The intersection of Parshat Miketz and Hanukah invites us to reflect on two different ways in which transformational impact can be effected, and the importance of understanding the nuances of each.
We see two drastically different models of power and change in these stories. In Miketz, Joseph—an Israelite foreigner in Egypt who, by happenstance, is granted an audience with the Pharaoh—manages to land himself a high-ranking job in the royal court. His power is extraordinary; he controls the Egyptian storehouses during a time of famine. He could well have chosen to be highly selective in his rationing to Pharoah’s subjects, and he could have chosen not to offer the bounty to foreigners as well. He could have made a myriad of decisions that could have shored up Egypt’s intra- or international power, created tactical advantages over neighboring nations, or simply concentrated the grain-as-wealth for himself and those within his inner circle. And yet, he makes the decision to work for the benefit of as many as possible, opening the granary to Egyptians and foreigners alike, for the overall flourishing of the region. He is an outsider to Egyptian society, but he is able to work within the existing systems and power structures to benefit a large number of people in concrete and important ways.
And yet, this method would hardly have worked for the Hasmoneans. In the 2nd century, the Judeans lived under a repressive regime. The Syrian king Antiochus IV attempted to control the population by repressing their practice of Judiasm—forbidding brit milah and Shabbat observance, for example—and defiling the Temple with sacrifices of swine. The oppression was acute, with no real place to go. Of course, some Judeans chose to comply with the king’s edicts, but they didn’t change the system so much as attempt to get by within its stifling dictates. The moment of truth came when a small bandit army rose up in resistance and, against all odds, managed to overthrew the foreign rulers, leading to a period of national self-determination known as the Hasmonean dynasty. (It’s worth noting for the record that the Hasmoneans themselves didn’t necessarily rise to power without their own atrocities—whether that reflects the perpetuation of cycles of trauma, the corruption of power, regional norms of the time, or something else, I can’t say.) Here, there was no great gig to be gotten in Antiochus IV’s court that would have made a meaningful difference in the lives of the people suffering on the ground. Sometimes we can appropriate the system. Sometimes we have to blow the system up.
There isn’t one right answer, of course. And sometimes, in order to create a radically new paradigm, we need both—those lobbying the halls of Congress and those protesting loudly outside the Capitol. It is our task, as people working to create better, safer, more just lives for all, to be attuned to the nuances of opportunity. When is this a moment to try to enter the system and push it on its own terms, according to its own rules? When is this a moment to go outside the system entirely? In what role will my talents and passions best be served? There are a myriad of paths towards justice, and in each step we take towards creating the change that needs to be, we serve God.
