Hubris, Humility, and Ḥanukkah - Vayyeshev 5786
Our tradition emphasizes the value of humility and introspection, and now is the time for the Israeli government to engage in some regarding the failures of October 7, 2023.
(Please note: this sermon was written and delivered before the murderous antisemitic attack in Sydney on the first night of Ḥanukkah.)
Ḥanukkah is a prime example of the oft-cited, yet clearly over-simplified template for Jewish holidays: “They tried to kill us; we won; let’s eat.” Let’s eat latkes and jelly donuts! This is a holiday that is all about the fried.
Within that very simple template, there is a piece that is easily overlooked: that of humility. The Ḥanukkah story, the Pesaḥ story, the Tish’ah BeAv story, the Sukkot story, and of course Rosh Hashanah/Yom Kippur all include elements of humility. Our tradition expects that humility will be a part of the arc of destruction and redemption, of being torn down and building back up.
There is a reason that the Torah is given in the desert, just after the Israelites have been liberated from slavery. That reason is that we had to be open to it in order to receive it. Our ancestors received the Torah not in arrogance or triumph, but in the lowest possible state, in the emptiest of surroundings.
We began reading this morning the story of Yosef, son of Ya’aqov and Raḥel, a narrative that will carry us all the way to the end of Bereshit / Genesis over four parashiyyot. And this story arc, though it has no specific holiday attached to it, very much includes the arc of destruction and redemption. Yosef is hated by his brothers, and for good reason: he just cannot stop himself from telling everybody how wonderful he is! And his parents do not object; Ya’aqov even makes it worse by giving him the ketonet pasim, the many-colored coat. With doting parents who clearly favored him, what motivation would Yosef have to change his behavior?
And what happens? He is humiliated completely. He is tossed in a pit, sold to slave-traders, and then to a wealthy family in Egypt where he resists the advances of the matron of the house, which of course lands him in jail. By the end of Parashat Vayyeshev, he has lost his family, his home, his self-respect, his honor, and his freedom.
And yet, we also know, because we have been reading this story over and over for thousands of years, and it is just so good that Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice turned it into a Broadway musical, that things are going to work out just fine for Yosef. He’ll be OK. You shouldn’t worry.
But the starting point of Yosef is one of hubris, of an overabundance of pride or arrogance. This is a sin that our monotheistic story shared with the idolatrous tales of ancient Greece: hubris offended the gods (small “g”), and caused the downfall of over-confident humans. Icarus flew too close to the sun; his wings melted, and he fell into the sea and died.
The cautionary tale about hubris is one we should continue to heed. I am sure that we have all seen this in ourselves: walking into an exam under-prepared and yet over-confident, and then failing, badly; telling ourselves and our loved ones how capable we are, and then letting them down in a crisis with a shrug of the shoulders and an, “Oh well, there was nothing I could do”; over-promising and under-delivering of all types. The danger of hubris is that it leads to a pattern of self-deception, victimhood, denial and avoidance. We court danger when we avoid introspection in the context of failure.
And of course this is as true for nations and as it is for individuals. How might we read the Yosef story in this particular moment as hubris and humility play out in the world?
We should not forget that the war in Israel is still going on, even though it is at a much lower level than it was prior to the ceasefire deal. The living hostages have come home; two former hostages have now spoken here in Pittsburgh, telling their story of humiliation and, barukh haShem, survival.
There is only one hostage whose remains are still held in Gaza: Ran Gvili, who has been there for 802 days; we continue to pray that he will be returned home to his family, his community, and his country for a respectable burial. And we also must pray that the next stage, the one where Hamas fighters are disarmed, happens quickly and completely, bimherah beyameinu (speedily and in our day).
But the two months of relative quiet, of the joyous return of the living and somber farewells to the dead have been, I think, good for Israel and the Jewish world. It has not necessarily been good for the current Israeli government, as they now know that the time of reckoning is at hand.
The pain endured over the past two years must be the springboard for our collective introspection and a whole lot of humility.
How did this happen? All of it? The breach of the border and the initial failure of the IDF? The scope of the worldwide attacks on Israel’s legitimacy? The growing wedge between Israel and her allies? These are questions that must be dealt with. Even so, I do not fault Israel or the Jewish people for responding as we all have in the context of war, which inevitably includes hard choices, usually between bad and worse.
