Parshat Va'era
by Rabbi Avi Billet
The first Aliyah (section) of the Torah portion concludes with a superfluous statement, an extra sentiment that has already been expressed a few times: God [then] spoke to [both] Moses and Aaron. He gave them instructions regarding the Israelites and Pharaoh, king of Egypt, to take the Israelites out of Egypt. (6:13)
On the most simplistic level, they already convinced the people they were the real deal, sent by God Himself (4:31), and Pharaoh was also aware that Moshe and Aharon were representing the Israelites in a mission to leave, even as Pharaoh denied God and subverted their attempt at achieving independence for the Israelites through denying clemency and increasing the labor requirements.
And so our verse is odd, because Moshe and Aharon have already begun this process, even if, as God said in 3:19-20, it may take awhile for them to achieve their goals. Which is OK! Just as Rome wasn’t built in a day, you don’t create an exodus movement overnight.
In this light, how can we understand the instructions given to Moshe and Aharon in 6:13?
The first thing we need to understand is context. Yes, the people believed at the end of chapter 4, but that doesn’t mean that a few verses later they can’t be livid at Moshe for causing the workload to be expanded. Pharaoh may have accepted that Moshe was the leader, but he thought nothing of it because he knew Moshe was powerless against him.
So what is the commandment to Moshe? It’s to take your failure to heart, but not to lose heart. To grow from your experience, and to try again.
Consider some of the commentaries on this verse:
Ibn Ezra - Moshe was instructed not to lose his temper against the Israelites, who themselves were short of breath (and perhaps impertinent)
Rabbenu Bachaye - Moshe had to warn the people to no longer follow the idols they worshipped. The word “v’y’tzavem” (and He commanded them) is often used in this form to indicate a command against idolatry.
Rabbi Eliyahu Mizrachi - Quoting the Midrash, he distinguishes between the two missives: Be kind and patient with the Israelites, and be respectful to Pharaoh as he is a king. Even if Pharaoh gets angry at you, take it. Don’t let it get to you. Let the Israelites know again that you are taking them out, and warn Pharaoh about the benefit he ought to consider which will come from sending them out, namely not suffering through the punishment God will otherwise send.
Beyond the subliminal messages about how to relate to the people, with kindness and patience, as well as the religious message about idolatry, I think the two lessons Moshe took here are very important too.
Growth from failure has no comparable learning curve. The adage of “never make the same mistake twice” only works when the mistake is so devastating and life changing that a person will take every precaution and learn every skill necessary to avoid that terrible feeling again.
For Moshe, it works. After the plague of blood, the Israelites don’t complain to him in Egypt anymore, certainly not about his role as leader. And the Egyptians clearly see Moshe as in the driver’s seat, as most of their complaints are directed at Pharaoh for letting the plagues go on. Moshe has clearly taken his initial failure to heart and changed his entire approach to both the Israelite population and the king of Egypt.
The second lesson, quite related to the first, is that when someone tries to put you down, take it and grow from it. Make yourself stronger on account of it. That person is inconsequential. Those who put you down are not worthy of your presence or attention.
These are great lessons for the regular population. But what about people in positions of power? It certainly is disturbing to see insults flying in the higher echelons of our nation. It would be nice to see insults toned down, so that conversations can be geared toward a basic kind of respect that well-meaning people should accord one another.
On a more relevant level, the more I engage in social media, the more I see how life-sucking it can be, not just because of the wasted time, but because of the heated rhetoric that comes from both sides of the aisle.
Disagreement is one thing, but basic decency and respect should be paramount in any kind of discussion. Unfortunately today, very often there is no discussion. Just name calling, bashing, "defriending," to the point that we hear our own echo chambers and view the other side as an equivalent of human refuse.
All of this is very disheartening.
Pharaoh was a king and needed to be treated with respect. Moshe was granted an audience with Pharaoh, even though we can safely say Pharaoh loathed the Jewish leader. There is no excuse for slavery, so we root for Moshe and view Pharaoh as the evil dictator. But if Pharaoh had reasoned and said, “You know what? I’ll remove the taskmasters and pay a decent wage. But I really need you to stay in Egypt!” do you think the presence in Egypt would have ended when it did? Or might it have gone the distance of the complete 400 years that had been promised to Avraham?
