Relooking, Relearning: Nachash v. Tannin

Parshat Va'era            

by Rabbi Avi Billet

It is time to set the record straight. 

The undertaking of this weekly dvar torah is often driven by a desire to find new approaches to oft-repeated ideas in our understanding of the Torah.

            

By "new" I mean "not the way you've been learning it since second grade."

Rashbam (Rashi's grandson who disagreed with him on a number of interpretations) writes at the beginning of Parshat Vayeshev (37:2) (shortly before he explains how Yosef's brothers did not sell him!), that he was talking with his grandfather Rashi who told him that if he only had the time "haya tzarich" - he would "have needed" - to rewrite his commentary on account of the novel ideas which come to him on a daily basis.

            

So if Rashi would argue with Rashi, we must get out of the box that says there is only way to learn. "Shivim Panim La'Torah" (there are 70 faces to the Torah) is how we are to learn – it is not meant to be a buzzword or phrase.

            

To bring some examples in narrative: Identifying ages of people – Avraham when (if) he was thrown into a fire, and when he discovered God; Yitzchak at the Akedah; Rivkah at her marriage; Shimon and Levi (and Dinah!) in Shechem; Moshe when he kills the Egyptian; the age of every Pharaoh we meet.

            

Some narrative tales: Og and the Ark, Noach being attacked by a lion, that Yishmael tried to kill baby Yitzchak, Yitzchak becoming blind because of the angel's tears at the Akedah, every image of "malachim"/messengers of God our minds have concocted, that Eliezer's camels flew across the desert, that Rachel gave Leah signs (maybe Lavan got Yaakov drunk), that Yosef knew a language Pharaoh didn't know, that the brothers sold Yosef, that Eisav was killed at Yaakov's funeral, that Moshe had a speech impediment (because he put coal on his mouth as a baby in Pharaoh's palace!), that Moshe did not strike the water to turn it into blood, and our identification of plagues involving animals (tzfardea, kinim, arov, arbeh).  

           

Much of our knowledge is embedded in us because school teachers love to teach Midrash stories. But the "Drash" part is meant to teach lessons. A story without a lesson is a fluffing of the Torah. Raise your hand if you have been extremely disappointed when you discovered as an adult that some of the things you had been taught as gospel truth are not even in the Torah. I thought so. Time to move past it, my friend. You are no longer in 2nd grade.

            

So let us dispel a rumor here and now.

            

I dutifully accept that the "signs and wonders" that are described in the Torah happened. I marvel that in a number of instances the Egyptian necromancers "did it as well" (7:11-12; 7:22; 8:3) until 8:14 (the plague of kinim/lice) when they were unable to mirror the act, and declared the plague to be coming from the Finger of God (8:15). If they were able to do it as well (even if they were using trickery and not "real" magic) that is some incredible feat! If I were Pharaoh, I wouldn't believe Moshe and Aharon either when they morph a staff, and bring forth blood and frogs.

            

But the one thing that is unexplainable to me is how the words "Nachash" and "Tannin" became interchangeable. At the burning bush, Moshe was given a sign to convince the Israelites he was sent by God, through his staff turning into a Nachash – which we understand as a snake. He performed this for the people in 4:30, and they believed him.

            

In our parsha, the instruction is given to Aharon to throw his own staff, so that it may turn into a "Tannin" before Pharaoh. Rashi immediately explains Tannin with one word: "Nachash." (snake/serpent) Why does he do that? Or, a better question, how could he do that?

            

The first time the word Tannin appears in the Torah is in Bereshit 1:21. There, Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan translates what God created on the fifth day (Hataninim hagdolim) to mean, 

"Sea Monsters or 'whales,' or 'dragons.' Taninim in Hebrew; see Exodus 7:9. The Midrash states that it alludes to a pair of particularly great sea creatures, the Leviathan and its mate. See Isaiah 27:1, Psalms 74:14, 104:26, Job 3:8, 40:25."

It is not claimed to be a large snake - neither an anaconda or a python.

On 7:9, after translating "Tanin" as a viper, Rabbi Kaplan explains the term, 

"Tanin in Hebrew. Some say that this is the same snake (nachash) that it became at the Burning Bush (Exodus 4:3), see Exodus 7:15 (Rashi; Lekach Tov; Radak, Sherashim, s.v. tanan). Others say that by the Burning Bush, God gave Moses a sign for the Israelites, but before Pharaoh, the staff turned into a crocodile (Ibn Ezra; K'li Yekar), and that this was Aaron's staff and not Moses' (K'li Yekar, Zohar)."

The Shmot 7:15 reference is not a good proof, because Moshe is clearly being told to strike the water with his own staff there, the one which had turned to a snake (nachash).

            

Who really cares if it was a snake or a crocodile? Does it matter? Isn't it miraculous either way? Yes. But the Torah records two different animals because there were two different animals. And because each animal, in its own way, was important and significant.

            

The snake may have been to teach Moshe not to speak Lashon Hara about the Israelites over their not believing him. But the Midrash says it was also a symbol for Israel, against Pharaoh - who is compared to a snake, either as a deity, or as one who "bites" Israel - that Pharaoh, the snake, will be defeated by the staff, and he will ultimately become wood. Just as the stick does not bite, Pharaoh will no longer be able to bite. This is also symbolized in the grabbing of its tail – something no snake handler would do – you completely "own" it.

            

As for the Tannin, that was a message for Pharaoh alone. The Midrash Rabba (9:4) quoted by Chizkuni, Baal Haturim and others points to the fact that Pharaoh referred to himself as a Tannin (based on Yechezkel 29:3 – where Rabbi Kaplan translated it, "I against you Pharaoh, the great crocodile, who lurks within his rivers"), and the message was, "Just as this Matteh (staff) turns into a crocodile, consumes the other mattot (staffs), and will return to be wood again, you consume the 12 mattot (tribes) now, but you too will turn to dry wood and die."

            

So, in essence, there was a deeper message to be sent through the staff turning to a crocodile before Pharaoh, than that this is just a cool magic trick. We ought not to take the easy party line that "nachash = tannin, the staff always turns to a snake."

            

There are different staffs and different messages being sent to those who see God's wonders, each group according to their needs and their specific relationship with God. Moshe heard one message, the Israelites heard a different message, and there was one message assigned special for Pharaoh.

