Yaakov, Pharaoh, Age, and Life Expectancy

Parshat Vayigash 

by Rabbi Avi Billet

In a touching moment, father and son reunite after 22 years. We will never really know if Yaakov knew what had happened to Yosef, and the theories abound as to what Yosef suspected had brought him to this place, where he is finally seeing his dreams fulfilled. 

However we would like to view the story, Yosef has already indicated to his brothers his belief that God had orchestrated everything so that Yosef would be in a position to sustain his family during the remaining years of the famine. So the family is now in Egypt, and it is time for the Patriarch to meet his son’s boss, Pharaoh. 

While we might expect a more stately encounter, Pharaoh’s first words to Yaakov are a question – כמה ימי שני חייך. How old are you? Or, literally, “how many are the days of the years of your life?” 

It is an odd question. And there are many answers given to what was driving Pharaoh in asking the question. Some theories include he had never seen someone as old as Yaakov, Yaakov looked very very old, he thought Yaakov was Avraham (who had come down to Egypt 85 years before Yaakov was born) and he was curious how he was still alive! 

As odd as the question seems to be, Yaakov’s answer is even more strange. Instead of just saying “I’m 130 years old,” Yaakov says, יְמֵי֙ שְׁנֵ֣י מְגוּרַ֔י שְׁלֹשִׁ֥ים וּמְאַ֖ת שָׁנָ֑ה מְעַ֣ט וְרָעִ֗ים הָיוּ֙ יְמֵי֙ שְׁנֵ֣י חַיַּ֔י וְלֹ֣א הִשִּׂ֗יגוּ אֶת־יְמֵי֙ שְׁנֵי֙ חַיֵּ֣י אֲבֹתַ֔י בִּימֵ֖י מְגוּרֵיהֶֽם: “The days of the years of my sojourning are 130. Few and bad have been the days of the years of my life, and they have not reached the [number of] days of the years of the lives of my fathers, in the days of their sojourning.” 

Aside from referring to the years of his sojourning when he had been asked about “the years of your life” (Yaakov mentioned ימי שני מגורי when he had been asked about חייך), he gives an odd commentary in place of a straight answer! "Few and bad were ימי שני חיי, and they did not reach the ימי שני חיי of my fathers." Why would he do this? 

It is certainly true that Yaakov’s life had been far from blissful. He ran from Eisav, he dealt with Lavan’s trickery and treachery for 20 years, he suffered through the kidnapping and rape of Dinah, Rachel died young, Yosef was missing for 22 years, and even the recent stress over Binyamin’s fate in Egypt were very difficult for him. And now it looks like he’s probably going to die far from home, in Egypt. Rabbi Chaim Paltiel even suggests that God looked at Yaakov’s complaining and took away years from his life for still complaining even though everything that could be resolved had more or less been resolved!: 

I saved you from Lavan, from Eisav, from the pursuit of any Shechem allies, I got you Dinah back, and I even got you Yosef back. And Binyamin is fine. 

Netziv ignores most of these issues and opines that the worst moments in Yaakov’s life were his experiences with Rachel and Dinah: Rachel experienced infertility and died young, Dinah was raped and had her life destroyed by Shechem. 

Yaakov and Rachel were married 15 years maximum. We don’t know when Leah died because her death is not recorded, but we do know that Yaakov buried her in Me’arat HaMachpela, possible even before they all came down to Egypt. If that is the case, she and Yaakov were married at most 46 years. That’s a nice amount of time by our standards, but considering how much older than her Yaakov likely was, and how much he outlived her, her death is also a tragedy. She probably wasn’t even 60 when she died. And of course, she may have been much younger, dying shortly after Yosef was sold (otherwise, why would Yaakov have to tell his sons, Yosef included, where he had buried Leah?) 

While it seems clear that Rachel died from complications from childbirth, it’s actually not clear. The Torah speaks of her death in 3 ways: a. וַיְהִ֞י בְּצֵ֤את נַפְשָׁהּ֙ (and it was as her soul was leaving) b. כִּ֣י מֵ֔תָה (because she was dying) c. וַתָּ֖מָת רָחֵ֑ל (and Rachel died), which indicates to some commentaries that her death was not immediate. Binyamin was born, she had a chance to name him. And shortly thereafter – how shortly though, minutes, hours, days? – she died. 

Haksav V’hakabbalah looks at Yaakov’s words to Pharaoh and suggests says there’s an important lesson to be learned from Yaakov. 

מעט ורעים – my days of JOY were limited in volume. And they were spread around. I never had an extended period of JOY in my life. Most single days of joy were cancelled out by the difficulties of my life. 

While this approach is championed by other commentaries, Rabbi Mecklenburg says “it’s hard to fathom that Yaakov is complaining. Because a true Tzaddik is to be joyous, even with יסורין, suffering in this world, and he certainly doesn’t bring up his sufferings all the time.” 

