Why Does Money Attract Us So Much? A Surprising Discovery from the Teachings of Chassidus

00:00 Let’s talk today about money—a subject that occupies the whole world. So much revolves around money. What exactly is its power? Is there another, less familiar way to look at it? Let’s start with the custom of giving money on Chanukah: Chanukah money, Chanukah gelt for children. This is an old custom, with a source in halachah, in the Shulchan Aruch and the Magen Avraham, which mention the custom of young people going from door to door asking for Chanukah money. And that is how it became a Jewish custom everywhere for parents to give their children money on this holiday, and for people in general to distribute Chanukah gelt. What exactly is the connection between Chanukah and money? That’s a well-known question, and others ask an even deeper one: Why not give children presents? Is Chanukah specifically a time to give money? As we’ll see, there is something significant about giving them coins, Chanukah money. Why not buy them nice presents, educational things, or things they like? No—there is something special about money on Chanukah. What is the message, and what does it have to do with Chanukah? Today we’ll look at this from two angles, drawing on two very interesting sources, also in connection with the weekly parshas we learn at this time. Parshas Mikeitz and Vayigash are usually the parshas associated with Chanukah. Vayeishev, Mikeitz, Vayigash—the whole story of the sale of Yosef is another place where we encounter money. Throughout the story of Yosef Hatzaddik, the weekly parshas place great emphasis on money. The brothers go down to Egypt during the years of famine to get money—to get food, sorry—and Yaakov sends them with money, which they bring to Yosef. Yosef returns their money, and not only does he return it, he gives them more money. The whole

02:33 story keeps revolving around it. On their way home, “one of them opened his sack.” Levi opens his sack and finds the treasure, the money. Later, when they tell Yosef that it wasn’t theirs and they don’t know how it got there, he says to them, “Your G-d and the G-d of your father gave you a treasure.” Then, the second time, when they come with Binyamin, he again sends them back with their money, and in addition to the money, he gives them a silver goblet. Silver again. This time it’s a silver goblet, and the whole story involving Binyamin revolves around it. They return to Egypt, and then everything comes to a head: Yosef reveals himself and says, “I am Yosef.” So we need to understand this aspect of the parsha too: money is at the center of its story. Today we’ll see how money means far more than simply money, and how it connects to the theme of these weekly parshas: exile and Geulah. Yosef Hatzaddik was the first to go down into exile. As explained in Chassidus, in the works of the Baal Shem Tov’s disciples, and in works of Kabbalah, the entire story of Yosef’s sale is connected with the life of the Jewish people in exile—not only the Egyptian exile, but every exile—and with the preparation for the true and complete Geulah. And Chanukah, fundamentally, is also about education. So today we’ll also see a wonderful educational message that the Rebbe once explained—actually, wrote in a letter. Chanukah is, after all, a holiday of education. It gives us wonderful messages about education; even its name is related to the word chinuch, education. On Chanukah, then, we have a message about education specifically connected with money. What are we trying

04:43 to teach the children? And what message do we convey by giving them Chanukah money? In connection with the weekly parsha, the Hebrew word for money, kesef, comes from the word for longing, kisufim. “You longed so deeply,” Lavan says to Yaakov when Yaakov flees Lavan’s house, “you longed so deeply for your father’s home.” There is also the verse, “My soul longs and yearns.” In Kabbalah, kesef is associated with longing and love. In other words, we’re speaking about spiritual money. According to Kabbalah, silver and gold symbolize two things: silver symbolizes love of Hashem, and gold symbolizes awe of Hashem. This is also connected with their colors: silver resembles water, which represents kindness, while the color of natural gold more closely resembles fire, which represents awe. Water and fire, kindness and severity, love and awe. So silver symbolizes love of Hashem. Now, what is the story behind Yosef Hatzaddik’s descent to Egypt? When we read these parshas on a superficial level, we see a terrible story: brothers, jealousy, hatred, rivalry. Yosef wants to be king; his brothers pursue him and sell him. Viewed superficially, the story of Yosef’s sale is dreadful. But when we begin to look at the explanations in the Midrashim, and especially in the inner dimension of Torah, which explains everything at its root—in the Zohar and then in the works of Chassidus—we discover layer upon layer of depth. It actually begins already in the Gemara. The Gemara in Tractate Sotah tells us that Yosef’s sale into Egypt was all a prelude to enabling the Jewish people to come down to Egypt with dignity. When Yaakov Avinu sends Yosef, the verse says, “He sent him from the valley of Chevron.” The Gemara asks: What does “the valley of Chevron” mean? Chevron isn’t necessarily a valley. The Gemara answers: It refers to the profound counsel of that righteous man buried in Chevron—Avraham Avinu. For at the Covenant