I vote it would have lasted 400 years and that the 3-day journey Moshe requested would have been that: 3 days, with a return to a kinder Egypt for the remaining years of exile.
Pharaoh’s stubbornness brought his demise. Will our continued stubbornness in the political discourse bring about ours?
Tuesday, January 24, 2017
Wednesday, January 18, 2017
Moshe, and MLK's Panorama of History
Parshat Shmot
by Rabbi Avi Billet
This past Monday I followed through with a little custom I’ve undertaken to listen to a speech of Martin Luther King, Jr. on the day this country has dedicated to him based loosely on his birthday, and in listening to his “I’ve Been to the Mountaintop” speech I heard him say this: “If I were standing at the beginning of time, with the possibility of taking a kind of general and panoramic view of the whole of human history up to now, and the Almighty said to me, ‘Martin Luther King, which age would you like to live in?’ I would take my mental flight by Egypt and I would watch God's children in their magnificent trek from the dark dungeons of Egypt through, or rather across the Red Sea, through the wilderness on toward the promised land. And in spite of its magnificence, I wouldn't stop there.”
The significance of the timing of hearing this as we, in our communities, are embarking on our own journey through the book of Shmot, is coincidental, but should not be overlooked.
King was talking about the incredible efforts he had seen in his own time of fighting against injustice and in doing so in such a way that was so transformational to the United States of America. When we look at some of the protests going on today, in some cases with violence and destruction of property, and in some cases the verbal and written demonization of what should be a celebrated democratic process that led, in this round, to the election of a presidential candidate who is a far cry from being a perfect human being, who happens to not be the candidate supported by those who are crying and demonstrating against his now presidency (their candidate is also a far cry from being a perfect human being), we see how much has changed since the eloquence of King’s words was meant to teach a nation of how you make your point and how you move towards justice. [Saying a democratic election in the United States is unjust because you don’t like the results is callow and immature.]
For me personally, I would have to agree with King that the Exodus is not the time period when I would like to live. But as a Jew, my own wish is to experience Judaism in its ideal form, with a Temple on the Temple Mount. This is not a call for “change in the status quo” today – we’ll leave such an objective to God Himself. But were I to take that panoramic view through history with the opportunity to settle anywhere on the timeline, that is where I’d like to go.
And the truth is, this was really the dream of our Master Teacher, Moshe Rabbenu. Yalkut Shimoni (Devarim 823) says “Moshe wanted to see the Temple, and God showed it to him, as it says [amongst the things in the land that God showed him] ‘and the Gilaad…’” Gilaad is a reference to the Temple.
In his commentary on Bamidbar 20, Or haChaim notes the known viewpoint that had Moshe entered the land and built the Temple, there would be no second thought against enacting God’s wrath agains the Jewish people when they sinned. God saw what the Israelites might do in the future, and so God had the thought process of “If Moshe enters the land and builds the Temple, and God has cause to pour out His wrath against the Jews for their behavior, He will pour it out against them instead of against their Temple which Moshe will have built. Should this come to pass, the Israelite nation will be wiped off the map. God therefore chose to prevent Moshe from having this distinction, preferring for His wrath to go against a building rather than His children.
The idea that Moshe will not get to go into the Land is hinted to in the last comment of Rashi on the parsha, in quoting a Talmudic passage from Sanhedrin, that “Now you will see what I will do to Egypt” implies, “But you will not see what I do to the nations of Canaan because you will not enter the land.”
Moshe's destiny was to live in his specific time. Our destiny is to live in our time. But in the hypothetical world of possibility opened before us by MLK, we are left to ask, what period of time would we like to be in? As human beings – is this time and place in history the time we are meant to be in, and therefore we should embrace it, even if there are challenges? How about those who don’t like election results?
And for us, as Jews, what time would we like to be in? King said, “I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the Promised Land.”
That was the conclusion Moshe came to at the end of his life. I’ll have to be satisfied with the life I was given. And get as close to God as I can in the one shot that I get.
But if we believe in a promise for the future that might perhaps give us an opportunity for a different kind of Jewish experience, what are we doing to help us get there? What will our own personal “Promised Land” be?
