Parshat Miketz
by Rabbi Avi Billet
I remember the first time I was introduced to the "Not My Fault Syndrome." It was 12th grade, and the rebbe was trying to explain to us why we were responsible for our own use of time. That not using our time to review the Talmud was just an excuse, and that when we blamed everything and everyone else for our problems (or, time wasting, as it were), we weren't taking responsibility for our actions.
It turns out the "syndrome" is a lot deeper than I imagined. People use it all the time to explain away the problems in their lives, often finding great pleasure and comfort in being able to push blame onto others thereby avoiding responsibility. Hey! It's not MY fault! I didn't do anything wrong. In fact, I'm perfect!
Right? Riiiiiight!
We saw this in last week's Torah portion, when Potiphar's wife put all her indescretions on Yosef's back, blaming him for coming to her (false), blaming his attractiveness (true, but false premise), and her being quite simply unable to own up to the reality that she was an abuser who couldn't take responsibility for her own misbehavior. To her credit, she doesn't blame her husband! That would be more like some of the antics of today.
In our parsha, we see what I think is one of the greater examples of the blame-game. Last week, in chapter 40, we read that “the wine pourer and the baker sinned to the master, to the King of Egypt. Paroh got angry at the two officers, the Sar Hamashkim and Sar Ha’ofim, and he put them in prison.”
There’s what to be asked about the change in language in the verse, between calling the sinners the “Mashkeh and Ofeh” while Paroh gets angry at the Sarisim, the Sar HaMashkim and the Sar Ha’Ofim. Most people don’t read too much into this – but there is a possibility that the ones who sinned were underlings, while Paroh got angry at the Officers and put THEM in prison. In that case, who knows what happened to the underlings ? (See here, for a longer analysis of the subtleties of the text)
Most commentaries are of the understanding that the sinners were those upon whom Pharaoh unleashed his wrath, and they were the same people who went to prison.
So isn’t it telling, in our parsha, as Paroh is stewing over his dreams, unable to figure out the interpretation, that when the Sar HaMashkim tells him about Yosef, he recalls his personal tale of woe in the following manner. 41:9 – "I recall my sins today. Pharoah got angry at his servants… we had dreams… there was a Naar Ivri there who interpreted our dreams correctly.”
Did we read that correctly? "I recall my sins… PHARAOH GOT ANGRY AT ME." Those aren’t your sins! But that’s the way people look at things.
I recall my sin “IT WAS YOUR FAULT, PHARAOH, THAT I WENT TO PRISON. BECAUSE YOU GOT ANGRY AT ME.” But I didn’t do anything wrong.
I am going to share one pet peeve with you, possibly relatable to many people - either because you share the pet-peeve or because you're part of the problem.
And here it is: the use of phones during davening, or even when they simply ring during davening.
Everyone knows you turn off your phone in the theater, at the movies. Is it so difficult to have at the very least, the same respect for SHUL?
A few years ago I did some introspection on this and made a decision to change bad behavior. Sometimes I don’t even have my phone with me in shul. And because it's annoying to turn off the phone, when I do have it on me, I turn it on airplane mode before davening starts. No calls or texts come in anymore, and data is shut off so I don't touch it during lulls in davening. It’s automatic for me now. (I used to silence it and put it in my tallis bag, but that didn't help for Mincha and Maariv. Airplane mode is the solution!)
We all have a moral and ethical responsibility to create and maintain an environment for davening that makes everyone comfortable.
It should go without saying that talking to another person, and even moreso doing so on the phone is extremely disturbing to those who are focused properly, and who come to shul to have the opportunity to converse with the Almighty. It is extremely inconsiderate to conduct oneself thinking these other conversations have any place in the course of davening, especially during the week when the time we commit to tefillah is so short.
But when the phone starts ringing, some have the attitude that “I didn’t call myself. Someone else called me! I didn’t make my phone ring.”
Or they play the Sar HaMashkim game. “I admit my sins. So and so texted me first! It’s his or her fault for calling/texting!"
Or they say, "It's boring. So what if I played a game."
Look around many shuls during Shacharis (except on Shabbos), especially when there are teenagers present, and you'll see at any given time, 40% of people on their phone.
It's not "Pharaoh's fault that we are sinning." Everyone must take responsibility for their own behavior. Not recognizing that davening time is a time to detach from the phone is the fault of anyone who does not take personal precautions.
And it's up to each of us to change the culture and to own up to our own weakness. Take the phone out of the equation, and reconnect to tefillah in the most profound way.
If still unconvinced, read this article by a man who, sadly and tragically, passed away before turning 40, and who asked others to pray for him and to turn the phone off when doing so.
ReplyDeletehttps://everytreeisheard.wordpress.com/2016/06/08/hamispallel-bead-chaveiro/
If this doesn't inspire the right change in basic synagogue decorum, I honestly don't know what could.