07:21 Between the Parts, Hakadosh Boruch Hu told him, “Your descendants will be strangers in a land that is not theirs, and they will enslave and afflict them for four hundred years.” They were destined to be in the Egyptian exile, so that exile had to begin. Yosef was chosen so that the Jewish people would come down to Egypt with dignity. As the Midrash says, Yaakov Avinu could have been brought down to Egypt in iron chains, but Hakadosh Boruch Hu showed kindness: through Yosef’s sale, they came down with royal honor. That is what the parshas we’re learning now describe. In this week’s parsha, Vayigash, Yosef brings Yaakov and his brothers down, and they are accorded royal honor and receive the land of Goshen, the choicest part of the country. On a deeper level, Yosef’s sale into Egypt did more than prepare for exile and ease their entry into it, as we’ve discussed. There is something far deeper here. By going down to Egypt, Yosef Hatzaddik gave the Jewish people the strength to endure exile. He gave them the strength to hold fast to their faith, to maintain a strong connection with Hakadosh Boruch Hu, and not to let their love for Him weaken because of all the trials and hardships of exile. Exile, we understand, is a test. “Because of our sins, we were exiled from our land.” The Jewish people are in a place that is not theirs. Every exile throughout the generations has brought times of trial and hardship, a darkness doubled and redoubled. These are difficult times, when we are like one sheep among seventy wolves, and need tremendous faith and trust, and the strength to stand firm—not to be shaken by all the trials and hardships of exile. And more than that: exile can actually make us stronger. As Chassidus explains at length, we see something remarkable: specifically in the darkness of exile, at its most difficult moments, faith is awakened

09:46 In an even stronger way. We see that it is precisely in moments of darkness that the Jewish people’s mesirus nefesh awakens—the power of self-sacrifice, the deepest power, the yechidah of the soul, its deepest part. A Jew’s deepest bond with Hakadosh Boruch Hu awakens precisely in moments of darkness. We see this in the story of Chanukah. There was the period of the Greeks and the Hellenists, the Greek decrees aimed at making them forget Your Torah and turning them away from the statutes of Your will, as we say in Al Hanissim. And here we saw that precisely in the hardest moments of the Greek exile, in the struggle against the Greeks, with all the details of the story as our Sages tell it, the Chashmonaim, the Maccabees, rose up with the power of mesirus nefesh. They stood courageously, the few against the many, the weak against the strong, the pure against the impure. This brought victory in the war, a miraculous victory, and led to the finding of the flask of oil and the great miracle of the oil lasting eight days—which is really the essence of this holiday. So here we see the deepest point of the power of love, the power of kesef, of longing: a Jew’s love for Hakadosh Boruch Hu remains in full force even in the darkness of exile, together with the longing for Geulah. Even when a Jew is in exile, he never gets used to exile. A Jew never settles into a state of, “Things are good for me, everything is fine, I’m here. Let’s build my life here and leave it at that.” A Jew always lives with “Ani Maamin.” A Jew always lives with faith, with trust, with anticipation. He waits. He looks forward. “I await him every day.” As the Rebbe always emphasized: “I await him every day, that he should come”—not that he should come sometime, but “I await him every day, that he should come today.” Every day a Jew says: “I’m waiting, I believe, I’m waiting for Moshiach to come.” But when? Today, not tomorrow,