May we merit to get there in our lifetimes.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
This past Monday I followed through with a little custom I’ve undertaken to listen to a speech of Martin Luther King, Jr. on the day this country has dedicated to him based loosely on his birthday, and in listening to his “I’ve Been to the Mountaintop” speech I heard him say this: “If I were standing at the beginning of time, with the possibility of taking a kind of general and panoramic view of the whole of human history up to now, and the Almighty said to me, ‘Martin Luther King, which age would you like to live in?’ I would take my mental flight by Egypt and I would watch God's children in their magnificent trek from the dark dungeons of Egypt through, or rather across the Red Sea, through the wilderness on toward the promised land. And in spite of its magnificence, I wouldn't stop there.”
The significance of the timing of hearing this as we, in our communities, are embarking on our own journey through the book of Shmot, is coincidental, but should not be overlooked.
King was talking about the incredible efforts he had seen in his own time of fighting against injustice and in doing so in such a way that was so transformational to the United States of America. When we look at some of the protests going on today, in some cases with violence and destruction of property, and in some cases the verbal and written demonization of what should be a celebrated democratic process that led, in this round, to the election of a presidential candidate who is a far cry from being a perfect human being, who happens to not be the candidate supported by those who are crying and demonstrating against his now presidency (their candidate is also a far cry from being a perfect human being), we see how much has changed since the eloquence of King’s words was meant to teach a nation of how you make your point and how you move towards justice. [Saying a democratic election in the United States is unjust because you don’t like the results is callow and immature.]
For me personally, I would have to agree with King that the Exodus is not the time period when I would like to live. But as a Jew, my own wish is to experience Judaism in its ideal form, with a Temple on the Temple Mount. This is not a call for “change in the status quo” today – we’ll leave such an objective to God Himself. But were I to take that panoramic view through history with the opportunity to settle anywhere on the timeline, that is where I’d like to go.
And the truth is, this was really the dream of our Master Teacher, Moshe Rabbenu. Yalkut Shimoni (Devarim 823) says “Moshe wanted to see the Temple, and God showed it to him, as it says [amongst the things in the land that God showed him] ‘and the Gilaad…’” Gilaad is a reference to the Temple.
In his commentary on Bamidbar 20, Or haChaim notes the known viewpoint that had Moshe entered the land and built the Temple, there would be no second thought against enacting God’s wrath agains the Jewish people when they sinned. God saw what the Israelites might do in the future, and so God had the thought process of “If Moshe enters the land and builds the Temple, and God has cause to pour out His wrath against the Jews for their behavior, He will pour it out against them instead of against their Temple which Moshe will have built. Should this come to pass, the Israelite nation will be wiped off the map. God therefore chose to prevent Moshe from having this distinction, preferring for His wrath to go against a building rather than His children.
The idea that Moshe will not get to go into the Land is hinted to in the last comment of Rashi on the parsha, in quoting a Talmudic passage from Sanhedrin, that “Now you will see what I will do to Egypt” implies, “But you will not see what I do to the nations of Canaan because you will not enter the land.”
Moshe's destiny was to live in his specific time. Our destiny is to live in our time. But in the hypothetical world of possibility opened before us by MLK, we are left to ask, what period of time would we like to be in? As human beings – is this time and place in history the time we are meant to be in, and therefore we should embrace it, even if there are challenges? How about those who don’t like election results?
And for us, as Jews, what time would we like to be in? King said, “I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the Promised Land.”
That was the conclusion Moshe came to at the end of his life. I’ll have to be satisfied with the life I was given. And get as close to God as I can in the one shot that I get.
But if we believe in a promise for the future that might perhaps give us an opportunity for a different kind of Jewish experience, what are we doing to help us get there? What will our own personal “Promised Land” be?
May we merit to get there in our lifetimes.
Monday, January 16, 2017
Grandparents' Intuitive Knowledge of How to Relate to Their Grandchildren
Parshat Vaychi
by Rabbi Avi Billet
When Yisrael has his grandsons, Ephraim and Menashe, presented to him, the older grandson (both are in their twenties) is placed on his right side, while the younger is placed on his left.
As Yisrael is in a bed, we can imagine that each young man is on a different side of the bed.
Going against the natural setup, the Torah tells us that Yisrael put his right hand on Ephraim, who was to his left, and his left hand on Menashe, “He deliberately crossed his hands, even though Menashe was the firstborn.” (48:14)
Having performed this scene dozens of times (in acting out the parsha) with children while I was sitting in a chair (which is presumably not as wide as a bed), I can attest that the logistical placement of the hands is not only extremely awkward and uncomfortable, not to mention very difficult to accomplish without saying to the persons, “Come closer as I can’t reach,” but it is also VERY noticeable. The idea that Yosef did not notice until after verses 48:15-16 had transpired is very difficult to accept! And why didn’t Yisrael just ask the boys to switch sides?
