Chanukah may be over, but its radiance is still with us. The latkes may have been consumed, the sufganiyot have been digested. But what have we learned and gained other than a few pounds?
We know that the ancient Greeks, against whom the Chashmonaim were moser nefesh, had specific philosophies, which they tried to inject into our nation. But without studying their philosophy itself, which is both forbidden and abhorrent to us, how will we know what to avoid? The Shabbos after Chanukah is an opportune time to focus upon one of their evil teachings, which, in the spirit of Chanukah, can shed light on all of them.
Since our gedolim have given us guidance on the dangers of these theories, we can even avoid the texts themselves and learn from our sages exactly what is right and wrong. We all know that the Greeks boasted three major figures in the history of philosophy. They are Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle. The Rambam (Igros Uteshuvos, Yerushalayim, page 11) wrote to his student, Rav Chasdai Halevi, that “the early philosophers who surrounded Plato rejected the Creator, attempting to bring proofs that the universe always existed and the world is chaotic and uncontrolled.”
These are heresies with which we are all familiar. However, there are other teachings that are much more subtle and therefore even more dangerous. One of them may be found in Plato’s Republic, where he strongly recommends that children should be removed from their parents early in their childhood and inculcated with the values of the State. He writes that “the concept of the individual is eradicated and children are taught the value of collectivity, community, and being one with the State.” In the Republic (460c), “parents are prohibited from raising their own children and even residing in the same vicinity as their children… Parents should avoid recognizing their own children…” This was, of course, enacted in countries under Marxism and Communism.
Sadly, in the early State of Israel, this philosophy was adopted and infected the anti-religious kibbutzim, where children were separated from their parents early on. I was privileged to be present once when Rav Elazar Menachem Man Shach was speaking to a group of young adults who had grown up this way. The rosh yeshiva shed bitter tears over them, explaining to them our concept of mesorah and the unbroken chain of the generations.
Interestingly, the political left has also enacted many laws removing the rights of parents over their children. They often have no recourse in removing offensive books, language, and teachings from public schools, which are run by school boards that are often at odds with the values of the parent body. The conflict between parents and the leftist liberal agendas has often come to verbal and even physical violence. This is a residue of the philosophies of the Yevonim and their modern-day liberal descendants.
Rav Dovid Cohen, rov of Cong. Gvul Yaavetz (Sefer Maseh Avos Siman Labonim 7:367), points to a different failing in this system. He demonstrates from several sources (e.g., Brachos 33b) that the Greeks believed only in the rule of law, but we believe also in the trait of rachmonus, compassion and pity. He references mitzvos such as shiluach hakein (sending away the mother bird before taking the young) and oso ve’es beno (not slaughtering an animal and its offspring the same day), which the Ramban teaches are related to ingraining in us the middah of rachmonus. He adds that the 13 incursions that the Greeks made into part of the Bais Hamikdosh correspond to the 13 middos of rachamim of Hashem, which the Yevonim rejected.
I would like to add another level of major flaw in this system, when connected to Klal Yisroel. First of all, obviously, the mitzvah of kibbud av v’eim is completely destroyed. The ones who Plato believes will become the leaders (in his term, guardians) of the future rob them of the mutual love, caring, and middos of the parents. This was tragically destroyed in those early kibbutzim and in the Yemenite children who were stolen from their parents.
My rebbi, Rav Yitzchok Hutner zt”l (maamar published at the end of Pachad Yitzchok on Shavuos in Yiddish) railed against the Haskalah era interpretation of how Jewish schools began. The Gemara (Bava Basra 21a) teaches that Yeshoshua ben Gamla “invented” school and compulsory education, which the secular Jewish historians interpreted as a giant step for the Jewish nation. My rebbi, however, explained that school was but a poor substitute for what the Torah originally designated, which is in effect home schooling. Brachos, davening, middos, and everything else was learned where life had originally been given, which was at home. The classroom itself is seen as an artificial substitute for the learning-equals-life model. However, Yehoshua ben Gamla wisely saw that due to historical and sociological realities, not everyone had a home where Torah was being taught. Furthermore, unlike earlier generations, where even orphans were able to learn from someone else’s parent, this was no longer possible. Therefore, as a second or even last resort, school was invented. The rosh yeshiva concluded that, nevertheless, parents must continue to teach their children, albeit not in the formal school setting, but in the sanctity of the Jewish home.
One of the post-Chanukah ideas that we must remember is that the mitzvah of lighting the menorah is primarily ish ubeiso, a man and his home. In other words, the interplay between parents, home, and children is primary on the Torah horizon. Unlike the Greeks, as led by Socrates and Plato, parents are not in the way, extraneous to childrearing, but primary sources of how to act, live, and even eat. I am reminded of the Chofetz Chaim’s beautiful interpretation of the posuk in Tehillim simply known as L’Dovid (kappitel 27): “One thing I asked of Hashem, that shall I seek: That I dwell in the house of Hashem all the days of my life ulevaker beheichalo – to visit His sanctuary.” Now, which is the house of Hashem and which is His sanctuary?
If we conclude that Hashem’s home is the sanctuary, then what is the Bais Hashem? The Chofetz Chaim’s answer is that the Bais Hashem is our home. That is where we live, whereas we only visit the bais haknesses and bais hamedrash. If we see our homes as the source of light, knowledge, and middos for our children and all others who enter those portals, then it is truly a Bais Hashem. After Chanukah, when we have lit the menorah every night, basked in its glow and danced in front of it with our children, we can truly say that we have rejected the Greek model and embraced the Torah system. Parents are the primary teachers because we are there when “life happens.” Even a Smart Board is no substitute for a smart father and mother who are always teaching, preferably by example and, if necessary, by gentle word and guidance.
We must conclude with a story we have only from the Rama (in his Sefer Toras Ha’olah). He relates that Plato arrived in Yerushalayim together with Nevuchadnetzar. After the destruction of the Bais Hamikdosh, Plato saw Yirmiyohu crying over the churban. The philosopher asked the novi two questions: “You are considered the wisest of the Jews. Why do you cry over sticks and stones? Secondly, since the building has already been destroyed, what is the point of shedding tears over what has already occurred?”
Yirmiyohu responded, “You are a philosopher. You must have many unanswered questions. Tell them to me and I will resolve them for you.” Plato did so and Yirmiyohu easily answered every one of his philosophical issues. Now it was Plato’s turn to be shocked. “Are you a human being or an angel, since you have so much wisdom inside of you?” Yirmiyohu responded, “In answer to your first question, all of my wisdom comes from those sticks and stones. Regarding your second question, I cannot answer, because you will never understand.” The Alter of Kelm (quoted by the Lev Eliyohu) explained Yirmiyohu’s reticence to answer the question: “The truth is that we don’t cry over the past. We cry over the future because the gates of tears were never shut,” but this he was not capable of understanding.
The difference between us and the Yevonim is between those who believe in a Father in heaven and those who don’t, those who believe in a father and mother at home who are the best teachers of their children and those who believe in surrogates for everything. But most importantly, it is between those who know when to weep and when to dance, when to cry and when to sing.
During Chanukah, we sang, danced, and lit our menorahs at home. On Friday, we will go into Shabbos with tears, and then we will be happy again. We don’t just discuss Yiddishkeit or philosophize about it. We live it, and the best place for that is at home.
May we have lichtigkeit in our homes all year long, iy”H.