Therefore, he says, there’s something much deeper going on here. 

Everyone who tries to achieve what he calls a “Shleimut Nafshi” has a simple goal of serving God. However there are two ways to go about doing that. 

One is the Derech HaKovesh. The other is the Derech haYashar (both defined below). 

The Derech HaKovesh is the one who achieves a relationship with God through conquering his base animal desires. He conquers them and channels those instincts into serving God. This person is in a Milchama Temidit, an eternal struggle with his soul. Yaakov referred to this kind of life as שני מגורי (the years of my sojourning). מגור doesn’t come from a word that means to “Live” – it comes from a word which means to “struggle.” There’s an example of this word in Devarim 2:24, as well as in Tehillim 39:11 - הָסֵ֣ר מֵעָלַ֣י נִגְעֶ֑ךָ מִתִּגְרַ֥ת יָ֝דְךָ֗ אֲנִ֣י כָלִֽיתִי: - from the “attack” of your hand I am destroyed. 

The Derech haYashar refers to when there is no internal struggle. If the heart is filled with the love of Hashem, and there is no room for animalistic behavior – a person who achieves this kind of living is called one who is חי באמת.

Every ounce of his or her strength goes towards achieving החיים הנצחיים, an eternal legacy of life. 

There is no doubt that the existence Yaakov aimed for was this Derech HaYashar and that every day he lived to achieve a true completeness, the שלמות האמתי. The opening verse of next week’s parsha will say ויהי ימי יעקב שני חייו, that Yaakov’s days were YEARS of LIFE. 

In his response to Pharaoh’s odd questions, then, Yaakov was humbling himself to the king, as Tzaddikim do. So instead of saying שני חיי, he said שני מגורי, because he was indicating to Pharoah that his life had been a struggle, and that his Derech HaYashar life was really not so much. Too many tough times negatively impacted his relationship with God. 

And as much as he belittled his own accomplishments, he put up his father and grandfather for all their great successes. When he talks about them he says ימי מגוריהם, because they only struggled a few DAYS. While their שני חיי, were YEARS of CHAIM. 

Yaakov was teaching Pharaoh that when people use the word CHAIM – to talk about the number of years of their LIVES, that’s not REAL. REAL LIFE is not about how long you have on this earth. It’s about the MEANING PUT INTO THAT LIFE. 

So he wasn’t complaining. He was being humble. And through his humility, he showed us that the days of ימי שני חיי which were רעים were actually מעט. The bad days, which took away from my שני חיי were actually very few. He was able to come to this conclusion, because Yaakov had a Simchas HaChaim (joy in life, and a joy one gets out of life), which came from his special relationship with God, despite the fact that there were very trying days – what happened to some of his children, the death(s) of his wife/wives, etc. 

Yaakov was not miserable! He was humble! We can learn from our 3rd Patriarch that no matter what struggles God or life sends our way, how we deal with them becomes perhaps the defining moments of our lives. We ALL know people whose struggles destroyed them. We ALL know people who became INSPIRATIONS TO ALL through their strength. 

Yaakov was responding to Pharaoh’s question in an unconventional way because he understood the question in an unconventional manner. In his mind, Pharaoh was asking, “How are the days of your life,” not “how many are the days of your life?” So Yaakov’s answer was to the question of what guides my life. If I’m looking for Shleimus Nafshi, then everything is part of the grander scheme of my rising above, as best and as much as possible, and my seeking out the Derech HaYashar - which is a constant, and never-ending struggle. 

When our perspective is not “God, why me?” But rather, “God, we’re going to get through this together, to whatever conclusion is right in Your eyes,” we’re well on the way to the Chaim Nitzchiyim, and to living a life of bliss, with the closest relationship with God we could achieve. 

May we only merit to carry such a perspective always.

He Lifted His Eyes, to See What?

Parshat Miketz 

by Rabbi Avi Billet

The phrase וישא עיניו (or some plural equivalent) appears a few times in the book of Bereshis, to simply depict what someone sees. Sometimes the area of scope is an investigation, sometimes it turns out to provide a solution to a problem. 

In 13:10, Lot lifts his eyes to scope out Sodom, which is “like the garden of God, like the land of Egypt.” 

On 18:2, Avraham lifts his eyes and sees 3 men/angels walking towards him, and he runs to bring them to his home. 

In chapter 22, twice Avraham raises his eyes: first to see the mountain, and second to discover a ram caught in the brambles, which will now serve as the offering in place of Yitzchak. 

In 24:63, Yitzchak lifts his eyes to see a caravan of camels, who are coming to bring his bride to him. 

In 33:1, Yaakov lifts his eyes to see Eisav approaching with 400 men. Eisav returns the favor 5 verses later, lifting his own eyes to examine Yaakov’s family. 

