The miraculous events of our recent history will become legendary for future generations

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even years into my rabbinical career, I accepted an offer to lead a tzibbur in Chicago that included friends I had made over my years of living there. My rebbi, Rav Elya Svei ztz”l, advised me to upgrade my Shabbos wardrobe to a frock, thereby establishing emotional distance between myself and my congregants; we were no longer to be just buddies.

The Rosh Yeshivah must have detected something in my reaction that hinted at misplaced satisfaction, ga’avah, or both, and remarked, “Ihr veist vos dos iz mechayev zei. Vos iz dos mechayev eich? [You know how this obligates them. How does it obligate you?]”

To be honest, that took all the geshmak out of anticipating my new attire. But it was classic Rav Elya; he insisted that every twist and turn in life (especially the good ones) carries a mandate to look inward and honestly ask oneself how this change affects one’s avodas Hashem and one’s obligations going forward. Every Philadelphia talmid has heard this mantra over and over, both from Rav Elya and ybdlch”t Rav Shmuel Kamenetsky. Vos iz dos mechayev eich?

This past Hoshana Rabbah, I was approached after Maariv by a new acquaintance with the following question. We’d been told the hostages in Gaza were about to be released. What kind of obligations would they face once they were freed?

The first thing that came to my mind was of course that they should bentsh birchas hagomel. Secondly, I wondered aloud if, were they ever to return to visit their place of captivity, they would be able to recite the brachah of she’asah li neis bamakom hazeh. (Sifrei halachah discuss whether one can make this brachah if he survived a danger through natural means, benefited from a near miss, or was saved through military or political intervention.)

I then turned to my interlocutor and asked, “Why are you so interested in their obligations? They can ask their own sh’eilos if they please. Why aren’t you asking how it is mechayev you? You’ve no doubt been davening for them for almost two years.”

Of course I caught him off-guard, but sincere person that he is, he simply turned my question back on me. “So what does the Rav say? How is it mechayev me?”

IN response, I shared what my father-in-law, Rav Yoel Sperka shlita, then serving as a prominent rav in Detroit, told his kehillah the Shabbos after the 2013 Boston Marathon bombing.

When one is running a 26-mile marathon, does he wonder if he will take his next step? Of course not. He has already taken thousands upon thousands. We likewise take all of our steps for granted. Who would imagine that this ability could be taken away by a deranged person with evil intentions? This tragic event should obligate each and every one of us, when we make the daily morning brachah of hameichin mitzadei gaver — which acknowledges Hashem’s benevolence in allowing our next steps — to express renewed appreciation for the gift of walking.

I humbly suggested that my new friend apply that same logic to the other birchos hashachar on the following morning of Hoshana Rabbah. When we say matir assurim, we will obviously express gratitude that our brothers and sisters are out of captivity. But can we muster the kavanah for original intent of the brachah, thanking Hashem sincerely for our ability to move limbs previously bound by sleep?

When we say zokef kefufim, will we have a heightened appreciation for being able to stand erect, without being forced to bend over for days at a time, as some hostages were?

When we say pokei’ach ivrim, will we acknowledge the gift of being able to see the light of day, something our Israeli counterparts couldn’t even dream of in many instances? Or are we going to mumble and stumble our way through these brachos as we navigate traffic with the radio blaring?

These are our obligations now. Let’s focus on these, instead of the obligations of others. Vos iz dos mechayev unz, not someone else.

When Rav Shneur Kotler ztz”l was lying terminally ill in Massachusetts General Hospital on the last Purim of his life, he spoke by telephone to Beis Medrash Govoha talmidim celebrating their Purim seudah in his beloved yeshivah. The transcript of the original Yiddish, printed in his sefer Noam Siach, conveys the power and emotion of the moment. He shared precisely the idea mentioned above — that a person doesn’t appreciate the gifts Hashem grants him, listed in the birchos hashachar, until sadly they are taken away. Those brachos are mechayev to us to acknowledge Hashem’s kindness on a daily basis.

The sefer Tzeidah Laderech, which is quoted in Otzros HaTorah, cites an oft-quoted midrash brought by the Maharshal. On the pasuk “Vayivasar Yaakov levado,” just before Yaakov’s return to retrieve pachim ketanim, small jugs, the Midrash relates that Hashem said to Yaakov, “You were moser nefesh on small jugs for My sake. I promise you I will pay back your children with a small jug in the days of the Chashmonaim.”

This Midrash begs for an explanation on two counts. First, what is the correlation between Yaakov’s jugs and the small jug of the pach shemen of Chanukah fame? Secondly, why does the Midrash say Yaakov retrieved his jugs for the sake of Hashem? Wasn’t he simply going back to get what he left behind?