            

This lesson is not limited to our understanding of Torah narrative, but reflects the reality of our existence. Every event that unfolds is meant to teach something unique those who experience it, each person or group according to their needs in their lives under God's watchful eye.

How Moshe Became a "Man" - איש

Parshat Shmot

by Rabbi Avi Billet

It was the great sage Hillel who said (Avot 2:5), "In a place where there are no men, try to be a man."
במקום שאין אנשים השתדל להיות איש
The sentiment of the phrase doesn't lend itself to be reformulated to gender-neutral terminology, so I apologize in advance to those who find it offensive.

Nonetheless, I think an understated message from this phrase can help us understand the first real episode in the life of Moshe, when he controls his own destiny.

Rashi notes that in the verse when he is returned to the daughter of Pharaoh, and in the verse which follows (2:10-11) he is described as growing twice (ויגדל). First, "The boy grew," then "Moshe grew." Rashi quotes Rabbi Yehuda who explained that the first "growth stage" was to achieve his physical stature in height, while the second "growth stage" was for greatness, because Pharaoh had appointed him over his house.

         
A closer look at the text may help us understand in what way Moshe truly comes of age in his first venture outside the palace.

         
Moshe grew and went out to his brothers to see their labors. He saw an Egyptian man hitting a Hebrew man from his brethren. He looked here and there and saw there was no man. So he struck the Egyptian and hid him in sand.

         
He went out on the second day and behold two men were squabbling and he said to the wicked one, "Why do you strike your neighbor?"

         
And he (the wicked one) said, "Who made you the Man, the officer and judge over us? Will you kill me as you killed the Egyptian?" (2:11-14)

         
The Egyptian (in 2:12) is no longer a "man" and the Hebrew (according to those who say it was the same person Moshe had saved the day before) is now wicked – also not a man. (Or HaChaim points to the fact that they (in 2:13) are not even called "from his brothers" as the victim in 2:11 had been called). The Alshich rightly notes this phenomenon as he expresses Moshe's confusion: just as the Egyptian is not a man and may be worthy to lose his life, the Hebrew is not a man and will tattle. Moshe takes the risk and kills the Egyptian, and of course the other non-man does the unmanly deed of informing on Moshe.

         
If we follow the storyline of Moshe's life, we will see him soon being called a man (according to one interpretation) by the daughter's of Yitro (2:19), and by their father when he inquires as to "the man's" whereabouts. (2:20) [Incidentally, Moshe chooses to stay with "the man" – Yitro – who by every account was principled and therefore a suitable father in law.]

Towards the end of the plagues all of Egypt will see him as "the man Moshe." (11:3) The entire Israelite nation will call him a man when he does not return from Sinai (32:1,23) and of course God calls him a man when He describes him as being the humblest of men. (Bamidbar 12:3) At the end of his life not only is he a man, but he is an Ish HaElokim – a Man of God. (Devarim 33:1)

     
Even his protégé's storyline has similar hints. At first Yehoshua is a lad (Shmot 33:11). And when he is anointed to be the next leader he is a "man who has spirit in him." (Bamidbar 27:18)

         
Ramban describes his initial growth as Moshe here as "His becoming a man of knowledge" (Ish Da'at). Upon learning of his Hebrew identity, he wanted to know more about it.

         
As Malbim put it, "Moshe's righteousness began in his youth – he had all the requisite qualities to be a leader. Even though he was raised in the palace of the king, raised to view the Isrealites as lowly slaves, he still viewed their circumstance as unjust. They were his brothers. This is the exact opposite of human nature, that when individuals rise to prominence they tend to ignore their brothers – the poor and destitute."

The Ktav V'Hakaballah asks how could Moshe be a vigilante in such a way? Was the Egyptian deserving of death just for beating the Hebrew? It seems that if the Egyptian was not letting up, and might have killed the Hebrew, he'd be in the category of Rodef, a pursuer, who is attempting to kill someone. In halakha, a Rodef is classified as "ain lo damim" – he has no blood. In other words, he is already considered dead because he is no longer a man. (Midrash Aggadah)

At the same time, Malbim expresses that we should not assume Moshe did this as an act of passion and without a thought process. He did look here and there to see if there was any person – and he saw there was no man, which lowered his own risk in taking action.

       
However one looks at the story, it seems clear that a major difference lies in who is considered to be a man in the story. Some people are assumed to be men until they prove otherwise, and Moshe grows to be a man – to fulfill the dictum of Hillel with which we started.

         
Of course, this isn't really surprising, considering that Moshe's existence was brought about by a "Man from the house of Levi" who defied the immoral law of the king that condemned all boys to a rivery grave in order to father the boy who would become the deliverer.

         
Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch looked at Moshe's hesitation – the need to see there was no man around to witness his deed – and taught, "He [was] deeply imbued with a sense of duty to rush to the aid of an innocent person who is oppressed… but hotheaded reckless risking of one's life is foreign to him; he [was] far from the fiery daring that is required to lead a great multitude [ ] to freedom from the tyrant's yoke… It would not even occur to him to become the savior and leader of his people. The element of desire to become a historical hero was entirely lacking in him."

         
And yet, he managed it so finely, and became the greatest model of teacher and leader of all time. How? Because "In a place where there are no men, try to be a man." He tried very hard. It was duly noted every step of the way. And he achieved the greatest levels of "being a Man" that anyone could achieve – where first God noticed it in the form of Moshe's humility, and in the end God called him "A Man of God."

The Son and the Grandsons

Parshat Vaychi

by Rabbi Avi Billet

The opening of our parsha contains narrative that seems inconsistent.

           
"Yaakov" lives in Egypt. But the days of "Yisrael" are getting closer to his death.

           
After asking Yosef to swear that the burial will not take place in Egypt and will take place in his family burial plot, "Yisrael" bows at the head of the bed.

           
Time passes, and Yosef is told (by…?), "Your father is sick." So he takes "his two sons with him, Ephraim and Menashe."

           
Someone (who…?) tells "Yaakov," "Your son Yosef is here." So "Yisrael" strengthens himself and sits on the bed.