Last week we read of how the brothers lifted their eyes to see the caravan of Yishmaelites heading down to Egypt (37:25), and they take the opportunity to plan to sell Yosef to Egypt through these traveling merchants 

Finally, this week we read of how Yosef lifted his eyes to see Binyamin when Binyamin was brought down to Egypt by his brothers (43:29). 

Each of these liftings of the eyes comes at a pivotal moment in history. Lot decides where his fate will lie, and his decisions brings him to Sodom, where he will lose most of his family, and emerge to father Moav and Ammon from his daughters. 

 Avraham cements his reputation as a Machnis Orchim (one who welcomes guests), as he goes above any base requirement, even while he is healing from his recent circumcision. 

He discovers the mountaintop where he will have the most profound moment of connection with the Almighty that he’s ever had, and he also sees the ram that will essentially save Yitzchak’s life, through taking his place on the mizbeach. 

Yitzchak, the erstwhile offering, sees the potential for his continuing to build this family and this nation. 

Yaakov and Eisav size each other up, to discover they are not threats to one another. Their meeting concludes with an agreement to part ways and to possibly meet up again some day. 

When the brothers notice the Yishmaelites, and Yehuda makes the suggestion to sell Yosef, what might have been an otherwise mortal descent to a pit became the prequel to his life being spared albeit while being sold to slavery. 

Yosef’s own gaze upon Binyamin may have set into motion a new plan that would direct the fate and destiny of the family of Rachel. 

There are interesting debates surrounding what Yosef’s plan was. Why did he want Binyamin to come down? Why did he want Binyamin to stay with him? Why does he seem unconcerned about the pain to which he is subjecting his father? Is there significance to the fact that Binyamin has ten sons and Yosef has two (10+2=12), as we discover in 46:20-21? 

One possibility is he wanted to start a new nation with their combined 12 sons. 

Another possibility is that he was testing how the brothers would respond to another son of Rachel being taken away. 

Another possibility is that he simply needed time to talk with Binyamin without anyone else around so the two of them could strategize next steps, and see which brother(s) could fit into their shared vision for the family. 

Our Sages had much to say about seeing and vision, but we’ll use one example for now.

 איזהו חכם? הרואה את הנולד . Who is wise? One who can anticipate outcomes. (Tamid 32a) 

One wonders how much, of the visions we see in the book in Bereshis, were accompanied by a true thought process, and how often did the vision trigger a spontaneous and unanticipated reaction? 

There seems to be a parallel between the way Yitzchak is saved at his binding and how Yosef is saved. The fact that Yishmael makes an appearance in the latter case may also indicate something about Yishmael’s own near-death experience, and his own salvation. This is not a question of whether Yishmael deserved to die, but was saved באשר הוא שם, as he was in the moment (a point emphasized on Rosh Hashana). Whether Yitzchak was deserving of death and was spared, or was never meant to die is beside the point. He too was answered מי שענה ליצחק בנו כשנעקד על גבי המזבח הוא יעננו. Perhaps the brothers seeing the caravan of Yishmaelites reminded them that no matter what they thought of Yosef after his dreams, when he was yelling from the pit to which they had thrown him, he deserved to be viewed by them the way Yishmael had been viewed by God – worthy of living. 

Certainly in the case of Yosef’s vision of Binyamin while viceroy, while he may not have been able to anticipate what happens at the beginning of Vayigash – when Yehuda lays everything on the table to save Binyamin, and Yosef breaks down and reveals himself to his brothers, perhaps earlier than planned – his hopes and plans may have had different directions entirely. But that’s ok. Even the best laid plans are sometimes met with setbacks and hurdles. 

We just finished Chanukah, a holiday celebrating our spiritual survival from the hands of an enemy bent on destroying our souls. It was the heroes of that time who lifted their eyes and had a vision that complacency and accepting the viewpoint of those who rule over us is not in our best interests. If we are to survive as a Jewish people, we have to anticipate outcomes. They did – it wasn’t a pretty outcome – so they took up arms to fight for their very survival. We know that without Judaism there are no Jews. 

Had the Maccabees known their descendants would turn away from observance would they have fought the good fight? They anticipated outcomes. They foresaw that the legacy they’d leave would outlast the legacy of corruption their descendants might leave behind 

For Yosef, no matter how much “he planned and God laughed,” he did manage to reunite the family, bring everyone down to Egypt, and take care of everyone for the rest of his life. Whatever he saw when he looked upon Binyamin may or may not have come about. But he continued to demonstrate throughout his rulership in Egypt that he had learned the lesson from Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov. 

When you have the chance to take a step back, raise your eyes and look, what do you see? Confusion? Or hope and salvation. 

May we merit to experience hope and see a salvation במהרה בימינו.

It’s A Numbers Game

 Parshat Vayeshev 

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Yosef experiences his own dreams at the beginning of the parsha, and he hears of the dreams of the Pharaoh’s officers at the end of the parsha. In the beginning of Miketz, we will read of Pharaoh’s dreams, and then we will watch as Pharaoh recounts his dreams to Yosef. 