Perhaps we can understand it as follows. The Torah relates that when Yaakov parted ways from Lavan and went off on his own, he made booths for his cattle — l’mikneihu asah succos. The Ohr HaChaim Hakadosh seems to have been bothered that the Torah takes the trouble to tell us this. What lesson is there to be learned from Yaakov putting his animals in stables?

We may suggest that Yaakov was making a statement for all of us to hear. True, he was wealthy, as he was blessed with plenty of livestock. But his many possessions did not exempt him from appreciating that every single thing he owned was a gift from Hashem and had to be valued as such. Imagine receiving a personal gift from a great tzaddik — say, a sefer, and even autographed to boot. Would we not go to great lengths to guard it and protect it? Certainly, a gift from Hashem Himself is no less precious.

Therefore, no matter how wealthy Yaakov might be, that doesn’t excuse him from cherishing every item as a personal gift from Hashem and caring for it as best as he could. This is why the Midrash says Yaakov went back bishvili, for My sake. It was a kiddush Hashem of the highest degree and a statement to all mankind that everything a person owns, significant or not, is a gift from Hashem.

How does this correlate to the pach shemen of Chanukah? One has to wonder, what were the Chashmonaim thinking when they undertook their search for a pure jug of oil? They knew that tumah had permeated the entire Beis Hamikdash and that finding any oil at all that was fit for lighting the Menorah was close to impossible. But their trust in Hashem knew no bounds, and they began to look until they came across the one precious jug holding one day’s supply. Could it be anything but a gift from Hashem?

The descendants of Yaakov were reaping the rewards of his mesiras nefesh. If everything in the world is a gift from Above, what is there to prevent Him from supplying us with yet another gift to carry out His service? Their search was nothing more than minimal hishtadlus to uncover a miraculous find. Had they considered it anything less than a matnas Elokim, they would probably have never bothered in the first place. They needed to carry out His avodah.

Is it not then reasonable to expect that He will supply what we need? Indeed, we express every day our firm belief that every single thing we have is only because He wills it. Why should it be beyond the pale to expect Hashem to gift us yet one more thing, even if it is improbable l’fi derech hateva? Yaakov Avinu drilled it into our consciousness forever that everything we have is a gift from Hashem. And in the days of the Chashmonaim, we were the beneficiaries of that belief. Once they discovered that gift, the Chashmonaim knew exactly what they had, and it became a gift that kept on giving for seven more days.

Rav Chaim Mintz in his sefer Zekeinecha V’yomru Lach quotes Rav Moshe Feinstein that when a person wants to do something that is proper and l’Sheim Shamayim, he has the right to be boteiach in Hashem that he will succeed. Even if what he is undertaking has a minimal chance of success, provided it does not require an open miracle, he can do his hishtadlus and trust that Hashem will help him succeed, for it is considered as if Hashem is instructing him to do it.

We may add, perhaps, that this was precisely what the Chashmonaim were doing when they were looking for that pach shemen. Finding that lone jug wouldn’t be quite the open miracle of one day’s oil burning for eight days, but rather a manifestation of incredible siyata d’Shmaya that they found one, realizing all along it was a gift from Above, their legacy from Yaakov Avinu.

Let us return to our times. The miraculous events of our recent history will become legendary for future generations. We cannot observe these great events and merely continue our lives as usual. Every manifestation of Hashem’s chesed must bring us to greater heights in emunah and bitachon. This is something we can learn in particular from all those who uttered Hashem’s name in conjunction with their own personal yeshuos. As the freed hostages relate their stories, we are privileged to learn about how their experiences inspired them to deepen their relationship with Hashem. How are their stories mechayev us?

But we should not have to wait for such challenges to acquire that emunah.

I recall visiting a patient in the hospital who had recently undergone bypass surgery. After the standard greetings and pleasantries, the middle-aged gentleman looked me in the eye and began crying uncontrollably.

“When you say asher yatzar, and you get to the part of nekavim nekavim chalulim chalulim, do you think about your arteries?” he said.

Yes, we have constant opportunities to realize and express our appreciation of Hashem’s gifts. That fact that we have received so many in recent times is not simply more chesed, it is a bigger mechayev. Yaakov taught us to realize that and act upon it. Chanukah is our chance to do it again and express with greater vigor and sincerity, “she’asah nissim l’avoseinu bayamim hahem bazman hazeh.”

Rabbi Plotnik, a talmid of the yeshivos of Philadelphia and Ponevezh, has been active in rabbanus and chinuch for 25 years and currently serves as ra"m in Yeshivas Me’or HaTorah in Chicago.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1091)