Kli Yakar asks this question in a slightly different way, “Why didn’t Yosef stop his father before he gave the blessing?” The first answer he gives is that perhaps Yosef thought the left was more important, and that Menashe was being given a blessing of intelligence, reflective of the heart (in those days thought to be the source of wisdom) – which is on the left side. This is also hinted to in the word “sikel” et Yadav – the word “sikel” (switched) describing the move he did with his hands, is spelled the same as the word “sekhel” (intelligence) [both are שכל]. In this light, Yosef was expecting his father to give two separate blessings to his sons, with Ephraim getting a blessing of the physical world (gashmiyut), reflective of the liver, which is on the right side of the body, which was viewed as the source of physical desires. Only after seeing that his father gave the boys one shared blessing did he intervene to say this was incorrect.
Another view Kli Yakar shares is that Yosef surely had seen his father switch his hands around, but he assumed that his father thought Yosef had brought the first-born on his own (Yosef’s) right side, and the younger son on Yosef’s left, which is why his father switched the hands. When Yosef realized that Yaakov was finished with the blessing and that the proper hands were on the incorrect heads, he told his father to take a mulligan and give the blessing over as Yosef had presented the young men in the way they should have come to Yisrael – with Menashe at his grandfather’s right, and Ephraim at his grandfather’s left. But Yisrael explained that he knew exactly what was going on, and it was deliberate. Perhaps in this sense, “Sikel” means he used his own intelligence to give the blessings he wanted without asking the boys to switch sides – which would have been embarrassing to all.
Jumping on this idea of not embarrassing anyone through asking them to move, Malbim indicates that the word Sikel comes from the word Hiskil – he demonstrated that he knew Menashe was older by putting his left arm above the right arm in his switch-move, so that even though Ephraim gets the right hand, Menashe’s first-born status is indicated through Yisrael’s higher hand being on Menashe. As the Torah depicts it, he put his right hand first on Ephraim, which would necessitate him to put his left hand on Menashe, which could be more easily accomplished through having the left arm go over the right arm. The “Sekhel” demonstrated here becomes a logistical one, in realizing that the only way the left arm would be above the right arm is if he puts the right arm on the younger son first, instead of putting the hand he intended to put on the older one, his left arm, onto the older son first (read that again!).
The logistics of the matter still bother me, as Yisrael at age 147 could not have had an easy time doing this. But what do I know? When there’s a will, sometimes there’s a way. I’ve seen grandparents who can’t pick themselves up from the floor get down on the floor to play with their grandchildren.
And I know from personal experience that a grandmother can make each of her grandchildren think he or she is THE favorite. No matter what the test scores show (so to speak). I think in this story the only person who is insulted is Yosef, on behalf of Menashe. And I also have seen this to be the case with parents. They want to steamroll a path for their children and protect them from the things they think bother their children.
I’ve had conversations with fathers who were livid over how they perceived their children being treated in circumstances that were objectively not a big deal (in school, in shul, at a social function), and when I asked the same children what they felt about it, they told me “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” In other words, everything was fine.
Sadly we can’t protect our children from everything. And, for better or for worse, we don’t always know what is absolutely best for our children, or what our children actually think about what happens to them in their lives, unless we ask them.
We can rely heavily on our own life experience and intuition, but our children also need to have failures and setbacks so they too can toughen up and grow to be the most equipped to face the world that we can raise them to be.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
When Yisrael has his grandsons, Ephraim and Menashe, presented to him, the older grandson (both are in their twenties) is placed on his right side, while the younger is placed on his left.
As Yisrael is in a bed, we can imagine that each young man is on a different side of the bed.
Going against the natural setup, the Torah tells us that Yisrael put his right hand on Ephraim, who was to his left, and his left hand on Menashe, “He deliberately crossed his hands, even though Menashe was the firstborn.” (48:14)
Having performed this scene dozens of times (in acting out the parsha) with children while I was sitting in a chair (which is presumably not as wide as a bed), I can attest that the logistical placement of the hands is not only extremely awkward and uncomfortable, not to mention very difficult to accomplish without saying to the persons, “Come closer as I can’t reach,” but it is also VERY noticeable. The idea that Yosef did not notice until after verses 48:15-16 had transpired is very difficult to accept! And why didn’t Yisrael just ask the boys to switch sides?