Then "Yaakov" speaks to Yosef – and through what he tells Yosef it almost seems as if Menashe and Ephraim are not present. In short, Yosef is informed that his two sons will be viewed as if they are the told oldest of the 12 tribes, and that through them Yosef is receiving the double portion of the first born's rights. After saying this, "Yisrael" sees Yosef's sons and puzzlingly asks, "Who are these [people]?" before he is reminded they are his grandsons and he asks to bless them. (47:29-48:9)

There are numerous theories for the switch between Yaakov and Yisrael, what each name represents, and why each might be used in the context in which it appears. Many are interesting but most have an inconsistency or a flaw (or a stretch) that makes it not worth belaboring the point.

The problems we will zero in on surround who is telling Yosef about his father, who is telling his father about his arrival, why are we told that he took "his sons" and then it specifies "Ephraim and Menashe" (talk about stating the obvious!), and what is the role of Ephraim and Menashe until Yaakov notices their presence?

The Torah tells us Yosef took them "with him" indicating their presence should have been noted from the moment Yosef showed up, not after Yaakov has already given Yosef a blessing and instructions!

           
Many commentaries (Rashi, Ibn Ezra, Radak, Pesikta, Alshich) suggest that the one who told Yosef about his father's illness, and the one who informed his father that "Yosef is here" was the same person – The "Magid." The announcer. Rashi even suggests that his identity is unimportant because sometimes the Torah leaves out unimportant details.

           
However, Rashi also raises the possibility that the announcer is Ephraim, who spent a lot of time with Saba Yaakov (see Daat Zekenim's fascinating "proof" for the Ephraim identification). And the Midrash Sechel Tov uses a similar argument to suggest that it was Menashe who made the respective announcements to Yosef and to Yaakov.

           
In this latter approach, whether it was Ephraim or Menashe seems to be irrelevant (in the big picture), because all it means is that Yosef hears the news and takes his informer along with his other son to visit Yaakov, and the informer subsequently announces Yosef's arrival – or, as Rabbi Samson Rafael Hirsch notes the terms "Vayaged (and he told)" and "Vayomer (and he said)" – in order not to shock the older man, Yaakov was first told Yosef was coming, and then informed when Yosef actually arrived.

           
The Shach suggests that when "Yisrael" bowed at the head of the bed in 47:31, he was bowing before God's Divine Presence, which stayed nearby and informed him in 48:2 that Yosef was there. Netziv puts a slight twist on this idea as he suggests Yosef had sent a message that he was not coming alone – he was to bring his sons anticipating their receiving a blessing – suggesting that his father should prepare to receive the Divine Presence.

           
The Alshich focuses on the terminology of "Acharei Hadvarim Ha'Eileh" – after these things – noting how the use of the word "Acharei" instead of "Achar" indicates that the promise to bury Yaakov in Canaan distinguished Yosef and opened the door for his sons to be blessed. Much time passed between the end of chapter 47 and the beginning of chapter 48, and the promise did not directly merit the double portion gifted through Ephraim and Menashe, but it was all related.  

           
Alshich raises the possibility that it was the same Divine Presence that accompanied Yisrael's bow in 47:31 that informed Yosef that his father was sick – in other words, Yosef intuited it through Ruach HaKodesh (a divine spirit).

           
According to the Daat Zekenim, Yosef did not regularly visit his father, to avoid having the conversation about what actually transpired that wound him up in Egypt.

           
The suggestion made by Or HaChaim can help us satisfy our conundrum. He says that on the one hand "Yosef's sons" should merit a blessing on Yosef's merit, but on the other hand, Ephraim specifically and Menashe specifically each merit a blessing on his own right.

           
While it seems that Yaakov is not paying attention to the presence of the individuals Ephraim and Menashe when they show up with their father, he is aware that "Yosef's sons" (as a unit) are present. He continues to avoid the painful conversation of the fateful day when Yosef descended to Egypt, because they are not alone, and he speaks glowingly of "Yosef's sons" as if they are in absentia – because speaking of them as "Yosef's sons" is Yosef's blessing. They are only indirectly relevant to Yosef's blessing – which goes all the way to 48:16.

           
When Yaakov looks at them and calls them over, though he blesses them together (in 48:20), he is blessing Ephraim the individual and Menashe the individual.

           
We see differences in the relationships Yaakov/Yisrael had with his son versus with his grandsons. The roles of the players here indicate the truth of the statement of Mishlei 17:6, "Children's children are the crown of the aged, and the glory of the children is their fathers."

The Beer Shava Stopover

Parshat Vayigash

by Rabbi Avi BIllet

In the Torah, the city Beer Sheva appears thus named only one time (26:33). Otherwise it is always called Beer Shava. Seforno notes the difference between the vowelization of the two names of the city, while Ibn Ezra offers that when it is called Beer Sheva it might be for two reasons (based on a swear and the number seven), or, perhaps, it is a different (though similarly named) city.

When Yaakov visits Beer Shava in our parsha, he is presented as Yisrael as he offers sacrifices to the God of his father Yitzchak. God speaks "to Yisrael" in a nighttime vision, calling him "Yaakov Yaakov" saying, "I am the God of your father. Do not fear going down to Egypt, for I will turn you into a great nation there. I will go down with you to Egypt, and I will come up with you as well, and Yosef will place his hands on your eyes."

Then "Yaakov" gets up from Beer Shava, as "Bnei Yisrael" lift Yaakov their father – along with their children on wives – onto the carriages Pharaoh had sent for them.

A few questions come to mind: What is the significance of stopping in Beer Shava? Why is Yitzchak mentioned and not Avraham? Why the switch from Yaakov to Yisrael, and back again? What are we to take from the "nighttime vision"? Who will be accompanied by God in the descent to and in the ascent from Egypt? Why the promise of Yosef putting his hand over Yaakov's eyes.

Yitzchak had two prophetic experiences in Chapter 26: in the first he is told not to descend to Egypt during a famine, as his father had done before him, and the second was in Beer Shava when God told him "I am the God of your father Avraham. Do not be afraid, for I am with you. I will bless you and make your children numerous in the merit of my servant Avraham." (26:24)

In all likelihood Yaakov went to Beer Shava on account of this latter encounter (Rashbam), hoping to be the recipient of a similar blessing, and also hoping to be told not to descend to Egypt. Nonetheless, he was encouraged to complete this trip (Sechel Tov). Alternativley, Toldos Yitzchak suggests Yaakov very much wanted to go, but feared God would tell him he could not. The promise to become a great nation in Egypt, unlike the promise his father received, was so helpful in freeing him to go.