But the most immediate concern is the widespread public demand in Israel for an independent, state commission of inquiry into the intelligence and governmental failures that led to the October 7 attack. Our current situation necessitates this basic act of humility.
It would be entirely inappropriate to blame Israel for the actions of Hamas. However, it is undeniable that intelligence reports, including a direct message from the Egyptian intelligence minister, had indicated for more than a year in advance that Hamas was actively preparing for a large-scale attack. And IDF intel revealed rumblings of such an offensive as far back as 2018.
Even more damning, the warnings of IDF surveillance soldiers, all women, called tatzpitaniyot, whose eyes were constantly trained on the border with Gaza from the Naḥal Oz outpost and others, were clearly ignored. Repeatedly. They saw military exercises, they witnessed Hamas fighters practicing the capture and commandeering of tanks, they saw explosive charges test-detonated near the fence. And these reports were waved off. Nobody in the upper echelons of power took Hamas seriously enough. And to top it off, Hamas not only knew all of the details of the Naḥal Oz base, but also knew how under-prepared and under-staffed it would be on a Shabbat morning at 6:30 AM to defend against a full onslaught.
I am hopeful that when the official inquiry into these failures is completed, that the parties responsible for these grave mistakes will be held accountable. It is undeniable that blood, much blood and even more misery, is on their hands.
But the bigger crime, the more serious downfall, is that of hubris. That the government of the State of Israel thought that Hamas was neither strong nor organized enough. That they underestimated the enemy, and were so certain of themselves that even in the face of significant information, they simply could not accept the reality or the magnitude of the threat.
Politicians who have staked their entire careers on protecting the citizens of Israel failed at the task they had taken on. And some of them are still in office.
The sixth chapter of Pirqei Avot is sometimes referred to as “The Baraita of Rabbi Meir,” and it is a study in humility. For example (6:4):
כַּךְ הִיא דַּרְכָּהּ שֶׁל תּוֹרָה, פַּת בְּמֶלַח תֹּאכַל, וּמַיִם בִּמְשׂוּרָה תִשְׁתֶּה, וְעַל הָאָרֶץ תִּישַׁן, וְחַיֵּי צַעַר תִּחְיֶה, וּבַתּוֹרָה אַתָּה עָמֵל …
Such is the way [of a life] of Torah: you shall eat bread with salt, and rationed water shall you drink; you shall sleep on the ground, your life will be one of privation, and in Torah shall you toil.
And (6:5):
אַל תְּבַקֵּשׁ גְּדֻלָּה לְעַצְמְךָ, וְאַל תַּחְמֹד כָּבוֹד, יוֹתֵר מִלִּמּוּדְךָ עֲשֵׂה, וְאַל תִּתְאַוֶּה לְשֻׁלְחָנָם שֶׁל מְלָכִים, שֶׁשֻּׁלְחָנְךָ גָדוֹל מִשֻּׁלְחָנָם, וְכִתְרְךָ גָדוֹל מִכִּתְרָם, וְנֶאֱמָן הוּא בַּעַל מְלַאכְתְּךָ שֶׁיְּשַׁלֵּם לְךָ שְׂכַר פְּעֻלָּתֶךָ:
Do not seek greatness for yourself, and do not covet honor. Practice more than you learn. Do not yearn for the table of kings, for your table is greater than their table, and your crown is greater than their crown, and faithful is your Employer to pay you the reward of your labor.
The mishnah is telling us that we must be open and austere like the desert to acquire Torah, and we must be humble and pursue simplicity in order to reap its rewards. This is truly the path to a holy existence, and one to which we should all aspire.
And when we are guilty of hubris, particularly when it has led to such devastating failure and bloodshed, we must take the reckoning seriously, and lean into the humility that our tradition expects of us.
The Ḥanukkah story reminds us that we triumphed over ancient Greek idolatry and culture, and we will celebrate this victory beginning tomorrow evening. But the lessons of the ancient world about hubris were just as resonant among the Jews, and they are still fundamental today.
Let this now be not only a period of rebuilding, but also of humility, of introspection, of asking the hard questions.
