בס "ד

Intégrer la Torah dans sa vie par la réflexion et la conversation peut être une expérience incroyablement amusante et engageante. C'est un voyage de découverte, où la sagesse ancienne et les enseignements intemporels prennent vie dans nos expériences quotidiennes. Grâce à la réflexion, nous avons la possibilité de plonger dans la riche tapisserie de la Torah, d'en extraire des idées et des leçons profondes qui résonnent dans notre vie moderne. La joie réside dans les moments "aha", ces occasions où un verset ou une histoire de la Torah se connecte soudainement à nos défis personnels, nos aspirations et nos valeurs. Et lorsque nous nous engageons dans des conversations sur la Torah avec d'autres personnes, cela devient une exploration interactive, où des perspectives et des interprétations diverses améliorent notre compréhension. Ces dialogues suscitent souvent l'enthousiasme et la curiosité intellectuelle, rendant le processus d'apprentissage à la fois agréable et satisfaisant. La Torah devient une partie vivante et dynamique de notre vie, offrant non seulement des conseils mais aussi une source de fascination, de connexion et de croissance sans fin.

REMARQUE : Ne vous sentez pas obligé de parcourir toutes les sources ou de répondre à toutes les questions - à moins que vous ne le souhaitiez. Même une seule source ou une seule question vous donnera beaucoup de matière pour la discussion et la méditation. Profitez-en !

Some thoughts from the Parsha

“And it came to pass at the end of two full years that Pharaoh dreamed…”
(Genesis 41:1)

Joseph’s story pauses for two full years in prison after the chief cupbearer forgets him. The Torah could have moved on quickly. Instead, it emphasizes the waiting. Nothing happens. No progress is visible. No explanation is given.

And then, suddenly, everything changes.

The Torah marks that turning point with the word ketz , “the end.” Not the end of suffering, but the end of a phase whose purpose was invisible from the inside.

One of the most corrosive assumptions human beings make, religiously and psychologically, is that if something is delayed, it must be denied. If help does not come quickly, perhaps it is not coming at all. If a promise is not fulfilled on our timetable, maybe it was never real.

The Torah challenges that assumption directly.

From Joseph’s perspective, Pharaoh’s dream looks like the cause of his redemption. From the Torah’s perspective, it is merely the mechanism. The ketz had already been set. The dream was just the key that fit the lock when the time arrived.

This distinction matters. There is a difference between waiting without meaning and waiting within a process. Joseph was not in limbo. He was in formation.

That is why the Torah repeatedly emphasizes that G-d was “with Joseph” even when nothing outward improved. Divine presence does not always express itself as visible success. Sometimes it expresses itself as preservation: the ability to endure, to retain moral clarity, and to remain inwardly oriented toward G-d even when circumstances stagnate.

Chanukah carries the same lesson, but from a different angle. The miracle of the oil is not impressive because it burns brightly. It is impressive because it burns consistently. One small flame, day after day, refusing to go out before its time.

The Sages chose to commemorate that constancy rather than the military victory because wars belong to history, but patience belongs to faith.

This also guards us against a theological error that has caused immense confusion across cultures: the belief that delay, struggle, or failure means rejection. From that assumption grows the idea that covenants can be annulled, replaced, or superseded when human beings falter.

The Torah does not operate that way.

G-d does not revoke responsibility because people struggle to live up to it. He does not replace covenants because history gets complicated. He works through time, not around it. Covenants mature; they are not discarded.

For Noahides, this is especially important. The moral structure given to humanity was not provisional. It was designed for a long, difficult human story. Delay does not mean disqualification. Waiting does not mean abandonment.

Miketz and Chanukah together teach a disciplined form of hope: not impatience disguised as faith, and not despair disguised as realism — but trust that time itself is one of the instruments G-d uses to shape human beings.

Darkness does not mean G-d has left. Often, it means He is still working.

Réfléchissez maintenant aux questions suivantes :

  1. How do I usually interpret delays in my life — as rejection, randomness, or part of a process?
  2. What would it look like to wait faithfully rather than passively?
  3. Can I identify times when nothing changed outwardly, but something was forming inwardly?
  4. How does this perspective challenge the idea that struggle invalidates a mission or covenant?
  5. What “small light” am I responsible to keep burning steadily, even without immediate results?

Shabbat Shalom !

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Par le rabbin Tani Burton

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