Sacrficing to the God of Yitzchak alone may be because: a person is more obligated to honor his father than his grandfather (Rashi, Midrash); since Yitzchak suffered as well over the sale of Yosef (the crying father in 37:35 refers to Yitzchak), his suffering could serve as a merit for Yaakov's own wishes to suffer no longer (Pesikta); a lament over not honoring Yitzchak for 22 years, Yaakov did not want similar treatment when being reunited with Yosef (Meshech Chokhmah).

There are many theories as to why "Yaakov" or "Yisrael" is used. As they are going down to Egypt and need strength (Yisrael) to survive, the name Yaakov is still applicable as with that name he is sometimes defeated. They come as "Bnei Yisrael" because they will multiply in numbers and eventually be redeemed. But Yaakov the man is the one who is going descending to slavery. (Ramban)

The nighttime vision is unique to Yaakov and takes place when he is on the cusp of leaving the land (see 28:11-16). The message is that even in nighttime, in the darkness of exile, God's Shechinah dwells amongst Israel. (Meshech Chokhmah)

God promised that He'd go down with and take Yaakov out of Egypt. Yaakov did not want to become a slave. So he was told he personally wouldn't be there that long. (Or HaChaim). He received the promise that his children would not be enslaved during his lifetime either. (Sechel Tov)

Of course, Yaakov knew from the moment he purchased the birthright that exile was the price for getting the blessing promised to Avraham. Never having anticipated that the strange land was going to be Egypt, he feared for the moral decay of his family to the point they'd never be able to get out. God promised him that if necessary, He would take them out early, before it is too late. (Beis HaLevi)

The promise of going down to Egypt included different features.

The language is "I will go with you" as opposed to "I am bringing you down." (Rabbenu Bachaye) He is literally counted as the 70^th soul because the family actually totals 69. (Daat Zekenim) This is what the Kli Yakar calls a "Yeridas HaShechinah," a descent of the divine presence.

A double language is utilized to promise the ascent from Egypt: I will bring you up (your sons will bury you) and I will bring your children up (eventually) (Sechel Tov, Radak); not only will you be brought up, but all of your sons will merit burial outside of Egypt too (R Chaim Paltiel); the double language of ascent refers to to Eretz Yisrael and to the World to Come. One is a physical ascent, and one is an ascent of the soul (Rabbenu Bachaye).

The promise that Yosef would place his hands on Yaakov's eyes has different meanings.

We know from the death of Rachel (and elsewhere) that a throwaway comment in the Torah sometimes turns out to be a prophesy. Perhaps Yaakov was being promised that the comment he made when he thought Yosef was dead "that he would go down to the grave mourning for his son" (37:35) would not be fulfilled. As the Baal Haturim notes, God was showing Yaakov that Yosef would not die in Yaakov's lifetime. As Rashbam hints to (Baba Batra 108a) Yaakov was receiving a two-part blessing here: that he would outlive Yosef, and that Yosef has children who count as part of Yaakov's family of 70.

Other possibilities include: Yosef will close your eyes when you die; Yosef will take care of those upon whom you have your eye – your children and grandchildren… long after you die (Radak); "Einekha" (your eyes) means "Inyanekha" – he'll take charge of your affairs (Chizkuni); or, most practically, you won't have to keep your eye on all of your belongings when you get to Egypt, because Yosef will make sure everything gets to you (nothing will be stolen) (Seforno)

The stop in Beer Shava, therefore, is highly significant. It is meant to serve as a reflection of a spiritual encounter his father had, and it is meant to sway or counter many fears Yaakov has over being the "one" who is beginning the actual descent to the strange land promised to Avraham. Avraham's experience is not noted because Yaakov serves as his spiritual heir – and perhaps Yaakov even latches on to whatever merits his father had, as a man who suffered in his life, and as a man who never left Eretz Yisrael – a place to which Yaakov desperately wishes to one day return, whether in life or in death or through his descendants.

The promises he receives from God set a stage for the promises the people will one day remember: that we may become slaves, but there is a promise for redemption. We may fall into moral depravity, but God will not let us disappear into a murky existence from which redemption is impossible.

For us, we look to the words of the Midrash that the Final Redemption will mimic the first redemption (from Egypt) in all ways, except that the Final Redemption will not be preempted by slavery. We therefore hope that all the promises made to Yaakov in Beer Shava will one day be fulfilled again, as we experience an end to the (long) night in which Yaakov received his vision - a promise for a bright future when God will once again accompany us all up to the land He promised to our forefathers.

"Put the Money in Their Bags"

A great "Yosef" - Rabbi Joseph Grunblatt - passed away last Shabbos. His funeral took place on Sunday and the hespedim are available for viewing here. His passing is a true loss to the Jewish people. An incredible rabbi, talmid chochom, humble and magnanimous. תנצבה.

Parshat Miketz

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Book collectors often have many books on their shelves that never move from their place. But sometimes it is the thin volume you never look at that contains gems of insight and wisdom.

            

In recent years I have found this to be true of a book I purchased when I was in yeshiva. The author is Yeshayahu Moleyoff (not sure how that is spelled in English), and it is one volume on Bereshit – I don't even know if he has more – called "Meotzarot Bereshit." The book seems to be self-published.

            

He asks the following question: Why did Yosef give the money back to his brothers both times they purchased food?

            

For a very long time I thought Yosef was underhandedly doing what anyone in his position would likely do for family. "I don't need your money. Please. It's on me." Because even if Yosef didn't want to reveal himself until he had uncovered what he needed to find out about them, perhaps he did not feel the need to overburden his father financially when he (Yosef) didn't need the money, and presumably, particularly on account of the famine, his father needed every penny he had.

            

The question can be strengthened when we consider that most commentaries who address this issue focus on the "how" and not the "why." He put the money in – perhaps by displacing some food, forcing them to come back sooner. He put the money in the bottom of all bags, except for Levi's, in whose bag the money was placed on top. Levi, after all, was lost without Shimon, his partner in crime, and any feeling of fear over discovering the money would be felt by Levi first. This is by design.