Kli Yakar asks this question in a slightly different way, “Why didn’t Yosef stop his father before he gave the blessing?” The first answer he gives is that perhaps Yosef thought the left was more important, and that Menashe was being given a blessing of intelligence, reflective of the heart (in those days thought to be the source of wisdom) – which is on the left side. This is also hinted to in the word “sikel” et Yadav – the word “sikel” (switched) describing the move he did with his hands, is spelled the same as the word “sekhel” (intelligence) [both are שכל]. In this light, Yosef was expecting his father to give two separate blessings to his sons, with Ephraim getting a blessing of the physical world (gashmiyut), reflective of the liver, which is on the right side of the body, which was viewed as the source of physical desires. Only after seeing that his father gave the boys one shared blessing did he intervene to say this was incorrect.
Another view Kli Yakar shares is that Yosef surely had seen his father switch his hands around, but he assumed that his father thought Yosef had brought the first-born on his own (Yosef’s) right side, and the younger son on Yosef’s left, which is why his father switched the hands. When Yosef realized that Yaakov was finished with the blessing and that the proper hands were on the incorrect heads, he told his father to take a mulligan and give the blessing over as Yosef had presented the young men in the way they should have come to Yisrael – with Menashe at his grandfather’s right, and Ephraim at his grandfather’s left. But Yisrael explained that he knew exactly what was going on, and it was deliberate. Perhaps in this sense, “Sikel” means he used his own intelligence to give the blessings he wanted without asking the boys to switch sides – which would have been embarrassing to all.
Jumping on this idea of not embarrassing anyone through asking them to move, Malbim indicates that the word Sikel comes from the word Hiskil – he demonstrated that he knew Menashe was older by putting his left arm above the right arm in his switch-move, so that even though Ephraim gets the right hand, Menashe’s first-born status is indicated through Yisrael’s higher hand being on Menashe. As the Torah depicts it, he put his right hand first on Ephraim, which would necessitate him to put his left hand on Menashe, which could be more easily accomplished through having the left arm go over the right arm. The “Sekhel” demonstrated here becomes a logistical one, in realizing that the only way the left arm would be above the right arm is if he puts the right arm on the younger son first, instead of putting the hand he intended to put on the older one, his left arm, onto the older son first (read that again!).
The logistics of the matter still bother me, as Yisrael at age 147 could not have had an easy time doing this. But what do I know? When there’s a will, sometimes there’s a way. I’ve seen grandparents who can’t pick themselves up from the floor get down on the floor to play with their grandchildren.
And I know from personal experience that a grandmother can make each of her grandchildren think he or she is THE favorite. No matter what the test scores show (so to speak). I think in this story the only person who is insulted is Yosef, on behalf of Menashe. And I also have seen this to be the case with parents. They want to steamroll a path for their children and protect them from the things they think bother their children.
I’ve had conversations with fathers who were livid over how they perceived their children being treated in circumstances that were objectively not a big deal (in school, in shul, at a social function), and when I asked the same children what they felt about it, they told me “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” In other words, everything was fine.
Sadly we can’t protect our children from everything. And, for better or for worse, we don’t always know what is absolutely best for our children, or what our children actually think about what happens to them in their lives, unless we ask them.
We can rely heavily on our own life experience and intuition, but our children also need to have failures and setbacks so they too can toughen up and grow to be the most equipped to face the world that we can raise them to be.
Tuesday, January 3, 2017
Yaakov's Mourning: Yosef v Fighting Children (did he know Yosef was alive?)
Parshat Vayigash
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Today we’re going to explore a very simple question. In all the time Yosef was away, did his father Yaakov know that he was alive?
Many midrashic works and many commentaries note that Yitzchak was still alive, and that he knew through his own divine inspiration that Yosef was alive. Yet he didn’t tell Yaakov because he figured, “If God didn’t tell Yaakov, why should I?”
And yet, when we examine the evidence, the possibility that Yosef was alive might be apparent in Yaakov’s own behavior, even if he did not know of Yosef’s specific fate.