In every dream except Yosef’s first dream there is a specific number that is pointed out in the retelling. 11 stars, 3 vines, 3 baskets, 7 cows and 7 cows, 7 stalks and 7 stalks. 

In every case the number is presented as a count of a physical (or celestial) object, but the number, in most cases turns out to be interpreted as depicting a passage of time. Interestingly, Yosef’s dream of the stars is never properly interpreted for him, and it happens to be that 11 years pass from the time of his dream until the time he interprets the dreams for Pharaoh’s officers. This could be a coincidence, but it could also be that his dream meant 11 years would pass before he could see the path to the people of the universe (as represented by the sun, moon, and stars) would be bowing to him. He still would not know how that would come about – because he would not only have to be granted an audience with Pharaoh, but in their few minutes together, he’d have to convince the king that he (Yosef) is the right man for a rulership position in Egypt. 

While dream interpretation is not a very common skill, the idea that Yosef’s dreams of rulership would be translated to taking place in Egypt specifically, especially in light of the circumstances that brought Yosef to Egypt and his imprisonment there, seems beyond even Yosef’s skills to determine from his own dream. 

But nothing is impossible. Yosef was very forward with the officers in the prison – perhaps taking risks that were far beyond his position, status and pay grade – in talking to them and offering his services. He was very bold in telling the Sar HaMashkim (chief wine pourer) to tell Pharaoh about him. Was Yosef hedging his bets? Or did his interpretation of the Sar HaMashkim’s dream include his suggestion because the idea of tendrils blossoming and of a grape producing fine wine spoke to Yosef’s own experience. Perhaps hearing the dreams helped Yosef see that life in Egypt is fluid. Officers are imprisoned, and sometimes executed, at the whim of the king. There is a chance, even for an imprisoned slave, to be taken out of prison and given a chance to rise to power. 

Yosef’s strength as an interpreter, then, is most connected to his ability to see what the numbers mean. Had he told the officers that 3 meant something else, or if he gave a timeframe that turned out to be inaccurate (i.e. 3 weeks, months, years) his ship would have been sunk and the story would have been over. 

It seems, then, that Yosef’s strength is in the numbers, and perhaps, in hedging his bets. 

While it happens every now and then that we have two Shabbos Chanukahs, it is extremely rare to have Shabbos Chanukah coincide only with Parshas Vayeshev. Usually Shabbos Chanukah coincides with Miketz, which makes the haftorah for Miketz that appears in the Chumash – the story of Shlomo Hamelekh and the mothers dispute over whose baby has survived –one of the least-read haftorahs. 

While that Haftorah is not a numbers game, it does contain motifs that parallel the Torah’s narrative – such as Shlomo waking up to realize he had a dream (as Pharaoh did), and the women having their dispute on the 3rd day after having giving birth (3rd day after the dreams is when the officers were given resolution) – including, most notably, Shlomo hedging his bets that the woman whose child died would play her hand wrong and indicate she didn’t care if the baby were put to death. 

While Chanukah is a holiday largely focused on miracles – the miracle of the oil and miracle of the military victory – it also plays a numbers game that demonstrates a strength, fortitude, and resilience that would do us well to remember is part of our shared communal history. 

Moshe tells us in Devarim 7:7, “It is not because you are many that God desired you and chose you, for you are actually very few in number compared to the nations of the world.” 

It seems that our low numbers are in fact our strength. Al HaNissim notes the “Rabbim b’yad M’atim” – how the many (Assyrian Greeks) fell to the hands of the few (the Maccabees). 

Of course it defies logic, but the strength of the Jewish people is not always logical. 

We live with numbers. We count numbers to determine the right time to have a bris, to begin chinukh, to celebrate bar/bat mitzvah. We note the Mishnah in Avos 5 that gives ages for life’s milestones. In Tehillim 90 (“(Tefillah L’Moshe” which we read in Shabbos/Yom Tov pesukei D’Zimrah), Moshe noted that “the days of our years are 70, and if with increase, eighty years…” 

And of course, Chanukah is a holiday of a number – the number 8. Beis Shammai felt we should decrease the number of candles we light each day, beginning with 8 and ending the last night with only one candle. Beis Hillel felt we should increase the number of candles, lighting one the first night leading up to eight candles on the last night. Beis Shammai wanted to parallel the offerings of bulls on Sukkos, where the number of bulls offered daily went down each day. Beis Hillel follows the principle of “maalin b’kodesh v’ein moridin” – that we increase our holiness and don’t decrease it. We have a similar attitude in having a count-up during Sefirat Ha’omer instead of a countdown. 

