Parashat Miketz

A song of resilience, “Maoz Tzur,” traditionally sung each night of Chanukah, is a chronicle of survival, celebrating our unwavering faith in God despite the cyclical persecution we have faced throughout history. And yet, we open this song with a declaration of praise: “Maoz tzur yeshuati, lecha na’eh l’shabe’ach“—”Rock of my Salvation, to You it is proper to offer praise.”

This year, this song takes on a heartbreaking new resonance. Just days before the massacre at Bondi Beach, we encountered recently-released footage recovered from Gaza of The Beautiful Six – Ori Danino, Carmel Gat, Hersh Goldberg-Polin, Alex Lobanov, Almog Sarusi, Eden Yerushalmi – lighting a makeshift menorah and singing “Maoz Tzur” while held captive in the darkness of a Hamas tunnel. Their courage and defiant commitment to Jewish ritual, even in their final months, is a devastating testament to the Jewish light that tyranny can never extinguish.

It was in that tunnel that Hersh Goldberg-Polin shared that there is one verse “for each time they tried to kill us and failed.” Eden then joked that we now need to write a seventh verse. It isn’t lost on me that since these six were taken on the early morning of October 7, they didn’t know the full extent of the destruction and the heroism that happened in the days and months after their capture. They didn’t know the extent to which their story warrants a new verse.

There is no way they could have imagined two beautiful red-headed boys being kidnapped and murdered by vicious hands. Could they have dreamed of the anti-Israel protests in the streets of major cities around the world before we even finished burying our dead? Could they fathom the antisemitic takeovers and sit-ins by terrorist supporters at some of our most elite academic institutions? Would they understand why 15 innocent people were slain just as they were lighting the Chanukah candles on the first night of this joyous holiday?

But also — did they know that a brave boy named Aner Shapira z”l would save countless lives in a roadside bomb shelter by throwing out grenades with his bare hands? Or that a hero named Arnon Zamora z”l would manage to lead a team to rescue four hostages in a daring display of strength? Did they know over 300,000 Americans would stand on the National Mall in Washington, D.C., demanding the return of the hostages, or that families across the United States would dig deep and donate beyond their means to equip soldiers with adequate gear and delicious BBQs? And had they learned of a school in Westchester that flew hundreds of students to Israel during the war to stand in solidarity and to deepen their love of Israel, it surely would have brought sweet smiles to the faces of these Beautiful Six.

The poem “Maoz Tzur” itself is structured around six verses. The author takes us through the times of the Beit HaMikdash, our slavery in Egypt, the Babylonian exile, Haman’s murderous plot in the Persian empire, and the Hanukkah miracle under the oppression of the Greeks.

And tragically, Eden Yerushalmi was right. We are living in a time that not only warrants a seventh verse in “Maoz Tzur,” but could be yet another book of Tanakh with Jewish heroes and evil enemies intent on our destruction. The terrifying rise of antisemitism globally, from the ultra-left to the ultra-right, proves that a new chapter of oppression is indeed upon us. The forces of hatred, now masked by terror groups like Hamas as well as those standing by the rhetoric of “globalizing the Intifada,” seek to destroy the Jewish state and its people worldwide.

In the spirit of the “Maoz Tzur” poet, and at the encouragement of Eden Yerushalmi, I would like to propose a new seventh verse:

They breached the wall in that black night, to Be’eri and Nir Oz’s door;

They tore our brightest from the light, Kfir, Ariel, and countless more.

Though Manchester, Sydney, and D.C., b’yachad Nenatzeach we shall be.

The fury of our nation flows, but our strength from darkest trauma grows.

Our hope of 2,000 years shall never cease, our people in safety, strength, and peace.

This week’s parashah, Miketz, opens with Yosef languishing in Pharaoh’s dungeon, having been forgotten for two whole years. His situation seems hopeless; he’s a victim of injustice. Yet, Miketz means “at the end of,” and its opening sentence, “Vayehi miketz shnatayim yamim,” means “and it was at the end of two years.” Just then, at the end of two years, everything started to turn around for Yosef. Pharaoh had a dream, and the history of the Jewish people changed forever. I hope we, too, are at the end of two years of darkness. I hope somewhere, a big dream is unfolding that will put us on the path to ultimate strength and salvation.

May the light and memory of Ori, Carmel, Hersh, Alex, Almog, and Eden guide our way through these frightening times. And may our continued nightly singing of “Maoz Tzur” hasten the day when the final verse of redemption is sung in joy and security for all.

Chanukah Sameach and Shabbat Shalom.