks Rabbi Caro, that we celebrate eight days in honor of the miracle of the oil? According to the story, we know that all of the oil in the Temple was either destroyed or made impure and unusable; we know that when the Hasmoneans – Judah Maccabee, his family and all who had joined them to fight the Syrian-Greeks – were finally victorious and came to the Temple to light the menorah, there was no pure oil; we know that only one, small jug, still bearing the seal of the High Priest and therefore pure, was found; we know it had only enough oil for one day; we know that the Hasmoneans decided to go ahead and light the oil even for the one day. And we know that the oil lasted for eight days.

But Rabbi Caro raises an interesting point: He says that the actual miraculous part here is only seven days, since the oil in the jug was already enough for one day without needing a miracle for it. So the miracle would be only on the other seven days.

One of the simplest and best replies to R' Caro's question comes from a great 17th century rabbi, Rabbi David Halevi Segal, known as the Turei Zahav. His answer is that the miracle did indeed begin on the very first night: the oil in the one, small jug that was enough for only the one day did not use itself up completely at the end of that one day, as it ought to have done. A small amount of it remained and on this remaining amount of oil the miracle and the blessing of the continued light was constituted. Therefore the miracle did definitely begin on that very first night and so we celebrate all eight, miraculous nights of Chanukah.

R' Caro's question was not just an incidental exercise in nitpicking. It gave us an opportunity to catch an almost invisible issue of great value. Because, in comparison with the great and obvious miracle of the other seven days, the small, seemingly insignificant miracle of the first night seems mundane and irrelevant. And yet it is the very basis of the miracle for the rest of the seven days!

The Ramban, the great 13th century Rabbi Moses ben Nachman, known as Nachmanides, differentiates between two kinds of miracles: those which are obvious, self-explanatory, and those which are hidden miracles.

The obvious, super-miracles that seem to deviate from nature, are those geared to impress, particularly those of little faith, since they testify in an obvious way to God's existence. Such, for example, were the miracles and wonders in Egypt, like the rod that turns into a snake and swallows up all the other snakes that the Egyptian priests created with their rods. So also were the ten plagues. The sensation of amazement and wonder comes from the impression that these are acts which are impossible to perform, that is, things of wonder, wonder-full things.

As opposed to these, obvious, kinds of miracles, the Ramban's hidden miracles are, in fact, the majority of miracles we encounter over the generations and in everyday life. These hidden miracles can be seen or comprehended only by those who are open and willing to see the wonder in these occurrences and accept them as everyday miracles.

Judaism helps us to maintain sensitivity to everything that happens around us and not to relate to life as an accepted routine which is taken for granted. What is simpler than waking up each morning after a night's sleep? But the Modeh Ani blessing, thanking God for returning us to life, turns this simple act of waking up, which we all take for granted, into a wonder and a miracle that we appreciate anew each and every day. Think about it for a moment: when we are asleep we are in a totally vulnerable state. We are totally unaware of what goes on around us and we are in a state of complete inability to defend ourselves and avert danger. The very fact that we come through these hours of sleep safely and awaken healthy, whole and alive – this is truly a miracle deserving of thanksgiving and rejoicing each and every day anew!

Judaism sees miracles as everyday events to such an extent that three times a day we pray: "…we thank You, God, and sing your praises for Your miracles which are with us every day…which we experience at all times: evening and morning and noontime…". That is to say, that as far as the Jewish perspective is concerned, we should be aware each and every day and at all times of the miracles and wonders that surround us and are bestowed upon us, and we should appreciate them and rejoice in them.

But are we aware of the smaller, hidden miracles? Are we attentive enough to recognize them in our everyday lives, to enjoy them and rejoice in them? Let's take an example. A 10 year old boy had a reputation for being lazy in school. He barely did his homework, often failed tests or got barely passing grades.

Fifth grade began no differently than the previous years. Yet one day the boy came home, crying. His mother, thinking someone had hit him, rushed to see if he was hurt. But the boy waved a sheaf of papers at her and said: "Look! Look!" What she saw made her cry, as well, for it was a history test and the grade at the top of the page was B+!

Well, the whole family celebrated and everyone called it a miracle. It was clear that the boy himself was changed by this and continued to do well.

This was indeed a wonderful miracle, worthy of celebrating. But an even more important miracle was missed. The B+ was not the miracle. It was the outcome, the continuation of the first, smaller, hidden miracle.

A student teacher was doing a short internship in the boy's class. Among her other duties, she was to prepare and carry out a short lesson on her own. She chose to teach about fables and one of those she picked to tell was Aesop's fable The Ant and The Grasshopper. This fable tells how the ants worked hard all summer gathering food for the winter, but the grasshopper sang and played, saying how winter was still a long time away. When winter came, the ants had food and the grasshopper had none.

Somehow the boy had connected strongly to the story and was unusually touched by the fate of the grasshopper. He raised his hand – rare for him in class – and asked the student teacher if maybe the ants could give the grasshopper some food for that winter and he would learn his lesson and work hard the next summer… The wise student teacher, sensing the boy's distress, said that she hoped that's what would happen. "But we, hearing the story," she continued "also get to learn our lesson. Each one of us gets to choose for himself or herself and decide if we want to be the ant or the grasshopper in our lives".

Without saying a word to anyone, the boy made a decision. He even cut out a picture of an ant and put it on the wall in his room, to look at and remember, in case he got discouraged or things got hard… He began to listen in class and to do the work assigned. The result, of course, was that B+.

While the end-result was indeed miraculous, what got overlooked were the smaller, yet even more vital, miracles: the boy "somehow" connecting deeply to the story, his decision to change and even his struggles trying to implement the changes. These were the real miracles, the ones upon which the more obvious miracle was actually built. Yet they got lost and missed in the shadow of the B+.

How many of the smaller miracles in our lives are we missing? Are we too busy to see them? Are we impressed only by the more obvious and bigger miracles? Are we too complacent or have we become too cynical to believe that there are miracles in all our lives? Are we still capable of appreciating the simple and the small?

If the answers to these questions are not what you would like them to be, Chanukah comes along and gives us eight days for introspection, for soul-searching and for changing our lives for the better.

This, in itself, is already a great miracle that can happen here!

Happy Chanukah

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