8 is a unique number in our tradition – it is the day of a bris. It is also the day of a newborn animal’s life when it becomes fit to be a korban. It is also the day when a person who had to undergo certain purification processes became “tahor.” In these Biblical examples, the 8th day becomes a day when the baby, the animal, the newly tahor are raised to a point where a spiritual fulfillment purpose previously unavailable to them and unattainable is now open for them to reach tremendous heights – as a Jew bearing the mark of the covenant, as an animal fit to be a korban, as a person now fit to serve God as far into the Temple Mount as his purity can take him. This is very much contingent on our input and our effort. 

Chanukah certainly reflects this. Whether it is the actions of the heroes of the Chanukah story, or our own efforts to publicly light our Menorahs and display our heritage, that primes us to be ready to engage in level 2 of the Maccabean victory – to return the Temple Service to the most ideal form it could be. 

Like Yosef, we must do what we can to move ahead forging our destiny. If he had sat by, he’d have gotten no promotions in Potiphar’s house, no promotion in the prison, and no audience with Pharaoh. He was patient with his numbers. He waited. 

Chanukah’s increasing number reminds us that we can’t just light candles and expect amazing things to happen. It behooves us to ask ourselves how can we make Chanukah infuse our spiritual connections as well. Like Yosef who remained Yosef HaTzaddik in a foreign land, Chanukah’s message is that we too can thrive in a foreign land, if we have our wits about us and a laser focus on our spiritual goals. 

Beis Hillel is right in this numbers game. We must be rising in holiness so Chanukah and we are not ships passing in the night. The Chanukah lights are needed to reignite the flame of our connection with the Almighty. It is up to us to note it, and ride the Chanukah wave for many months.

Who Is to Blame When People Die?

Parshat Vayeshev

Chapter 38 begins with the tale of Yehuda’s marriage, the birth of his children, and the deaths of Er and Onan, in their respective marriages to Tamar. 

Before we get into the Torah's depiction of their deaths, as well as the reasons for their young lives being so cut short, let us examine the name Er for a moment. 

What does ער mean? Where does the name come from? Midrash Rabba says he was named Er  ותקרא שמו ער, שהוער מן העולם – “He was called Er because he was emptied from the world.” (Many Midrashim cite this same idea. Targum Yonatan says he is “Er” because he will die childless) This could be a ploy the Bible often uses to name someone based on what their fate turned out to be. Hevel (vanity, emptiness) did not live very long. Machlon and Kilyon (illness and destruction) died young as well. Were these their real names? It is hard to imagine that at Er’s bris speech Yehuda said, “We named him Er because we anticipate he will die young.”

A different explanation for his name, much more positive and uplifting, is noted by Ramban, who quotes the verse in Tehillim 80:3 that has the word ער meaning to arouse strength. Rabbi Moshe of Kovrin similarly suggested that “ער” comes from the word לעורר, that he was meant to serve as a source of inspiration to others towards Godliness.

If his name was indeed Er, and it is not the Torah’s way of commenting on his short-lived life, then wouldn’t the explanation of Ramban and the Kovrin Rebbe be more palatable than the viewpoint of the Midrash?

With this in mind, let us look at Er's death. The Torah tells us that וַיְהִ֗י עֵ֚ר בְּכ֣וֹר יְהוּדָ֔ה רַ֖ע בְּעֵינֵ֣י ה' וַיְמִתֵ֖הוּ ה' – “Er, Yehuda’s firstborn, was bad in God’s eyes, and God had him die.”

There is no other explanation given – God saw him as “bad.” (Onan’s death is less mysterious, therefore less intriguing and will only be mentioned peripherally.)

According to the Talmud Sanhedrin 69 – and a basic mathematical formula – Er and Onan had to have been between 7-12 years old (Seder Olam says “7”). No matter how we understand their death-causing errors, Er and Onan were what we would call in our times “children.” The closest thing we have in our tradition of children dying at this age as a punishment is the example of the “ben sorer u’moreh” (the rebellious son) who could be executed at age 13 based on how his current behavior reflects upon how we anticipate he will turn out (Devarim 21:21, see Rashi on 21:18, and Mishnah Sanhedrin 8:5). Could the same reasoning apply to the deaths of Er and Onan? The Torah specifically mentions what Onan did to be deserving of death (38:9-10), and the Midrash, and therefore many commentaries say that Er did the same thing, and thus God took his life.

But that’s not a universally accepted point!

There is a view, also recorded in the Midrash, that Yehuda’s “fall” after the sale of Yosef, is what led to his burying his wife and sons (Midrash Rabba 85:2-3, see also Sotah 13b). Maharsha on the Talmud suggests that Yehuda’s sin(s) caused their deaths.

Ramban purposely does not specify what Er’s sin was, but takes issue with the just cited Midrash and Gemara, noting that “[the verse] indicates that he died on account of his own sin, to let us know that his death did not come as a punishment to Yehuda over the sale of Yosef.”