11:59 which ties in with the wonderful story the Gemara tells us about Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi. He met Eliyahu Hanavi, who sent him to meet Moshiach at the gates of Rome. He asked him, “When will the Master come?” When is Moshiach coming? And he answered him, “Today.” It’s a very well-known Gemara. He told him, “Today.” Only after the day had passed and he saw that Moshiach had not come did he receive the explanation: “Today, if you will listen to His voice.” So the Rebbe asks: Why didn’t he tell him from the outset, “Today, if you will listen to His voice”? Why give him expectations and then disappointment? He could have told him plainly, “Today, if you will listen to His voice.” Fine, it depends on our Torah and mitzvos. If we listen to His voice, if we do teshuvah, we will be redeemed, as the Gemara in Sanhedrin says. The answer is: No. A Jew needs to wait every single day, with longing, yearning, love, thirst, and desire for Geulah today, not tomorrow. Every day is a day for Geulah. And this power—to be in times of darkness and trials, and nevertheless for a Jew’s longing and love for Hakadosh Boruch Hu to remain in full force, unchanged; on the contrary, for that love to grow ever stronger—we received from Yosef Hatzaddik. That is the story of the kesef that the parsha—the parshiyos—tell us. That is what the whole story is about. When the sons of Yaakov went down to Egypt, Yosef Hatzaddik—according to Kabbalah, according to Chassidus, Yosef Hatzaddik represents the soul. That is why he in particular is called Yosef Hatzaddik, reflecting “the tzaddik, the foundation of the world.” Yosef Hatzaddik is the sefirah of Yesod, the sefirah that joins and connects, the foundation of the entire building. Just as a foundation connects a building to the ground—a building without a foundation cannot stand—Yesod is what connects. Yosef Hatzaddik is called “the tzaddik, the foundation of the world”; he is the aspect that joins and connects. He connects the Jewish people

14:14 throughout all generations, especially in times of exile, enabling them to maintain a bond—a bond of longing, a bond of love for Hakadosh Boruch Hu. And through whom is that awakened? Through Yosef Hatzaddik. That is why he was chosen to go down to Egypt. This explains the whole story of why the Torah devotes four parshiyos to Yosef Hatzaddik. No one else received so many parshiyos. Avraham Avinu has perhaps two parshiyos, let’s say two and a half. Yitzchak, a parsha and a half. Yaakov, two parshiyos in which the Torah speaks about and recounts his life. Then comes Yosef Hatzaddik, with four parshiyos: Vayeishev, Mikeitz, Vayigash, and Vayechi. Why Yosef—Yosef in particular? He is not one of the Patriarchs; he is one of the tribes, yet he received so many parshiyos. The Torah tells his story in minute detail, and the commentators ask this very question: Why do we need such a lengthy account of the dreams, and then more dreams, and the details of the dreams—the dreams of the officials, the chief cupbearer and the chief baker, Pharaoh’s dreams, and the interpretations of the dreams? The Torah could have told the whole story in a few short verses, as it does with many things. Yet here the Torah chooses to tell the story in minute detail. Because the story of Yosef contains the strength of the Jewish people throughout all the years of exile, right up to our own day. Yosef is called “the ruler over the land of Egypt”; he is “the one who provided grain for all the land.” It is explained in the sefarim that this has a spiritual meaning. Yosef is the ruler over the land of Egypt. Egypt symbolizes exile. Why is it called Mitzrayim? Because they oppress Israel. All the periods of oppression of Israel, all the Jewish people’s exiles—in Egypt, Babylonia, Persia and Media, Greece, and the long, grueling exile of Edom, down to our own day. So who provides grain in the land of Egypt? Who is it that gives the... who is it that gives the strength? Who is it that gives the kesef, the longing and love to the Jewish people even

