“S

o now, let Pharaoh seek out an understanding and wise man and appoint him over the land of Egypt.”

(Bereishis 41:33)

After Yosef interpreted Pharaoh’s dreams, he suggested Pharaoh hire a smart and wise manager to store food during the seven years of plenty. Why were these qualities Yosef’s criteria for the job? Wouldn’t it be more essential to have someone energetic and organized? (Rav Elya Lopian)

Statistics show that finances are the number one culprit in strained relationships. Often, it boils down to attitudes toward money as opposed to actual dollars and cents. In my humble opinion, most people fall into one of two categories: the savers and the spenders. At least my kids seem to be divided into these two demarcations.

I have those who save every penny (or agurah) — they’d rather do without than be without. Then there’s the type, like a certain son of mine, who manages to burn money as soon as it lands in his pocket. I’ve tried to teach him the value of saving for a rainy day, but he insists he has a backup plan for such times of austerity. I’m afraid he’s referring to my purse.

Any manager needs to be organized. But in this situation, wisdom was critical. [Yosef understood that] during the seven years of abundance, many people would waste food because they’d have so much. However, those years would be followed by years of famine, when even the smallest wheat kernel would be precious. Therefore, the manager needed to be someone wise who’d think about the future.

The Gemara (Tamid 32a) says, “Who is smart? One who sees the future.” Notice the phrasing — “sees.” It’s not enough that the wise person knows the future; he has to envision it and act accordingly.

This past Chanukah, as I presented each child with a gaily wrapped gift envelope containing the traditional Chanukah gelt, I added a caveat to the cash: “This money’s yours to buy what you’d like, within reason and with our permission. However, whoever manages to hold on to the money for a month will get double this amount.”

I watched their eyes as I spoke. Saver Son’s eyes gleamed as he rapidly calculated his profits. Small Son didn’t understand the whole concept, so his older brother patiently tried to impress upon him the riches awaiting should he remain impervious to impulsivity.

But Spender Son was frustrated. “Why can’t I buy something now?”

“The money’s yours. You can decide.”

“But that’s not fair! You know what I’m going to choose. That’s not bechirah. Besides, the money’s supposed to make us happy on Chanukah, not in a month!”

This son would make a great lawyer. He rarely misses a point.

“The best gift I can think of for Chanukah is the gift of teaching you the value of saving. It’s important in all areas of your life.”

Suffice it to say, the debate did not end with that declaration.

This same concept applies to Olam Haba and Olam Hazeh. Our years in Olam Hazeh are years of plenty, which give us the opportunity to amass many mitzvos. Comparatively, Olam Haba will be a “famine,” offering no opportunities to accrue mitzvah merits.

The Vilna Gaon cried on his deathbed as he held his tzitzis. “It’s so hard to leave this world of mitzvos,” he said. “Here, one can reach spiritual heights with something as cheap as strings. I won’t find this in Olam Haba.”

(Excerpted from Family First, Issue 673)