            

Of course, these two approaches - to return the money graciously versus to "get them" - contradict one another, and Yeshayahu Moleyeff notes that even if Yosef had the first thought in mind (to kindly return the money he did not need) there is no way he did not anticipate the kind of reaction his brothers had: they would be fearful and feel something afoul over discovering the money they thought they had paid back in their bags.

            

He therefore suggests that Yosef was trying to deliver a subtle message to the brothers both times. First when they had lost Shimon, and when they were going to get Binyamin. And second, when Binyamin's bag was set up as the guilty one containing Yosef's cup.

            

That message was one of "Midah k'neged midah" – measure for measure.

            

They had received money over the purchase of Yosef as a slave, and they were now receiving money when Shimon was left behind as a slave and when the signs were pointing to the possibility that Binyamin might become a slave as well.

            

More poignantly, if things did not pan out well, they were all on the brink of becoming slaves themselves. They come to this recognition themselves in 43:18 and even offer themselves as slaves at the end of the parsha, when Yosef threatens to take Binyamin as a slave.

            

Midah K'neged Midah, therefore, is the running theme here. Yosef is not looking to make his brothers slaves. It is enough that he has seen them bow (in fulfillment of his dreams), that he knows the power he holds, and that they are willingly accepting his kingship over them. It is only that he wants to see how they will react when the circumstances themselves are set up all over again. When they see money being handed to them in exchange for their efforts to bring Binyamin down to Egypt. When they see money being handed to them when Binyamin is being set up to be arrested for stealing from the king.

            

In 42:21 they lamented not that they had sold Yosef – they still thought they were in the right in doing so. (This is a much longer discussion.) But they lamented how they had ignored his screams, and had dealt with him coldly.

            

In essence, Yosef set the stage as best he could to mirror what had taken place 22 years earlier. A young, innocent, son of Rachel was going to be placed in the precarious brink of becoming a slave to Egypt forever. The money has been exchanged, the boy is helpless and guilty in the eyes of those judging him, and it is up to the brothers to demonstrate compassion. To look out for their brother. To do everything within their power and then some to make sure history doesn't repeat itself.

            

This is the mark of a true baal teshuvah. When the circumstances lend themselves for the bad action to be repeated, and the former sinner chooses a different path, he is considered penitent.

            

Yosef HaTzaddik was using God's favorite form of punishment – measure for measure. And with the brothers' collective action, and Yehuda – who was most responsible for the idea of the sale – standing up to do everything in his power to defend Binyamin (in next week's parsha), we see how the brothers are ready to be reunited, and the next stage of their collective history can finally commence with the reunions that will take place when Yaakov and his greater family come down to Egypt.

p.s. We can take this thought and apply it to the Hanukkah experience as well. The Greek occupation and the influence they exerted over the people of ancient Israel could only be overcome when the Jewish people were put in touch with the conflicting ideology, coming to the conclusion that Judaism was and will always be the best thing for the Jews.

Just as Yosef remains a highlight of the Israelites' time in Egypt, the 200+ years Hasmonean dynasty is a highlight of the Jewish experience in Israel during a time of foreign occupation and the 2000 year exile that has followed since the destruction of the Temple.

           

The First Conspiracy Theory

Parshat Vayeshev

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Yosef is sent by his father to Shechem, with a few tasks. Rabbi Mordechai Breuer divided Yosef's mission: you are being sent to your brothers, see how they are, see how the sheep are, and return to me with the update.

            

Ironically, as his brothers are no longer in Shechem only the first is partially achieved, and Yosef never returns after he is sold to Egypt. Malbim and Rashbam credit Yosef for seeking them beyond Shechem – above the call of duty – because shepherds tend to wander. Yaakov had made Yosef a "shaliach l'dvar mitzvah" – an agent for fulfilling a mitzvah – which would protect him in both directions.

Or Hachaim and Beit Halevi note that once he went to Dotan he was no longer under the protection of his father's command, and that is where the story turned sour for him.

            

Rabbi Breuer suggests that Shechem was not on the same crossroad that would have allowed the brothers to see the traveling caravans, so their location shift was not accidental, as it meant to set the stage for the national sojourn to Egypt to begin.

            

After arriving in Shechem, Yosef is found by a "man" who notices him lost in a field. The man tells him he heard the brothers saying "We shall go to Dotan." Most people assume that Dotan is a geographical location a short distance from Shechem (see Rashbam 37:17). But Rashi (37:17) raises the possibility, using a play on words, that they went "to seek against you [Yosef] conspiracies of legal pretexts" through which they can put you to death. In other words, as Rabbi Yoel Bin Nun argues, Yosef's perspective may eventually become that this was all a setup – a conspiracy against him.

            

What is the significance of Shechem, Dotan, the field and the 'man' who finds him?

Many commentaries note that Shechem is a place set aside for difficult stories: Dinah, sale of Yosef, the splitting of the kingdoms of Israel, and a place of murderers (see Hoshea 6:9). If so, Yaakov sending Yosef there would seem to be a sample of poor judgment.

            

Whether Yaakov thought out all the details is questionable. The Pesikta argues that for many years his calling Yosef, who said "Hineni" – "I am here, ready to take your mission upon myself," weighed very heavily on Yaakov, who felt responsible for Yosef's fate.

There are different possibilities for why the brothers were in Shechem. Maybe for a macho reason – they wanted to prove their independence and that they had no fear of repercussions from the massacre (Radak). Or they were following the journey of Avraham – which caused Yaakov to believe they had feelings of love for one another, as did their great grandfather Avraham (Shakh). Or they had put themselves in a situation to avoid their father sending Yosef – after all, it was a dangerous place (Malbim). On the other hand, if Yaakov did send Yosef to join them, Yosef's death could surely be attributed to or blamed on any of the locals who had it in for Yaakov's family, especially a simple target traveling alone.