16:22 in those moments? It is Yosef. And this is the meaning of the money Yosef hid in the brothers’ sacks. The Alter Rebbe explains this beautifully in his maamarim. Yosef Hatzaddik, as we said, is the one who gave the Jewish people the strength to endure the darkness of exile throughout all its years. So he places the treasure inside; he puts in the kesef, the money—he hides the kesef, the longing. He placed in every Jew’s heart the hidden love, in the language of Tanya—the hidden love, the natural love, a Jew’s love for Hakadosh Boruch Hu. A Jew loves Hakadosh Boruch Hu by nature. A Jew is drawn to Hakadosh Boruch Hu: “The soul of man is Hashem’s candle.” Just as a flame naturally leaps upward, as though it wants to escape the wick, the soul always has a natural longing for Hakadosh Boruch Hu. That love is hidden. There is a sack—these are the sacks the parsha tells us about. A sack is something heavy, made of heavy fabric, that covers what is inside. It is the sack of kelipah. As the Alter Rebbe explains in Tanya, there is, so to speak, a sackcloth garment: the darkness of the animal soul, the body, the yetzer hara. That is the sack in which it is wrapped. But inside the sack lies the great secret. Inside the sack lies the treasure of kesef that Yosef put there. And as though that were not enough, when they brought Binyamin down and Yosef placed the silver goblet there, that was a profound infusion of a Jew’s connection to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. The whole subject of the silver goblet is explained in the teachings of Chassidus. What is the story of Yosef Hatzaddik and the silver goblet? A goblet is not just an ordinary cup. It is a large cup. The commentators write that the goblet is a cup used to transfer a drink; it serves, so to speak, as an intermediary, taking from the barrel, the large bottle or jug, and pouring it into the cups

18:38 the small ones. There is a cup, a goblet, and a barrel. The goblet is, so to speak, in the middle: a large cup that takes from one place and transfers to another. That is Yosef Hatzaddik. He is the goblet. He is the tzaddik, “the foundation of the world,” who bestows upon the Jewish people. He takes the higher lights, the blessings from above, brings them into the cups, transfers them into each and every soul, and gives them to every individual. The silver goblet. That is why it says that the numerical value of “goblet” is the same as “mouth.” This, too, is about the mouth, the intermediary, the power to bestow. And it says in the sefarim that the numerical value of “goblet” is five times “good.” Five times “good” equals “mouth,” eighty-five, and this is connected with “the light was good.” The word “light” appears five times at the beginning of the creation of the world, in Bereishis. On the first day of creation, “light” appears five times: “the light was good,” five times “good,” five times “light,” corresponding to the Five Books of the Torah. In any case, what are we discussing here? The light, the bestowal, the love that Yosef Hatzaddik brought in by giving it to Binyamin. Specifically Binyamin, Yosef’s brother, who was born as Ben Oni, born at a difficult moment. Rachel Imeinu gave her life to bring Binyamin into the world. In the language of Kabbalah, Binyamin is called “the lower tzaddik.” In a sense, he represents the souls of the Jewish people in exile: Ben Oni, which is then Ben Yamin. Yaakov Avinu transforms the suffering, the hardship, into Binyamin—an expression of the right side and of kindness. So this is found in the goblet, specifically through Yosef placing the silver goblet in Binyamin’s sack and all the tribes putting themselves on the line for Binyamin. That was the story: all the tribes said, “We’re not going home. We’re going back to Egypt; we don’t care.” Yes, they stand there and say,

20:35 “We are all slaves.” The tribes’ self-sacrifice over Binyamin and the silver goblet gave the strength for that love—the strength for a Jew, in any situation, even in the hardest times of darkness in which we find ourselves, to have that yearning, that love, that unconditional bond, that strong connection with Hakadosh Boruch Hu, in every situation and under all circumstances. It is the power of self-sacrifice that is revealed in every generation. And that is really the story of Chanukah. So, as the holy Shelah writes, the story of Chanukah connects with the stories in the weekly parsha. The holy Shelah writes about our parshiyos that it is no coincidence that we always read about Yosef Hatzaddik precisely around Chanukah, because Yosef’s story is really the story that later happened on Chanukah. There are many allusions, numerical correspondences, and explanations about this, but the heart of it is the point we are discussing here. Yosef Hatzaddik is the one who gave the treasure. He gave the strength, the love, the power of self-sacrifice. And “one of them opened his sack”—the first to uncover it was Levi, because that is Levi’s role. Levi was the head of the family of Levites and kohanim; Aharon Hakohen descended from him. And it is the Levite who lights the lamps of the menorah, from which the miracle of the Chanukah lights later developed. So the first to open his sack and discover this treasure was Levi, from whom Aharon Hakohen descended. Aharon later lit the lamps of the menorah, which also represents the Jewish people: “a menorah entirely of gold,” as it says in the haftarah of Chanukah, referring to the souls of the Jewish people. Who kindles this love within them? Aharon Hakohen. And that power of “one of them opened his sack,” which began with Yosef Hatzaddik, later led to the great miracle of Chanukah, when Jews stood with self-sacrifice—the Chashmonaim, who were also kohanim

