Changing nature
Babbi Moshe Krieger, Yeshivas Bircas HaTorah
We light candles each of the eight days of Chanuka, in commemoration of the one-day’s supply of oil that the Chashmonaim found after they miraculously regained control of the Beis Hamikdash. The fact that this small supply of oil lit for eight days until new oil (which had not been defiled by the Greeks) could reach the Beis Hamikdash was clearly a miracle.
One could ask, though, there were other miracles in the Beis Hamikdash, some of which occurred every day (see Avos 5:4). Why is this miracle commemorated and not the others?
Additionally, in the Shulchan Aruch (Orach Chaim 682:1), the Rama rules that if one forgets the al hanissim prayer in birkas hamazon, he can say it as part of the requests at the end of birkas hamazon, after adding the words: “May the Merciful One perform miracles for us as he did in the times of Mattisyahu …”
This means that we’re asking for a miracle! How can we do that? The sages state openly (Brachos 54a) that one must not ask Hashem to change nature for him! (As we see that a husband cannot pray to Hashem that his pregnant wife give birth to a boy.)
Rav Yerucham Olshin answers that Chanuka is an exceptional miracle. The Exodus, the Splitting of the Red Sea, those of the Beis Hamikdash, etc., are miracles that Hashem had decreed from the beginning of creation (see Bereishis Rabba 8:5). The Chanuka miracles were not decreed in advance. They came about only in response to the mesirus nefesh of the Jews of that era (Bach, Orach Chaim 670:1). Rav Shlomo Kluger infers this from the text of al hanissim, which states that Hashem brought us “salvation as of this day.” Meaning, only at that time — as the Chashmonaim were risking their lives to bring back the avoda — did Hashem make miracles for them. On Chanuka we commemorate the fact that our mesirus nefesh can cause Hashem to change the forces of nature to help us.
This is why the miracle of the oil is commemorated and not other miracles that occurred in the Beis Hamikdash. This was a miracle that we had a hand in bringing about. The Chanuka miracle teaches us that we really can ask Hashem to do miracles for us, just as He did in the times of the Chashmonaim — only we must first be willing to display mesirus nefesh. If we show that we can change our nature for Him, He can change all of nature for us.
We tend to view “mesirus nefesh” in the strict sense of giving up our lives for G-d, but this does not have to be the case (see Brachos 20a). Mesirus nefesh means being willing to overcome our nature in order to serve Hashem. It means getting up for Shacharis even though we’re tired, going to a learning seder even though we get an important phone call, holding ourselves back from anger because we know it’s a sin, etc. This is something a Jew can and should pray for, particularly during Chanuka — that Hashem give us the ability to be moser nefesh for Him.
Even if we don’t see any immediate need for Hashem to make miracles for us that transcend nature, we should still strive and pray for this. As Rav Yaakov Emden said over 200 years ago, the miracles of Klal Yisrael’s being able to exist in galus are even greater than the miracles of the Exodus. If so, we must all do our part to gain Hashem’s supernatural running of the world for the good of Klal Yisrael. The way to do this is by trying to rise above our nature.
When people came to Rav Shach with problems that seemed to have no solution within the boundaries of nature, he would advise them to try to take on even more than what they were capable of naturally. Harav Chaim Kanievsky at times encourages avreichim facing difficulties to try to author sefarim. If a Jew in the working world has a problem that seems without a solution, he may advise him to undertake the financial support of a poor person or family. Trying to rise above one’s nature can arouse a commensurate response from on high, and Hashem will relate to him in a supernatural way.
Rav Shabsai Yudeleivitch once spoke with a Jew who was living in Hungary when Soviet troops took control of part of the country. He was well aware of the Soviets’ attitude toward religion, and knew that he would be unable to keep mitzvos. He looked for ways to flee from Hungary.
He eventually joined up with a group of people who were planning an escape, to be done at night. The scheduled departure fell on the fourth night of Chanuka. He felt that he could not simply forego lighting Chanuka candles, as keeping mitzvos was the very reason why he was fleeing the country. He approached the man in charge of this group and asked if he could light Chanuka candles.
“Are you out of your mind?” the leader snapped. “That’s the last thing we need — candlelight to give us away!”
After many hours they reached an encampment in the woods, and as the others lied down, exhausted, this Jew walked far to the side and lit candles, trying to conceal them with his body. Others in the group noticed this and were upset, but felt that they could not stop him, since he was willing to risk his life for this.
Suddenly, a tough-looking Soviet officer strode over to him.
“You’re lighting Chanuka candles?”
Paralyzed with fear, the Jew stood helpless, staring at the officer. The others in the group fell silent as they listened, terrified.
“You should know — it wasn’t the candles that gave your group away. I spotted you over an hour ago, but I wasn’t in a hurry, since you didn’t stand a chance of reaching the border. But when I saw the Chanuka candles…”– at this point the officer paused.
“When I saw the Chanuka candles, I realized that it’s been 25 years since I left my parents’ home to join the communist revolution. My father used to light Chanuka candles. When I saw these candles, I felt drawn to them.” The officer paused again, and took out a bottle of Vodka from his overcoat.
“Come, let’s make a lechaim, and then you can go on your way. I’ll see to it that no one stops your group at the border.”
If before, the others in the group were upset that this Jew had endangered them by lighting Chanuka candles, they now recognized that it was his mesirus nefesh that was gaining them their freedom.
May we be moser nefesh for Torah!