It’s easy to fall into the trap of believing that life is all or nothing, feast or famine. A quick look at a newspaper will tell you all about those who are diving into their money piles like Scrooge McDuck, buying social media platforms and taking personal rockets into outer space for funsies. We hear less about the other side of the equation: the desolate, the hungry, the fearful, the lonely. Their stories do make the news, usually much farther down the page, but it’s emotionally draining to spend too much time looking at other people’s pain, and we have been advised a lot over the past few years to take an emotional health break and look away. The truth is that most of us will neither see true feast or famine, at least not the way the top and bottom 1% experience it, and the more enlightened among us have learned to fill up our gratitude journals and help others when we have the time and the means. Moving on.
This week’s Torah portion, Mikeitz, puts the question of feasts and famines at the forefront. Joseph, newly shaven and dressed, is brought out of prison at Pharaoh’s behest in the hopes that he can interpret two disturbing dreams. In the first, seven “fat and handsome” cows are devoured by seven “poor, truly repulsive, emaciated” cows. In the next dream, seven ears of grain, “full and good,” are swallowed up by seven others, “dried up, thin, scorched by the east wind!” Acknowledging that the ability to interpret these dreams comes from God’s will to “account for Pharaoh’s well-being,” Joseph proceeds to explain that Egypt will soon see seven years of plenty, followed by seven years of harsh famine, and Pharaoh places Joseph “in charge of [his] household” and “all the land of Egypt.” To top it all off, Pharaoh gifts Joseph with his pharaonic signet ring, “gold chain [of office],” and his viceroy’s chariot – not to mention a new bride!
Joseph knew from experience that periods of feast and famine rarely last. Having once been the favored son in a large group of brothers, gifted with the famous technicolor dreamcoat, he found himself stripped and thrown in a ditch before being sold into slavery. As a slave, he “found favor” in the sight of Potiphar, his master, and was placed in “authority over his household,” only to find himself thrown into prison after refusing the sexual advances of Potiphar’s wife. Newly delivered from the miseries of prison life and raised into a position of immense power, Joseph must have known more than most that this period of feast was not to be squandered. Moreover, he believed that this newfound feast was God’s doing, and he set out immediately to get to work, using his power to store up food so that, in the time of famine, he was able to provide for the rest of Egypt. And, of course, Joseph’s talent with food storage eventually leads his desperate brothers back to him, ignorant of his identity and groveling at his feet.
Perhaps Joseph’s story has something in common with the Hanukkah miracle. While his personal stores must have been depleted after so much betrayal, hardship, and loss, he managed to keep his fire burning and used every opportunity provided him to share his light with others. As we continue lighting candles over the next few nights, may we be reminded of all the miracles that have brought us to where we are today. Whether this year has been a fat cow or an emaciated one for you, or more probably somewhere in the middle, it is always good to remember that our times of plenty give us a sacred opportunity to share our light and care for those around us. We may not have an interpreter of dreams to tell us what to expect in the coming years, but we have the gift of community and love, helping us find laughter through our tears and feasts in times of famine. Shabbat Shalom and chag Hanukkah sameach!
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca Abbate