22:42 descended from Aharon, from the tribe of Levi. They were the ones who opened the sack. They were the ones who removed the darkness, lifted the covering, and revealed the love that cannot be broken: the bond, the steadfast self-sacrifice for Hakadosh Boruch Hu. That was revealed in their self-sacrifice, in standing against the Greeks and the Hellenists, standing firm and bringing about a complete victory. That, in essence, is the miracle of Chanukah. From here we move to the subject of education. As we said, Chanukah is a festival of education: the education of every Jew, and especially of Jewish children. In fact, when we speak about Chanukah as a festival of education, the holy Shelah also says that Chanukah is the inauguration of the world. The entire world experiences a general renewal on Chanukah, throughout creation, because it is connected with the Mishkan, and the Mishkan is the center of the world: “They shall make Me a sanctuary, and I will dwell among them.” So Chanukah is, in essence, a festival of inauguration for all creation, a renewal within creation. And the sefarim contain many great and wondrous teachings about the power of Chanukah to renew ourselves, to be educated anew, to become pure—just as the Beis Hamikdash began anew, with its rededication, its purification, and the miracle of the oil. It is all connected with education. And here we come to a wonderful letter the Rebbe wrote to someone who asked this question: What is the idea behind giving children Chanukah gelt on this festival? So the Rebbe explained: If we look at physical money, money is one of the most central and essential things in a person’s life. With money you can obtain everything, from the most basic things—food, clothing, a home—to less basic things, and, of course, to the most important things in spiritual life. If you want to obtain an esrog, a lulav, tefillin, to fulfill a mitzvah, to educate children in a place of Torah study—it all involves money. A person needs money to live both a spiritual life and a physical life in a healthy way.

24:55 Money is a very, very important and scarce resource. Money is also dangerous when it is not used for the right purpose. When a person accumulates money for the wrong reasons, pours his soul into it and neglects his family, or devotes himself to money to the point of exhausting his strength, with his whole being caught up in money out of ego and a desire for honor, then money becomes a negative goal. To such an extent that they say in the name of the Alter Rebbe: The Gemara says that the yetzer hara for idol worship was killed. The Tanach tells us that idol worship was something to which the Jewish people were terribly drawn. The Gemara says that at a certain point, the yetzer hara for idol worship was killed. So the Alter Rebbe said that they took that force, that energy that drew Jews to idol worship, and transferred it to money—the desire for money. Money thus became a kind of idol worship. It is not actual idol worship, G-d forbid. But the attraction to money, when it becomes excessive, turns into a kind of idol worship. They say that the Alter Rebbe remarked, whether jokingly or seriously, “They transferred it to money. I don’t know if they did the right thing.” In other words, with idol worship, a person knows he is committing a sin, so he will also do teshuvah. With money, a person thinks it is fine—there is no halachic problem with pursuing money—so he will not do teshuvah for it either. That is an expression attributed to the Alter Rebbe. But now we come to the positive side of money. What do we see? As we said, money is central to obtaining all our needs. On the other hand, we know that money itself is nothing. What does that mean?

