Several months ago, I attended the wedding of an IDF service member. As anyone who has been to such a wedding can attest, the energy in the room at a wedding like this is hard to match, with soldiers who leave the battlefield or other assignments to celebrate with their friend. As it turned out, while the wedding was taking place, there were also funerals for other soldiers who had fallen in battle the day before. A question on many people’s mind was how to balance the emotions of these two events – the tragic and the joyful – in a way that is sensitive to both.
A similar question can be asked as we approach Chanukah. In the face of tragedy, our tradition recognizes a range of responses, including grief and mourning, a spirit of repentance, and acceptance of G-d’s justice. As one might expect, each of the responses has expressions in halacha. There is a fourth type of reaction – gratitude – which most people probably understand, even if it is a difficult concept to define. Many sources in Chazal describe aspects of gratitude, and I focus here on two forms.
One form of gratitude seeks to find the good outcomes that can emerge from the tragedy itself. This perspective is reflected in the teaching of Rabbi Akiva, who famously stated, “Everything that G-d does is for the good” (Berachot 60b), and Nachum Ish Gamzu, who regularly proclaimed, “This, too, is for the good” (Taanit 21a). These declarations encourage a mindset that looks for meaning or potential benefits even in adversity. In my experience, when this perspective is invoked disingenuously, the impact of sharing this perspective can be hurtful. As such, while these statements are often quoted, they require thoughtful study to understand when and how they apply.
The story of Chanukah highlights a second form of gratitude that acknowledges that even in the midst of suffering and tragedy, there is space for thanksgiving for the blessings that remain. The battles that led to the establishment of Chanukah were protracted and bloody, claiming thousands of lives. Despite this, our Sages instituted a holiday of thanksgiving and praise to G-d for the victories that were achieved and the resulting sanctification of G-d’s Name. This decision reflects a powerful lesson: the grief associated with loss does not negate the ability or requirement to feel gratitude for other good things, just as gratitude does not erase the pain of tragedy.
We might consider how this lesson applies to the current challenges faced by the Jewish people. Both communally and individually, the present war has caused and continues to cause untold suffering. And yet, alongside this pain, many people seek – and find – reasons to be grateful, both to G-d and to other people. Perhaps counter-intuitively, the experience of gratitude is complementary to their suffering, even if it can sometimes feel misplaced or inappropriate.
While there are many Torah sources highlighting the complexities of gratitude, I want to focus on one source that is startling at first glance: “You shall not despise an Edomite, for he is your brother; you shall not reject an Egyptian, for you were a sojourner in his land” (Devarim 23:8). Rashi quotes a midrash that explains that we may not permanently reject them “even though they cast your male [infants] into the Nile. What is the reason [that you may not reject them]? Because they hosted you in a time of dire need.”
The midrash does not teach that the Israelites must be grateful for the suffering in Egypt – that might be a step too far. What it does teach us, however, is that despite the hundreds of years of suffering at the hands of the Egyptians, we can and should find sources of gratitude. In the case of the Egyptians, even though the exile evolved into many years of grueling servitude, the Jews’ time in Egypt began as a place of refuge from famine. In this case, the gratitude for that kindness of taking Yaakov and his family in outweighs the bitterness that we might feel toward the Egyptians.
Today, amid the suffering caused by the war, we can sometimes feel callous if we take our minds off those most affected. However, a lesson of Chanukah is that there remains space for gratitude, even in the face of ongoing grief. We can be grateful to G-d for the opportunity to live in our homeland and for the ability to defend ourselves. We can be grateful to our soldiers and their families for their extraordinary sacrifices. We can be grateful to our fellow citizens who tirelessly seek out and provide for those in need. We can also be grateful for all the things that we were thankful for before the war.
Many communities around Israel experience this balance on a regular basis. When soldiers return home from fighting in Gaza or Lebanon, many will recite the birkas hagomel on Shabbos morning, which is a blessing of thanksgiving for surviving a dangerous situation. In some instances, these same soldiers who are reciting the bracha of gratitude for their own survival saw fellow warriors fall or be injured in battle. As we see, halacha has space for both these emotions, even if it is difficult to apply in practice this balance between the two.
This Chanukah, as we recite the al hanisim, we are reminded that this holiday, established to give thanks and praise to Hashem, followed years of hardship and suffering for the Jewish people. We pray that we will continue to see Hashem’s miracles and protection, and that just as Hashem provided salvation for the Jewish people in those times, so may He provide that to us in ours.
