Things are Looking Up Recently, the New York State Department of Transportation began prepping Route 306, near my home, for the installation of a sidewalk. Now, it may not be what Bathurst Street is to Toronto, or even what Ocean Parkway is to Brooklyn, but in Monsey, Route 306 is pretty prominent, and we traverse it all the time. One thing they did (I assume it was “THEM” but it could have been the utility company for their own nefarious storm-preparation reasons) was clear-cut trees all along the road, and install many new telephone poles. I figured they needed to move the poles to make room for the sidewalks, but what I could not understand was why they installed some poles mere inches away from the previous ones. I remarked as much to my wife one Shabbos as we walked passed them. “Why on earth would they put in a new pole just six inches away from the old one?!” I couldn’t figure it out. It was only a couple weeks later that I noticed something as I drove down Route 306. No, it wasn’t the houses I couldn’t see before the tree removal, and it wasn’t the signs of the shopping center that had previously been obscured by branches. What I just happened to notice after dozens of times of driving past the new poles was that they were nearly TWICE THE HEIGHT of the previous poles! Suddenly, it made sense. They weren’t moving the poles to put in the sidewalk, they were installing higher poles, presumably to be above the now non-existent tree line in case of more storms like we’ve had the past few years. A pole might have been in a good spot, yet a taller one needed to be installed so the new one was placed right next to the old one, which will eventually be removed. I’m sure you’re all quite fascinated with my little construction anecdote, but why am I telling you about it? I’m glad you asked. One of the halachos of Chanuka is that the Menorah cannot be higher than 20 Amos (cubit = 15 – 24 inches or so) because people’s eyes do not generally see that high up. As it is not in the standard field of vision, people might miss it, and the intended publicizing of the miracle would not occur. This is precisely what happened to me. I was walking along looking at the poles. I noticed them numerous times, yet I only saw the bottom half. I did not raise my gaze to recognize that there was a clear reason to place the poles where they were, as these were special poles that were not like the others. It was only later, when driving down the street and taking in a longer stretch of road at one shot, my gaze raised as I aimed high in my steering, that I was able to see the plan begin to make sense. What I could not see when it was right in front of my nose was clear when my nose was a bit removed. I think the same is true of many of the miracles we experience in life. We have ups and downs, good days and challenging ones, and some things we can’t figure out. We wonder why HaShem did this to us, and we shake our heads in confusion. That’s because we’re too close to the action. Were we to take a step back, or even to look back later on, with the benefit of more elapsed time, we would be able to see what was over our heads before and recognize the wisdom of the Planner. On Chanuka, however, HaShem didn’t make us wait. He didn’t make us try to figure out what was going on. Instead, He put the miracle right in our field of view. We beat the Greek army against great odds, but maybe it wasn’t miraculous. Maybe we got lucky; maybe we surprised them with our guerilla warfare and outwitted them with our “gemara kups.” But no. HaShem gave us the miracle of the oil to show us that the war was all part of G-d’s plan, and it was one of His miracles too. By making sure the oil burned longer than it could possibly have done normally, HaShem put the miracle in our field of vision to make sure we saw it and got the message. To commemorate this, we make sure that the Menorahs we light are placed where people can see them, to remind us that even though HaShem made an obvious miracle that time, we are constantly surrounded by miracles that we might not catch a glimpse of, if we didn’t lift our eyes and look for them. Perhaps, that is why Chanuka has become a time to make parties to celebrate the personal miracles we each experience, and to relate how HaShem provided salvation to us in unremarkable ways that seemed so natural, yet were undoubtedly a calculated part of HaShem’s master plan. So this Chanuka, raise your eyes to the sky and start to see just what HaShem has been planning for you. Begin to appreciate all the prep work He has been doing all these years, and think what it might mean for you on the long road ahead. by Rabbi Jonathan Gewirtz
Posted on: Sun, 01 Dec 2013 15:21:58 +0000
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