Chanukah 5782
With the benefit of hindsight, Chanukah certainly seems an odd celebration. The victory over a foreign nation would establish an era of peace that would prove to be short lived. Not only would the Bais Hamikdash ultimately be destroyed, but it would be only a couple of generations before even the Jewish establishment would become engulfed in corruption.
But this assessment actually doesn’t demand hindsight at all. It is clear that even at the time, the foresight to perceive that the second Bais Hamikdash would not endure was already present.
וּמִקְדָּשׁ שֵׁנִי ונְהִי דְּיָדְעִין לְהוֹן דְּיִחְרוּב מִי יוֹדְעִין לְאִימַּתִּי
נזיר דף לב
The second Temple, granted that they knew it would be destroyed. But did they know when it would be destroyed?
Nazir 32b
The leaders of the generation knew full well that even as the Temple stood, even as a significant portion of the nation resided in Israel, the Jews nevertheless already found themselves in exile. That the Bais Hamikdash would be destroyed was a foregone conclusion. The prophecies detailing the Messianic era have always been known to refer not to the second Temple, but the third. Why, then, celebrate a spike in Jewish sovereignty that was known even at the time to be nothing more than a brief deviation from the general sweeping tide of exile?
I believe the answer speaks to something that I refer to as the “paradox of productivity,” which runs as follows: productive people have a greater tendency to undervalue their achievements than do unproductive people. If you are productive, you are forever in pursuit of your next goal, which makes it difficult to pause and revel in the victory of having achieved the previous one. One’s ambitions are always so great that whatever has already been accomplished can become dwarfed by the magnitude of all that we still hope to—and feel that we must—do.
This mentality can create a culture in which those who accomplish most actually celebrate those accomplishments the least. And yet celebrating our wins can bear enormous results. Perhaps most importantly, celebrating wins can help curb burnout. When ambition is high but the sense of genuine accomplishment is low, it is only so long before we start to wonder why we bother pushing forward.
The difference between ignoring our wins and recognizing them is the difference between feeling that we’re running on a hamster wheel versus climbing a spiral staircase. If we don’t recognize what we’ve accomplished, we’re forever in motion with nothing to show for it. If we do appreciate all we’ve gained, we can peer over the banister, see how far we’ve already climbed, and be inspired to continue to scale.
When we celebrate our wins, we also make a profound statement of our values, declaring, “This is a a big deal. Other things? Less so.” This can be a huge step in influencing those around us—be they children, employees, or team members—as to what we regard as valuable, and what they should value in turn. We may hold a strong compass of good and bad, right and wrong, valuable and valueless in our own minds, but outward celebration is a powerful means of communicating to others in our orbit that this is what we define as important.
Rebbe Tarfon best captured the Jewish ethos when he stated, “היום קצר והמלאכה מרובה—the day is short and the work is great (Avos, 2:15).” Judaism preaches productivity and insists that there is always more to do. And yet, Judaism also demands that we make time for celebrating our wins, even as each accomplishment leaves so much more yet to be done.
A siyum is one such indication, beckoning us to pause and reflect on what’s been accomplished even as we recognize all that lays before us to yet learn and understand. It is of particular note in this regard that as we complete a masechta, we do so with the words “הדרן עלך—we will return to you.” And why must we return? Because not only are there yet more masechtos that lay ahead, but we cannot even profess to have adequately understood all the wisdom that this present one contains. Nevertheless, a siyum enjoys the status as a bona fide “seudas mitzvah”. The celebration is genuine, despite all that still lays ahead.
It is in this light that Chanukah best be understood. With respect to longterm redemption, liberating and rededicating the second Bais Hamikdash would ultimately prove an exercise in futility. Yet what it provided in the moment was a chance to appreciate Hashem’s providence and the opportunity to serve Him properly in a re-consecrated sanctuary, even if that sanctuary would eventually be destroyed. Chanukah is celebrated not because it’s the final destination, or because there is no more for our brimming ambition to long for. But because there is much to be said for celebrating wins, milestones, and accomplishments, even as we fully intend on achieving more.