Let us consider the evidence:
After hearing of Yosef’s dream of the sun, moon, and stars bowing to him, the Torah gives us Yaakov’s reaction. 37:10 – “When he told it to his father and brothers, his father scolded him and said, 'What kind of dream did you have? Do you want me, your mother, and your brothers to come and prostrate ourselves on the ground to you?'”
Obviously this interpretation of the dream was incorrect (assuming Yaakov was interpreting) because neither Yaakov nor Rachel (who was dead) ever bowed to Yosef along with the 11 brothers. [Yaakov bows in 47:31 but virtually everyone agrees that he was bowing before God.] But he did think Yosef would be a ruler one day.
Shortly thereafter, Yaakov sent Yosef to find his brothers in Shechem. After Yosef is sold, the brothers present Yosef’s coat to their father who cries (37:33) 'It is my son's coat!' he cried. 'A wild beast must have eaten him! My Joseph has been torn to pieces!' Rashi, Targum Yonatan (and others) and a number of midrashim tell us that in referencing an animal tearing him up, Yaakov was referring to the wife of Potiphar who tried to seduce Yosef.
If we think about it, it makes sense. The brothers only produced a torn coat, but no piece of a body. Not even a leftover bone. It stands to reason that Yaakov considered the possibility that Yosef was not dead, and if the interpretation mentioned is a reflection of reality, it could only be true if Yosef is alive in Egypt!
The simplest question that can be asked is, what about the next two verses? In 37:34-35, we are told that Yaakov “tore his robes in grief and put on sackcloth. He mourned for his son many days. All his sons and daughters tried to console him, but he refused to be comforted. 'I will go down to the grave mourning for my son,' he said…”
However, using a principle of “Al tikrei,” (read the word with vowelization b instead of vowelization a) which is employed in the Talmud over 100 times, we can suggest that when it says “he mourned for his son” (b’no - בנו) the term could mean “for his sons” (banav - בנו) and when he says “I’ll go down to the grave mourning for my son” (b’ni - בני) it could mean “for my sons” (banai - בני). And why might he be mourning for his sons? For the rift between them, and their hubris in getting rid of their brother, and their lying to their father to cover up their shameful deed.
In this light, we can understand why his “sons and daughters” (possibly daughters-in-law or granddaughters) could not comfort him, because until they were able to face the devils in their hearts, he could never be comforted by them.
Recall, by the way, that all players involved in transferring Yosef down to Egypt were direct descendants of Avraham (Radak). Whether it was Yishmaelites (37:28, 39:1), Midianites (37:28), Medanites (37:36), they came from Avraham’s wife Hagar/Keturah (see 25:2). Kli Yakar suggests that when the brothers said “Let’s sell him to the Yishmaelites and our hand will not be upon him for he is our brother” that the point of “he is our brother” was referring to the Yishmaelites, who would certainly not harm their second cousin. Might they not also report to Cousin Yaakov that they had safely delivered Yosef to Egypt?
Which leads us to the next piece of evidence. In 37:25, we are told what the Yishmaelites were carrying down to Egypt - n’khot, tzri and lot - Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan translates these items to be gum, balsam, and resin, though their absolute identification is subject to dispute. In any case, when Yaakov sends the brothers to Egypt with Binyamin, he sends them with a peace-offering gift for the ruler in Egypt – tzri, d’vash, n’khot, lot, botnim and shkeidim – which Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan translates to “a little balsam, a little honey, and some gum, resin, pistachio nuts and almonds.” If they did report to Yaakov that Yosef was brought to Egypt accompanied by these spices, he might use that information to his benefit when Binyamin goes down to Egypt as well.
There is a much broader discussion to be had about what Yosef was trying to accomplish through getting Binyamin down to Egypt. Was he trying to save Binyamin from the dangerous brothers? Was he trying to reenact what happened to him, when a son of Rachel was brought down to Egypt potentially to be a slave (another purpose for the spices connection?), and would the brothers protect him?
Which brings us to Yaakov. Did he know Yosef was alive, even if he had been sold as a slave? Perhaps Yaakov understood that Yosef needed to be away for a long time, because he (Yaakov) had been away from his own parents for a long time.
Was Yaakov in on the plot to see his sons reunited in peace? Why, for example, does Yaakov not accept the offer of Reuven to protect Binyamin, but jumps at accepting Yehuda’s offer? Who was more responsible for Yosef’s being sold – Reuven (who wasn’t present at the sale) or Yehuda (who had raised the idea, and was likely the broker for the exchange, if the brothers in fact sold him)? Yehuda needs to prove that he is a uniter now, and not a divider.