            

Yaakov sent Yosef to them for different possible reasons as well. The Hadar Zekenim anthology posits that Yaakov mulled over the "Safek" (doubt) he had as to whether the brothers might harm Yosef, versus the "Vadai" (surety) that the people of Shechem (or their inheritors) will kill all of them if they are found there (see Targum Yonatan). Better to take the Safek, that something may or may not happen to Yosef, over the Vadai, that all of his shepherding sons will be killed. Radak opines, though, that on the one hand "Yisrael" (the name of innocence used to give Yosef the task) was completely unaware of the feelings the brothers had for Yosef (Alshikh), while on the other hands, he may have been aware but took Yosef's innocence regarding his brothers to mean the brothers had no ill feelings (Malbim).

            

Another line of thinking is that Yaakov or Yosef were aware that on this day the journey to Egypt would begin (Yonatan). The question was which family member would go down first?

            

The underlying theme of God's mighty hand assuring all goes according to the plan as promised to Avraham is not missed by Radak. Even the fact that Yisrael sent Yosef from "Emek Chevron" is enough of a hint to this idea. Chevron, after all, is on a mountain. An Emek is a valley – lending it to be interpreted metaphorically, as the "emek" – depth of Chevron, the city that sounds like "Chaver" – friend. This promise was made to the "Chaver" of Chevron (Avraham), buried in the depths – that his children will be strangers in a strange land. (Shakh) [Though Bal Haturim suggest the word Emek numerically equals 210, adding to the allure of the connection between the Emek and the 210 year exile to Egypt.]

            

We are told Yosef is "Toeh" in the field. The spelling does not mean "making errors" (טועה) and it is likely that the word means "Lost." The word Basadeh (as opposed to "B'sadeh") refers to a specific field, as opposed to a random field.

            

What was he lost about? And what specific field is this referring to?

Kli Yakar quotes the Midrash that he was "mistaken" regarding the field. He should have been aware of Kayin and Hevel and what happened when brothers who have an altercation meet in the field.

            

The Alshikh also says he was mistaken regarding the field, but about the meaning of the field in his dream. To Yosef, the dream about the bundles was saying, "I will go to the fields where they are and they'll bow to me. Will they be able to cancel out what God has told me will happen?"

So the "man"/angel was there to remove the "Toeh" from his heart – that he shouldn't believe in his dream [at this point]. Even if it is true, you can't take away their choice – and they will not choose to bow to you. If all you're going to do is incite jealousy, they will not respond positively, and your dream will never come true.

Had the angel not come, Yosef would have stayed with his pride against them, and they would have killed him.

            

There are plenty of indications that the brothers were not all lovey as Yosef may have assumed or liked to believe. Whether it is the extra Yud in Dotayna (they were ten brothers united, minus the sons of Rachel), or the message to Yosef that they had traveled from "Zeh" (ויסעו מזה) (Zeh = 12, literally "this" but they have moved from the unity of being twelve brothers – you are out), the Alshikh argues Yosef was a goner before he even shows up. This is why Malbim claims Yaakov's sending him to them (when they felt that way) nonetheless was criminal enough that Yaakov was worthy to be sent down to Egypt in chains. Sending Yosef down first was done for Yaakov's honor so that he came to Egypt royally.

            

The overall picture of this scene leads us to appreciate the depth of the tale – much more than just a string of coincidences. Or a family-made conspiracy theory. This was all part of a divine plan, to send the nation to Egypt, with Yosef paving the way, filling the promise made to Avraham that his children will be strangers in a strange land. 

New View of Eisav's 400 Men

The Torah Temimah has the following comment:

The Medrash says that when Eisav was pursuing Yaakov with 400 men, he went and consulted with the customs collectors of Egypt… He took the tax responsibilities of Egypt and passed them on to Yaakov. This is difficult. How does it explain the 400 men? And why specifically from Egypt? Look at the insights of Rada"l… But the truth seems to be that the explanation for "customs collectors" is that Eisav sought permission to be a tax collector. And this hints to the idea that he sought permission specifically from Egypt because they were the ones to be enslaving Yaakov's family for 400 years – this is the reason for his having "400 men."
וע' במ"ר כאן על הפסוק וארבע מאות איש עמו, הלך ונטל [עשו] אגרומי ממצרים, ועמלו מאוד המפרשים בבאור זה, ופירשו שלקח מכס שנוטלין במצרים להטילן על יעקב, וכמה קשה באור זה, וגם מה זה הסבר על ד' מאות איש, ולמה דוקא ממצרים, ועיין בהגהות הרד"ל, אבל האמת נראה, כי הפי' אגרומי הוא רשות להיות מוכס, ורומז שלקח רשות ממצרים שעליהם הובטח לשעבד ביעקב ד' מאות שנה, וזהו הרמז מד' מאות איש:

And so I offer this new perspective. 

There are many possibilities as to what Eisav's intentions were when bringing 400 men. They boil down to greeting Yaakov with honors, coming to fight, and just that Eisav doesn't travel alone.

This Midrashic perspective, however, sheds an entirely different light. Perhaps Eisav, after having gone to Egypt and having learned about what was going on there, came to the realization that the exile promised to Avraham would be taking place there. And Eisav wanted no part of it.

So, when Eisav approaches Yaakov with 400 men, he is essentially saying, "I know you wanted the birthright and to be the spiritual heir of our father and grandfather. ENJOY IT! I don't want to be exiled to Egypt, I don't want 400 years away from my home. And I am bringing 400 men with me to indicate, without necessarily articulating this directly, that I am happy with the version of 400 I have (strong men)."

Therefore there never was a threat. The magnitude of the numbers accompanying Eisav was mostly for show - to indicate Eisav was happy to be a tax collector and to return to his land - not to be the ancestor of a slave people who would experience 400 years of exile, but as leader of a band of 400 men who would serve him honorably and symbolically as he pursued his own destiny, apart from his slavery-bound brother and his family.

Of Faith (and Animals)

Parshat Vayishlach

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Yaakov is on his return journey, homeward bound for the first time in either 22 or 36 years. His mother is dead (though he does not yet know that), and he is unsure of his status with his brother. Has he been forgiven?

            

He sends one group of messengers to Eisav with a warm greeting, "I've been away for awhile. I have made a decent living. I'm coming home – I hope I've found favor in your eyes."

            

The response is that Eisav is approaching with 400 men. (See also here on the number 400)

            

Not knowing his intent, Yaakov sends an appeasement gift to Eisav, which includes "200 she-goats, 20 he-goats, 200 female sheep and 20 rams." (32:15)

            

There were other animals as well, such as the 30 nursing camels who were either accompanied by their children (1 each) or by their male counterparts (many commentaries address the strange terminology in the verse), as well as 40 cows to 10 bulls, 20 she-donkeys and 10 he-donkeys.