The Pesikta notes that “no one knew of his wickedness except for God.”

Netziv looks at the totality of the verse and suggests , “Because he was ‘Yehuda’s first born’ – that’s why he died. Once he was determined to be ‘bad in God’s eyes’ and not worthy of producing the seed that would ultimately father kingship” he needed to be removed from the equation and had to die. Netziv supports this idea with a teaching from Yoma 72b.

With all these conflicting notions, I like to think that the answer to the question of  “Why did Er die?” is “We don’t know why Er died.” We only know that ער was רע in God’s eyes. His name is turned around, suggesting that he himself was backwards in God’s eyes. Trying to answer for why he died is trying to understand the ways of God.

The best answer for why Er died is because God wanted it that way.

And so it is with death in general. We don’t know why people die. 

We certainly want everyone we know to live longer. All of us probably want to live a long and healthy life.

We do know how some or most people die. We know that pointing fingers at who is to blame for anyone’s death (with the exception of actual murderers) is a naïve and almost childish response to how God runs the world. Some very bad decisions by errant politicians and not-as-yet-informed physicians can be pointed to as having killed people who needn’t have died, especially if poor decisions and patient-care actions directly caused death.

That said, we live in a time when people call their political opponents murderers. We live in a time when medical choices people make for themselves are judged by others. We live in a time when government has decided it can and must ruin many lives (both among the living and the lives that have been lost due to government overreach, mismanagement, and thinking they’re smarter than a virus) at the cost of saving some lives. Who is to say what is right? Who is to say what is wrong?

Is there a debate about who is to blame for Er’s death? Yes. The debate boils down to Er himself, or his father’s errors. But the Torah makes it clear that God is the One Who decided that Er should die! Had there been other bad people in the Torah prior to Er? Yes. Some of them died (Flood, Sodom), and other controversial characters were allowed to live (Pharaoh, Avimelekh, Lavan).

We continue not to know or understand the ways of God. 

Our task, as was Yehuda's task, is to move beyond the death of loved ones, to gather the pieces of our broken hearts and live life to the fullest that is possible. Suggesting we know, or blaming innocent people for deaths of anyone, when a virus and illness are things which God put into the world, comes from a deep and dark place that suggests humans can fully control and counter the ways of God. 

While we certainly pray for everyone to be well, and for everyone to be blessed with health, in the end, we do not know God's account, we don't know why anyone lives or does not live, we don't know or understand God's Master Plan. 

When the Going Gets Tough – Do the Tough Split?

Parshat Vayishlach 

by Rabbi Avi Billet

The word ויחץ, “and he divided,” appears twice in the entire Torah. Both times are in our parsha, and they come as a clear contrast to how Yaakov planned and ultimately acted in response to the news that his brother was coming to greet him with 400 men. 

When he first heard of Eisav’s pending approach, ויחץ את העם אשר אתו... לשני מחנות (32:8). He divided the people and animals that were with him into two camps, with the thought being that if one camp were to be attacked, the other would have the chance to flee. 

The second ויחץ comes at the beginning of chapter 33, as Eisav and his companions show up: ויחץ את הילדים על לאה ועל רחל ועל שתי השפחות. Yaakov splits the children up, with each child assigned to his mother – Leah has her 6 boys (and Dinah?), Bilhah and Zilpah each have their respective 2 sons, and Rachel is with Yosef. 

While it is true that Yaakov’s initial reaction of fear was based on a lack of knowledge of Eisav’s intentions, whatever happened to that original division-into-camps plan? 

One could argue that Yaakov’s preparations of appeasement gifts, his prayer, his plans for military confrontation, as well as the fight with the mysterious man (/angel) all gave him a different perspective on how his encounter with Eisav might unfold. Maybe he had confidence that Eisav received his gifts. Perhaps he felt his prayer had hit the right mark. Possibly the camp of people accompanying him demonstrated their ability and willingness to stand at his side should they come under attack. Many commentaries note that the struggle with the angel was meant to either symbolically or physically show Yaakov that Eisav couldn’t defeat him and shouldn’t even scare him – if an angel couldn’t defeat him, surely Eisav was no match for him. Could these votes of confidence have pushed him over to abandon his original ויחץ plans? 

Even if he did scrap those plans, he nevertheless reverts to ויחץ when he finally does see Eisav face to face. The division can be described as each son is attached to his mother, respectively, and no one is going anywhere. What is the point of this division, if no one is intent on running? 

The commentaries have such varied views on Yaakov’s plans, it is hard to imagine they are looking at the same narrative. 

Netziv notes that the encounter with the angel indeed gave Yaakov the impression that Eisav would not harm him in a significant way, thus he abandoned his first ויחץ plan. 