Even his conversation with the brothers before agreeing to send Binyamin is instructive. You have betrayed me. “Yosef is gone and Shimon is gone, and now you want to take Binyamin.” (42:36) The way Yosef’s disappearance is described is equivalent to how Shimon is depicted, Shimon who is languishing in a prison in Egypt. Is Yaakov suggesting that Yosef's (original) fate paralleled Shimon's current situation?
Two verses later, Yaakov says “My son will not go with you, for his brother is dead and he is left alone…” Dead could mean “dead to me” because he has been missing for so long. Or that Yosef was "dead to you brothers" until you find him and patch up old rifts. It might not mean that Yaakov actually thinks Yosef is dead.
And the last piece of evidence is that when the brothers return after their reunion with Yosef, what gives Yaakov a new lease on life? The news brought to him by his sons, the ones who had been divided so long ago, a. that Yosef was alive, and b. that he was a “moshel” (ruler) in Egypt.
Recall that the word “moshel” was one of the first sources for the breach of trust between the brothers and Yosef. 37:8 - 'Do you intend to rule (timshol) over us?'
Now that Yosef indeed “rules” in Egypt, and the brothers are clearly OK with it, Yaakov sees that what he mourned over – the breach in the family relationships at home that caused him so much pain – are behind them.
It’s a fascinating vantage point to consider, that what caused more pain to Yaakov than the possible loss of his child is the deceit and friction that existed between his children. Anyone who suffers from a lack of communication from living children, or who sees siblings who do not get along or talk to one another, knows how painful such a reality can be.
May we all be blessed to find that familial peace, in much less time than the 22 years it took for Yaakov’s children to be reunited.
by Rabbi Avi Billet
Today we’re going to explore a very simple question. In all the time Yosef was away, did his father Yaakov know that he was alive?
Many midrashic works and many commentaries note that Yitzchak was still alive, and that he knew through his own divine inspiration that Yosef was alive. Yet he didn’t tell Yaakov because he figured, “If God didn’t tell Yaakov, why should I?”
And yet, when we examine the evidence, the possibility that Yosef was alive might be apparent in Yaakov’s own behavior, even if he did not know of Yosef’s specific fate.
Let us consider the evidence:
After hearing of Yosef’s dream of the sun, moon, and stars bowing to him, the Torah gives us Yaakov’s reaction. 37:10 – “When he told it to his father and brothers, his father scolded him and said, 'What kind of dream did you have? Do you want me, your mother, and your brothers to come and prostrate ourselves on the ground to you?'”
Obviously this interpretation of the dream was incorrect (assuming Yaakov was interpreting) because neither Yaakov nor Rachel (who was dead) ever bowed to Yosef along with the 11 brothers. [Yaakov bows in 47:31 but virtually everyone agrees that he was bowing before God.] But he did think Yosef would be a ruler one day.
Shortly thereafter, Yaakov sent Yosef to find his brothers in Shechem. After Yosef is sold, the brothers present Yosef’s coat to their father who cries (37:33) 'It is my son's coat!' he cried. 'A wild beast must have eaten him! My Joseph has been torn to pieces!' Rashi, Targum Yonatan (and others) and a number of midrashim tell us that in referencing an animal tearing him up, Yaakov was referring to the wife of Potiphar who tried to seduce Yosef.
If we think about it, it makes sense. The brothers only produced a torn coat, but no piece of a body. Not even a leftover bone. It stands to reason that Yaakov considered the possibility that Yosef was not dead, and if the interpretation mentioned is a reflection of reality, it could only be true if Yosef is alive in Egypt!
The simplest question that can be asked is, what about the next two verses? In 37:34-35, we are told that Yaakov “tore his robes in grief and put on sackcloth. He mourned for his son many days. All his sons and daughters tried to console him, but he refused to be comforted. 'I will go down to the grave mourning for my son,' he said…”
However, using a principle of “Al tikrei,” (read the word with vowelization b instead of vowelization a) which is employed in the Talmud over 100 times, we can suggest that when it says “he mourned for his son” (b’no - בנו) the term could mean “for his sons” (banav - בנו) and when he says “I’ll go down to the grave mourning for my son” (b’ni - בני) it could mean “for my sons” (banai - בני). And why might he be mourning for his sons? For the rift between them, and their hubris in getting rid of their brother, and their lying to their father to cover up their shameful deed.