            

The verse about the she-goats etc is unique, according to Rabbi Meir of Rothenberg (Maharam), because it is one of only two verses in the entire Torah in which all of the words end with a Final Mem.

            

The other verse is in Parshat Pinchas, Bamidbar 29:33, which describes a portion of the sacrifices of the 7^th day of Sukkot.

            

Maharam explains the parallel between these two unique verses.

            

God had promised Yaakov not to fear Eisav nor any other human being. By sending this gift to Eisav, he is demonstrating a lack of faith in God to the tune of 550 animals. This waste of animals is going to be the source for a payment Yaakov's descendants will have to make yearly to demonstrate their own faith in God.

The verse in Bamidbar is right before the obligations of Shmini Atzeret, so the korbanot of Shmini Atzeret do not count in the "payment."

How are there 550 korbanot? 2 for every Shabbos (52) is 104 animals. 11 for every Rosh Chodesh (12) is 132 animals. The animals for all of the holidays not including Shmini Atzeret account for the remaining 314 of the 550.

There is another approach to counting the animals. There are 2 animal sacrifices every day of the year (which they count as 360 days based on 12 months of 30 days each) equaling 720 animals. The korbanot of Rosh Chodesh and the holidays add up to 440. All together there are 1160 communal sacrifices.

Add up all the animals Yaakov sent – including the interpretation that there were in fact 60 camels – the nursing mothers and either their sons or their mates – and you have 580 animals. Double that number and you have 1160.

And so, according to the Maharam, Yaakov's punishment for his lack of faith gesture of offering Eisav 580 animals was that his descendants had to pay double that as offerings to God on a yearly basis.

As Rabbi Ephraim Buchwald of the National Jewish Outreach Program (NJOP) famously explained in his Crash Course in Basic Judaism, the tenet of Belief is a little different than Knowledge. When a person knows something, there is no doubt in one's mind. There is a fact, it can be proven, demonstrated, etc.

But "Belief" in its very nature carries with it a snippet of doubt. I believe this very much. But… I might be wrong. I can't prove it.

One can argue Yaakov had no excuse. He was a prophet. God communicated directly to him. God told him everything would be alright. While we certainly teach that one should not rely on a miracle, and one should make one's efforts, but Yaakov's approach seemed to disregard a direct promise. Some even interpret his fight with the angel as meaning to remind him that he is not supposed to even prepare to run from Eisav because everything will be alright. Either his wound prevents him from fleeing, or his victory over an angel demonstrates that he can certainly defeat Eisav.

We, on the other hand, don't have the luxury of God speaking to us in dreams and making promises. The promises were made a long time ago, and we are certainly left with a choice. We can abandon everything and say it's all nonsense.

Or we can claim our faith, declare our beliefs, and recognize that while we all have difficult moments and may even question why we do what we do, we can always fall back on the notion that we are the descendants of Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov, who knew what they knew and lived the way they lived, so their descendants could one day experience Revelation and receive the Torah at Sinai.

And, of course, we believe the promises for the future have yet to be fulfilled – but will be fulfilled!

In the scheme of things, maybe our People got off easy with the punishment for Yaakov's lapse of faith. Double the amount of animals he wasted on Eisav as payment to God in the Temple.

Can we afford the punishment for the lack of faith and belief that is so prevalent today? Can the blogging Apikores, and the self-hating Jews, and the online slanderers continue to only bring our People down?

Of course they can. That is what they are best at doing.

But the two Final-Mem verses remind us that events from long ago can have an impact on future generations, if all we do is exhibit a lack of faith in God.

May we be blessed to seek God in our lives, and to find and see God in as many life experiences as He makes Himself apparent. 

Not Responsible for "Lies"

Parshat Vayetze

by Rabbi Avi Billet

The first Pirates of the Caribbean film spent a few moments discussing the "honesty" of pirates. The lead character cheats in a duel and is this accused, "You cheated!" He responds, "Pirate!" as if to say, "I don't follow conventional rules."

            

One of the more memorable moments is when the female protagonist demands, in exchange for a precious medallion, that the pirates who are currently attacking Port Royal "leave and never come back."

When they agree, they begin to set sail with her on board, leading her to exclaim, "Wait! You have to take me to shore." And she is told, "Your return to shore was not part of our negotiations nor our agreement so I must do nothing…"

            

The way of the sneaky and tricky is to make deals using vague language and to deny responsibility for any wrongdoing, when the honest person gets burned.

            

Consider Lavan's approach to Yaakov when Yaakov seeks to marry Rachel. Yaakov tells Lavan, "I will work for you for seven years [to marry] Rachel your younger daughter." (29:18). Lavan's response is, "It's better for me to give her to you than to another man, so stay with me."

            

He never said, "After seven years of working, I promise you will marry Rachel." And so, sure enough, after seven years, Lavan gives Leah to Yaakov.

            

When Yaakov asks why he's been tricked, Lavan explains, "That's not the way it is done in our place – to give the younger one before the older one [is married]. Finish the 7 day (celebration), and we will give you the other daughter in exchange for the work you'll do for 7 more years."

            

The terms "our place" and "we will give" are striking – almost funny when you know who we're dealing with. Rachel is Lavan's daughter, and yet he pins all the rules on whether she may marry on everyone else's consent. "The people" won't allow such a wedding. "The people" will give Rachel away. It's not Lavan's fault. His hands are tied.

            

Ramban claims this is the way of Lavan – to deny all responsibility. He is honest. He is pure. He keeps his word. He meant what he said and he said what he meant. 100 per cent.

            

We live in a world in which there are very few people who fulfill and keep what was once called a "gentleman's agreement." If two honest people make a deal – in which they both know exactly what they're talking about – and they shake on it, they both have to keep their respective ends of the deal.

Nowadays, however, contract writers fill up pages and pages of legal jargon to make sure that every "i" is dotted, every "t" crossed, and there are no loopholes in the language that can be misunderstood or misinterpreted. And of course, they want to cover themselves from legal action. How many people really read all the "Terms of agreement" when signing up for something on a website, or all the fine print in contracts?