On the other side, Seforno and HaKsav V’hakabbalah are of the view that Yaakov proceeded with ויחץ because he discerned that his appeasement gift had not impressed Eisav at all – they seem to argue that Yaakov’s plans, in fact, never changed. Along similar lines, Rav S.R. Hirsch also feels Eisav was not mollified, as evidenced by his still having the 400 men with him, and his lesson is that no matter what happens, and no matter how much we want to trust in God for everything, we must put in our own efforts and never rely on miracles. 

Contrast that to the Midrash Sechel Tov who quotes R Simōn who has Yaakov feeling his tefillah working, R Levi who has Yaakov expressing confidence in his military preparations being up to snuff, and then Yaakov facing reality when the encounter took place, that each person would have his/her own merit (זכות) serve as their own defense. 

There are many interpretations of what lesson Yaakov was to take from his fight with the angel. In a positive light, just as Yaakov can not be defeated by an angel, he can not be defeated by the mortal Eisav (Radak). The angel was sent specifically to cripple Yaakov, to prevent him from opting to run from Eisav, so God’s promise of protection could be fulfilled (Chizkuni). The angel was sent on a mission to fight with and lose to Yaakov, to teach Yaakov to be confident in his strength so he can overcome the adversity he faces in his conflict with his brother (Yalkut Shimoni). In a more negative view, once he saw that the angel had injured him in the thigh, he feared that Eisav would overpower his descendants and his children – and therefore he split the camp again (Malbim). 

The fact is that Eisav does not attack, leaving his intentions unclear, and all we have is the fear that prompted Yaakov to split his camp in two at the beginning, and his reaction to actually seeing Eisav which is played out in a different form of a split – mothers with their respective children. Radak suggests that each mother is most concerned for her own children – if she can save them she will (by running away – (B’chor Shor), and if not, no one will plead for mercy on behalf of her children as she will. 

Alshikh ignores the entire question about Yaakov’s original plan, focusing on how the Torah presents Yaakov’s placement of his family. He put the children “on Leah, on Rachel, and on the two maids.” Then “he put the maids and their sons first, then Leah and her children behind, and Rachel and Yosef behind.” 

Alshikh describes how his assigning each mother to her sons indicated that he cared for all the mothers equally, and the placement of the maids in front was because he was still dealing with them when he started to put everyone in place. Leah was “behind” and Yaakov was closest to her (the first mother of the tribes), even though he might have preferred to be closest to Rachel, who seems like an afterthought in his placing her last. 

Yaakov, according to Alshikh, was playing politics in the placement of his children, so no one would feel slighted as if they were considered more expendable. 

It seems that the term ויחץ is used to describe the kind of division of the family that Yaakov ultimately utilizes, but it does not seem that his initial intent is the one he uses when he splits people up. Why? Very simply. We can plan every stage of our lives, but we can’t always anticipate how other people will play their roles, or how God will play His role. 

When the facts on the ground change – whether it’s the outcome of Yaakov’s preparations, prayers, struggle with the angel, etc, or Eisav’s acceptance or non-acceptance of Yaakov’s gift, or Eisav’s choice of how he truly wanted to meet Yaakov – Yaakov went through with a plan of ויחץ, but it was no longer a plan to have one group flee. 

If Yaakov abandoned his plans to flee, he must have had a tremendous faith, אמונה, and trust, בטחון, in the Almighty, that somehow things would turn out alright. But Yaakov wanted to keep his word as well, and so he divided the people up, though a little differently than originally planned. 

How do we roll with circumstances that go beyond our control? When our plan is thwarted? When it no longer works to do things in the way we intended? Are we able to adjust? Do we do our best to keep our word? And where do we view God in all that transpires? Do we still trust in Him? Have faith in Him? Communicate with Him? 

If the answer is yes, or that we manage to adjust and make things work, we are worthy of bearing the name of Israel, “you have struggled with God and with Man and you have overcome.”

“I shall give thanks to Hashem”

Parshat Vayetze 

by Rabbi Avi Billet

The second to last blessing of Shmoneh Esrei, which begins with the word מודים and concludes with the blessing of בא"י הטוב שמך ולך נאה להודות, is known as the ברכת הודאה, a term which can arguably mean a. the blessing of thanksgiving, or b. the blessing of acknowledgment. (Tehillim chapter 100 is often referred to as a “Psalm of thanksgiving” – it concludes with the words that translate to mean “For Hashem is good, His loving-kindness endures forever, and his faithfulness is for all generations.”) 

We begin our communication with the Almighty every day with the words מודה אני – which can also mean either “I give thanks to You” or “I acknowledge before You” that You have restored my soul to me in compassion… 

This duality can help us understand the strange reality of the name Leah gives to her 4th son – יהודה/Yehuda. 

Leah names Reuven and Shimon (29:32-33), then there is a subtle change in the text when it comes to the naming of Levi, whereby Leah explains her feelings, but “he called him Levi” presumably indicates that either Yaakov (Midrash Sechel Tov, Rashbam, Radak, Chizkuni, Netziv), the angel Gavriel (Rashi), or God Himself (Hadar Zekenim, Rabbenu Bachaye) called him Levi. Then it resumes with her naming Yehuda, “This time let me praise (odeh) God.” 