In this light, we can understand why his “sons and daughters” (possibly daughters-in-law or granddaughters) could not comfort him, because until they were able to face the devils in their hearts, he could never be comforted by them.
Recall, by the way, that all players involved in transferring Yosef down to Egypt were direct descendants of Avraham (Radak). Whether it was Yishmaelites (37:28, 39:1), Midianites (37:28), Medanites (37:36), they came from Avraham’s wife Hagar/Keturah (see 25:2). Kli Yakar suggests that when the brothers said “Let’s sell him to the Yishmaelites and our hand will not be upon him for he is our brother” that the point of “he is our brother” was referring to the Yishmaelites, who would certainly not harm their second cousin. Might they not also report to Cousin Yaakov that they had safely delivered Yosef to Egypt?
Which leads us to the next piece of evidence. In 37:25, we are told what the Yishmaelites were carrying down to Egypt - n’khot, tzri and lot - Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan translates these items to be gum, balsam, and resin, though their absolute identification is subject to dispute. In any case, when Yaakov sends the brothers to Egypt with Binyamin, he sends them with a peace-offering gift for the ruler in Egypt – tzri, d’vash, n’khot, lot, botnim and shkeidim – which Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan translates to “a little balsam, a little honey, and some gum, resin, pistachio nuts and almonds.” If they did report to Yaakov that Yosef was brought to Egypt accompanied by these spices, he might use that information to his benefit when Binyamin goes down to Egypt as well.
There is a much broader discussion to be had about what Yosef was trying to accomplish through getting Binyamin down to Egypt. Was he trying to save Binyamin from the dangerous brothers? Was he trying to reenact what happened to him, when a son of Rachel was brought down to Egypt potentially to be a slave (another purpose for the spices connection?), and would the brothers protect him?
Which brings us to Yaakov. Did he know Yosef was alive, even if he had been sold as a slave? Perhaps Yaakov understood that Yosef needed to be away for a long time, because he (Yaakov) had been away from his own parents for a long time.
Was Yaakov in on the plot to see his sons reunited in peace? Why, for example, does Yaakov not accept the offer of Reuven to protect Binyamin, but jumps at accepting Yehuda’s offer? Who was more responsible for Yosef’s being sold – Reuven (who wasn’t present at the sale) or Yehuda (who had raised the idea, and was likely the broker for the exchange, if the brothers in fact sold him)? Yehuda needs to prove that he is a uniter now, and not a divider.
Even his conversation with the brothers before agreeing to send Binyamin is instructive. You have betrayed me. “Yosef is gone and Shimon is gone, and now you want to take Binyamin.” (42:36) The way Yosef’s disappearance is described is equivalent to how Shimon is depicted, Shimon who is languishing in a prison in Egypt. Is Yaakov suggesting that Yosef's (original) fate paralleled Shimon's current situation?
Two verses later, Yaakov says “My son will not go with you, for his brother is dead and he is left alone…” Dead could mean “dead to me” because he has been missing for so long. Or that Yosef was "dead to you brothers" until you find him and patch up old rifts. It might not mean that Yaakov actually thinks Yosef is dead.
And the last piece of evidence is that when the brothers return after their reunion with Yosef, what gives Yaakov a new lease on life? The news brought to him by his sons, the ones who had been divided so long ago, a. that Yosef was alive, and b. that he was a “moshel” (ruler) in Egypt.
Recall that the word “moshel” was one of the first sources for the breach of trust between the brothers and Yosef. 37:8 - 'Do you intend to rule (timshol) over us?'
Now that Yosef indeed “rules” in Egypt, and the brothers are clearly OK with it, Yaakov sees that what he mourned over – the breach in the family relationships at home that caused him so much pain – are behind them.
It’s a fascinating vantage point to consider, that what caused more pain to Yaakov than the possible loss of his child is the deceit and friction that existed between his children. Anyone who suffers from a lack of communication from living children, or who sees siblings who do not get along or talk to one another, knows how painful such a reality can be.
May we all be blessed to find that familial peace, in much less time than the 22 years it took for Yaakov’s children to be reunited.
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