Most people don't have the time or don't understand all the language.

And the same is true for politicians – who don't read bills before they sign them.

The Lavan story teaches us that there are people who may smile and may come across as "nice guys" who will stab you in the back and tell you they're giving you a massage. They'll say things that sound nice. But when judgment day comes, they'll be able to say, "I never promised. And even if it sounded like I was promising – I wasn't. And besides, you should know that my promise is meaningless."

Like Lavan, they deny responsibility, they blame everyone else for the havoc they wreak and the misery they cause – whether to individuals, groups, or an entire nation.

No one likes to admit having been wrong. Most people want to be liked and respected and admired.

But if a person uses the same tactics as Lavan, whether a family member, a co-worker, a boss, or a President, we now understand the type.

A wholesome person is honest, keeps his or her word, doesn't pull the wool over others' eyes.

And when a person deliberately lies over and over, and ultimately denies responsibility, or tries to spin reality to fit an agenda, it is the responsibility of all honest people to call him on it and effect the kind of change that is best for everyone.

  

"Stolen" Blessings

Parshat Toldot

by Rabbi Avi Billet 

            

My best teachers taught that when a question bothers you, seek from everywhere you can until you find a satisfactory answer. This is one of the reasons why I have found real Chumash questions to be much better answered when learning what all the commentaries say, versus through just reading Rashi or Ramban. One of my rebbeim used to mock the idea that there could be a class on "Ramban Al HaTorah." As if to suggest that one commentary is the end-all in studying Chumash.

            

Please don't misunderstand. Every commentary has an approach, and every commentary can only write so much. This is more of a reminder to look beyond a small circle of learning and try to glean the full picture. And perhaps even come up with a novel interpretation – a chiddush!

            

An objective observer can't help feeling sorry for Eisav, standing and then perhaps falling to his knees before his father after being informed that his brother Yaakov has already come and taken the coveted blessings of the firstborn.

            

It's a sad, almost pathetic scene, in which a grown man, age 63, is weeping before his 123 year old father, screaming, crying, throwing the biggest fit, before resorting to threats to kill his brother when the old man dies.

            

Was Yaakov a thief and therefore in the wrong? Was Eisav wronged? Or, perhaps, are we going about this the wrong way? (Disclaimer: Ramban disagrees with most of what follows!)

            

The Hadar Zekeinim anthology notes that the way the Torah is transcribed makes the events seem consecutive, as opposed to simultaneous. In fact, at the same time that Yitzchak was lamenting his own flaws, trying to figure out how he could be duped into blessing his younger son, Eisav was thinking aloud, saying, "He took my birthright."

"Who took your birthright?" Yitzchak asked. Eisav answered, telling the story. Yitzchak now understood, and admitted that things panned out the way they were supposed to on account of that transaction from the beginning of the parsha, which until that moment had been unknown to him. And so he confirmed it, saying, "He too should be blessed."

That added line serves to support the notion that even without "tricking" his father, Yaakov was destined to receive those blessings (Rashi quoting Midrash), which Yitzchak upholds for a few reasons: because he's my son; because I said that whoever curses him is cursed and whoever blesses him is blessed; because he still had the taste of the food in his mouth, (or perhaps a piece of meat loosened from between his teeth). How inappropriate is it to curse someone while you are still enjoying the food they gave you? (Rabbi Chaim Paltiel)

[Perhaps that is a hint to Eisav not to curse Yaakov… a hint which goes right over his head.]

Taking Toldot Yitzchak's explanation of Eisav's complaint one could suggest Yitzchak felt vindicated on account of his unknowingly (or knowingly?) naming his younger son Yaakov instead of "Akev" (for holding Eisav's heel at birth). "Yaakov" was essentially given prophetically, because it is a future tense word, indicating he will one day pull a roundabout move on his brother.

Rashbam suggests Yitzchak realized the whole affair was Rivkah's idea, on account of her knowing that Yaakov was the more worthy to receive the blessings.

            

Yitzchak even explains to Eisav, "I gave him the blessing before you arrived" indicating that it was heaven's decree that you should be delayed just long enough. Remember – it was just as Yaakov was leaving that Eisav walked in – really split second timing. (Midrash Sechel Tov and Radak))

            

Radak even paints Yitzchak as an accessory to the plot when he explains Yitzchak's trembling not as a fearful regret, but as a show for Eisav, an indication that he was upset, so Eisav would not perceive that his father was really in on the plot.

            

Kli Yakar examines the whole story noting that it is only Eisav who accuses Yaakov of stealing. (Yitzchak calls it "cunning.") However did he not sell it willingly? How is Eisav's moment of weakness denigration of the birthright Yaakov's fault?

            

Eisav was suggesting that the taking of the birthright was connected directly to this. When Yaakov was asked "Who are you?" He never could have "I am Eisav your firstborn" had he not made the purchase. He must have really said, "I am in the place of your firstborn Eisav, for I purchased the birthright from him," and without that purchase, he never would have tried to take the blessings.

            

Eisav further thought, "Maybe when he bought the birthright his intent was to steal the blessings."

            

Eisav is therefore blaming Yaakov, suggesting that the birthright sale was a "Mekach Taus" a transaction made with faulty information. Eisav had originally thought it was purely a financial windfall – getting the double portion. Eisav thought at the time that his father might die penniless, so he sold the birthright for little money, thinking it was better to cash in at that time, not realizing that the birthright also included blessings!

            

Yaakov said "I am Eisav your firstborn?" instead of just, "I am Eisav" because it is only on account of the birthright that these blessings were coming to him – and that is why he was able to take them.

            

The trickery is that he took the birthright in the first place, because I had no idea that these blessings were for the birthright holder, and not for the natural first born.

            

Ktav V'Hakabalah blames Eisav for accusing Yaakov of "taking" the birthright, when the truth was that they had a legitimate transaction. It was his own fault for denigrating and essentially making the birthright worthless, leaving it open for Yaakov to claim as his own.

            

Some view this as rewriting history, and some say, "Look at the whole picture." Far be it from us to lay the blame squarely on Yaakov, or even Rivkah, who sets him up, when Eisav was as much to blame for all that transpired the moment he indicated the birthright meant nothing to him.