Why does she wait until her 4th child is born to praise, acknowledge, or give thanks to God? What follows are explanations and insights from an array of classic commentaries. Bear in mind the dual-notion of her giving thanks, as well as acknowledging God’s role. 

 The Midrash notes in several places that Leah and Rachel knew Yaakov would have 4 wives and 12 sons. Simple math has each woman giving birth to 3 children – making all things even and fair. Her having a 4th son indicates she is having more than her presumed share (see also Rashi, Ibn Ezra, Radak, etc). 

Targum Yonatan gives a further credit of divine inspiration to Leah through having her note her awareness that from this son will come the line of kings, especially King David who will bring the thanks to and praise of God to a whole new level, through the many passages in Tehillim which do exactly that! 

 Rabbi Chaim Paltiel compares Leah’s experience to that of a Kohen who receives his Terumah and Maaser (sanctified foods) without saying thanks, because he is merely receiving what is his due, and then says thanks when he receives unsanctified food. Along the lines of the Midrashic idea noted above, she was expected to have 3 sons, as that was her due in being one of Yaakov’s 4 wives – acknowledging with a thanks would have been out of place, as that was her presumed destiny. Once she was blessed with a child she wasn’t expecting, or perhaps didn’t even think she deserved, it was proper to give thanks to the Almighty. 

 Hadar Zekenim (an anthology of Tosafists) further adds to her divine inspiration of seeing that Datan and Aviram would come from Reuven, Zimri would come from Shimon, Korach would come from Levi… but Yehuda would not have such descendants causing trouble in the Torah. On the contrary, Yehuda himself would himself “acknowledge” his role with Tamar, thereby saving her and saving her twins, one of whom would become the ancestor of King David. (R Chaim Paltiel – see above – and Daat Zekenim also quotes this) (Another thought is that Kingship has 30 qualities – and “יהודה = 30” in numerical value/gematria.) 

 R Meir Simcha goes in a different direction, noting that there is no blessing for the ability to see, hear, or express emotion. (There are blessings for encounters – such as the ocean, beautiful mountains, lightning – but they are not specific to the ability to see.) There is a blessing for the feeling of ריח – as implied from the last verse in Tehillm 150:6 – a blessing over something from which the soul, but not the body, derives benefit. Note how Leah names Reuven based on sight, Shimon based on hearing, Levi based on emotion (her husband will now want to be with her) – which are the senses that don’t have a bracha! Yehuda is named based on ריח, which is proven based on a verse in Yeshayahu 11:3 that references the branches of Yishai (David’s father), “His spirit will be animated by fear of Hashem…” (Meshech Chokhmah) 

On a relatively simple level of divine inspiration, Netziv suggests she named him seeing he’d be worthy of the name, because people would acknowledge his strength and wisdom!

 Seforno notes that this name has been around before (יהודית – 26:34), and is a combination of thanks united with one of God’s names. (see also the name עמיהוד – Bamidbar 34:20). This explanation is expanded upon by Alshikh. 

Alshikh’s explanation goes back to the name of Levi – noting that Leah said ילוה אישי אלי – my husband will be drawn to me - that she either intended to name her son ילוה or לויה, because other than the letter ל, it contains the letters that make up God’s name. (In God’s name, the ה appears twice, with the other letters being י and ו). She wanted to acknowledge God in that way, but it was ill-timed, because, unbeknownst to her, she was going to have the 4th son! This is why there was intervention (as noted above in the differences of opinion regarding who named Levi) and she did not name Levi. When Yehuda was born, and everything that has been noted until now about Yehuda became clear to her, it became more than appropriate to give him the full name of God, altered with a letter ד, which indicates both an acknowledgement of the foresight in her not having named לוי with the wrong name, as well as her thanks specifically for the 4 (numerical value of the letter ד) sons. 

 I recall a story told of a certain Chassidic rebbe, which actually took place when he was a child. People found him randomly dancing! When they asked him why, he said “We haven’t had much food in the house for the last 3 days. I am very hungry. I wanted to tell God how angry I am at Him! But when I realized I didn’t thank God properly for the many years when things were fine, I figured I should do that first. Only after I’ve expressed my gratitude of ten years through dance and song will I tell him how angry I am over the last three days.” 

We don’t need to make calculations as Leah made to figure what is our due and when we ought to acknowledge God’s goodness and kindnesses, or specifically thank Him. 

Thanksgiving is a yearly reminder of our need to truly thank God daily, and to acknowledge His role in our lives and existence, as we say in the blessing of "מודים" - we praise Him evening, morning, and afternoon (ערב בבקר וצהרים) – day in and day out.