Rav Yisroel Shapira of Grodzhisk
Whenever a person performs any mitzva, no matter which, even if he does not fully understand the meaning behind the mitzva or even if he fails to comprehend its essence – so long as he understands that this is a divine commandment and that Hashem ordered him to do it, he fills the entire world with holiness, which spreads throughout the world.
When a person purchases oil to light the Chanuka candles and receives this oil in hand, this act has the power to bring holiness into the entire world and to cause them all to return and do teshuva. This requires dveikus and attachment to Hashem, to cleave and bind oneself to the Creator of Genesis and to perform the mitzva for the sake of His blessed Name. Regarding this awesome act and moment, it is said yesh koneh olomo beshaa achas – “there are those who acquire their [share or portion] in the [coming] world in one moment”. In this one moment we can acquire the entire world and bring about teshuva! (Binas Yisrael Chanuka page 67b)
Rav Melech Biderman related a story that I believe illustrates the above teaching well:
Many decades ago, when Australia was still a barren spiritual wasteland and before many holy kehillos were established there, a Chassid visited the land down under for business. It was Thursday and by now our Chassid was worried where he would spend Shabbos. He decided to enter a fish store, trusting that surely here a Jew would come to buy fish lichvod Shabbos Kodesh. And so it was, that the proprietor handed a customer a large fine fish, whereupon the Chassid turned to the customer and asked if by any chance he was Jewish. Answering in the affirmative, the customer warmly invited the Chassid to his home for Shabbos.
Our Chassid was overjoyed and amazed at the mansion where his host brought him. Gate after gate of the grounds opened up before them, as they drove toward their destination, a palatial home where he would spend Shabbos in grandeur in honor of the holy day. As our Chassid delighted his hosts with divrei Torah and was plied with good food and drink, he noticed something odd; in the display case where the family’s beautiful silver was proudly on display, among the expensive silver articles was a broken flask of oil. Puzzled by this strange phenomenon but ashamed to embarrass his host with awkward questions, the Chassid held his tongue all Shabbos long, until Motzoei Shabbos. As he took his leave and thanked his host, he conspiratorially whispered the burning question, “Pray tell me why you have a broken old flask of oil among your most expensive silver.” The host answered his query with a story:
“When I was but twelve years old, my father passed away and I had no choice but to go out and seek employment to help feed and clothe my mother and siblings and support them. I was very successful and eventually grew wealthy and forgot all about my upbringing and my Jewish roots. I decided to live my life as I pleased with no second thought to Yiddishkeit. Eventually, I forgot all our traditions.
“One day, as I was going on my way, I chanced upon a young boy who stood crying bitterly. On the pavement beside him lay a broken flask of oil. ‘What is wrong, young man, and why are you crying?’ I asked in sympathy.
“As the boy told me his sad tale, he burst into fresh sobs. ‘Tonight is the first night of Chanuka and we need to light candles. My father and I are very poor and we have little money. He borrowed a few coins from our neighbor and asked me to go out and buy oil for lighting candles. He warned me sternly to make sure that I would not drop the flask or it would break and I did my best...but...but,’ his lip trembled, ‘a c-c-cat jumped out just now and fr-fr-frightened me and I dr-dr-dropped the flask and now it broke!’ And he wept in misery, crying, ‘How can I face my father without the flask of oil in hand?’”
Explained the wealthy host to the Chassid, “This simple sentence uttered by the pure child echoed in my ears with a personal retort toward me: ‘How can I face my Heavenly Father, Hashem, without the flask of oil in my hands?!’ My heart went out to the boy and I pressed a few coins into his hands. As he dried his tears I asked him to please go and purchase two new bottles of oil and to guard them well – one for himself and his father – and one for me. That night, I was a changed person, and I resolved to mend my ways. I lit the Chanuka candles as I had not done for many years. From that moment I returned to my heritage and mitzva observance, from details to stringencies. I kept the broken flask of oil as a memento to remind myself of my own personal Chanuka miracle. (Be’er HaChaim Chanuka p. 43–45)