26:40 Nothing? You can’t do anything with money itself. Money itself isn’t food. Money itself isn’t clothing. Money itself isn’t a home. You can use money, and you can put it to good use. You have to think: What am I doing? What are the important things? And put your money toward those things. With money, I can do mitzvos, as we said. Money is a means, not a goal. And the wisdom, the message, when you give someone money, is that you’re telling him: You’ve received money; know how to use it. Have the good sense to use it for the right things—important, precious things—and not for foolish things. So that’s the message about money. Likewise, if we look at money as a means to higher goals, money symbolizes the inner wealth—with an ayin—that every Jewish child has. A child, a young person, has extraordinary powers, wonderful powers. Every one of us has a treasure trove. We have tremendous strengths: our intellect, our feelings, our yearnings, as we discussed earlier. The Hebrew word for money, kesef, is related to “nichsof nichsafti”—“I have yearned deeply”—the idea of yearning, of desire. A child begins to grow up; a young person has desires. When that same child is little, his desires are for very, very simple things: a desire for food, then a desire for games, and so on. The goal is to turn those yearnings, that desire, toward something much more idealistic, more elevated, more sublime—so that he truly understands how to use his energies. Especially when we’re talking about young people, who have such powerful energies, the energies of youth. He has a youthful spirit, he has strength, he has something driving him to do things. Curiosity, the urge to explore—wonderful things. It’s a wonderful gift, but you have to know how to use it. And that is what Chanukah gelt symbolizes. When Chanukah arrives, the festival of

28:55 education, we give children Chanukah gelt—money specifically—and tell them: The money is in your hands, and you decide what to do with it. Be wise, be discerning. Use the money, and your yearnings, for the right things. Then the money will be put to good use, and not, G-d forbid, the opposite. That, really, is the message. The same applies to all the wonderful strengths that Hakadosh Boruch Hu has given you. We say this to a young person, but really that young person is each of us. Sometimes you can be young in spirit even if you’re not young in years. Everyone needs to educate not only their children, but themselves too. Chanukah is a festival of education. The message is that all our strengths and energies are like money. They are strengths that Hakadosh Boruch Hu gives us. They are yearnings that a person should have. That’s healthy—but we need to know how to use them. They are a means to a goal, to higher goals: to build the world, not, G-d forbid, to destroy it. The task of Chanukah is to build the Beis Hamikdash, to purify, sanctify, and cleanse, and to bring out—to uncover—the flask of oil, to uncover the wonderful strengths hidden within us, and to kindle them for eight days. That is the miracle of Chanukah: from one small flask of oil comes such wonderful light for eight days. Eight represents what is beyond nature—the supernatural strengths that every one of us has. So that is the message of the theme of money, both in the weekly parshiyos and in Chanukah and the custom of Chanukah gelt. Every one of us has the money, the yearnings, that we received from Yosef Hatzaddik. King David says in Tehillim, chapter 80: “Shepherd of Israel, give ear, You who lead Yosef like a flock.” Chapter 80 of Tehillim. It’s a wonderful, profoundly powerful chapter about the Jewish people in exile. “You brought a vine out of Egypt; You drove out nations and planted it.”

31:00 Read chapter 80 of Tehillim. See what a powerful chapter it is. It speaks about the Jewish people leaving Egypt for a state of Geulah, then returning once again to states of exile, with extremely difficult verses expressing the darkness of exile. And yet: “You who lead Yosef like a flock.” Here we see that the Jewish people are called by Yosef’s name. There is Yosef Hatzaddik, and likewise there is the tzaddik, the foundation of the world. In every generation there is an aspect of Yosef Hatzaddik: the tzaddik of that generation, the tzaddik who is the foundation of the world, who gives every Jew the strength, the yearning, the self-sacrifice, and the love for Hakadosh Boruch Hu to use our strengths and energies in a healthy, proper way. And that is why Chanukah, specifically, prepares us for the complete Geulah. The strength, the self-sacrifice, the love within every Jew that is revealed especially in these latter days—we see it in the most wonderful way. It is this strength that will break the darkness of exile, just as Yosef Hatzaddik revealed himself to his brothers. Likewise, as the Zohar says, the whole account of Yosef’s revelation is also connected with the revelation of Moshiach Tzidkeinu. The tribe of Yehudah—“And Yehudah approached him.” Yehudah is the ancestor of King David, who is the ancestor of King Moshiach. As we say in the haftorah of Parshas Vayigash, in the future Yosef and Yehudah will be united and there will be one king: “My servant David will be king over them, and one prince will be for them all.” May it be speedily in our days, amen.