Rabbi Neal's Weekly Commentary

Copyright 2012 Neal Joseph Loevinger

Torah Portion: Vayechi

“Then Yisrael saw Yosef”s sons, and he said, ‘Who are these?’ “ (Bereshit/ Genesis 48:8)

Good morning!

We’re concluding the Book of Bereshit, so it’s not surprising that the two main characters of the latter chapters die in this week’s Torah reading: first Yaakov, then, at the very end, Yosef, the second-in-command of all Egypt. However, the portion is mostly concerned with blessing: first Yaakov adopts Yosef’s sons as his own, blessing them, and then calls all of his sons to his deathbed to bless them and instruct them before he dies.

The scene at the beginning of chapter 48 reminds us of an earlier period of Yaakov’s own life: just as Yaakov’s father Yitzhak was nearly blind, and not quite sure which son he was blessing, so too now Yaakov is described (vs 10) as having eyes “heavy with age.” He seems unable to recognize his grandsons, asking, as in the verse above, who they are, as if perhaps he didn’t see them or isn’t sure if they are the grandsons he is offering to bless.

It’s possible that Ephraim and Menashe were dressed as Egyptian princes rather than Hebrew shepherds, or it’s possible that Yaakov was simply not able to see very well, but given that he’s just offered to bless them, it’s a bit odd that he doesn’t know who they are.  So many commentators take the verse above, ending with the question, “who are these?” as referring not to Yosef’s sons, but to evil kings who will descend from them, a vision which gives Yaakov pause.

One midrash, picked up by our friend Rashi, implies that Yaakov’s eyes were clouded, as it were,  because the Divine Presence withdrew from him as he attempted to bless Ephraim and Menashe, because of these future kings like Achav and Jehu who would descend from them. This is also a problem: why would some future wicked king impede Yaakov’s blessing of his grandsons? After all, any stain on their future history is also a stain on his. I think this is why Rashi splits this midrash up into two pieces: first he brings the text  about the Divine Presence withdrawing from Yaakov in the first part of the verse, but when Yaakov asks” “who are these [young men]?” Rashi interpolates “who are these who are unworthy of blessing?”

Yet that question- who are these who are unworthy of blessing? – could be read more than one way: it could refer to the midrash about Ephraim and Menashe’s evil descendants, or it could be a rhetorical question: who are these young men that we might deem them unworthy of blessing for something that is not their fault? Or, even more pointedly- who am I  to say that they are unworthy of blessing since their descendants are also my own?

Read this way, Rashi’s comment turns Yaakov’s question around: it’s not about some future event seen by prophecy, but about his own humility in offering blessings to his grandsons just as they are. It’s not  about their worthiness, but his own. When Yaakov asks: who are these [young men]?, he might be asking: who am I to dare withhold my blessing when I so brazenly took one that did not belong to me? Seen this way, Yaakov’s question becomes one for all of us: how dare we withhold our blessings from others, even if they are, just like the rest of humanity, imperfect people who do imperfect things?

In the midrash, Yaakov knows that Ephraim and Menashe will have evil men among their descendants, yet nevertheless blesses them and brings them close. So too, we will all encounter others, in our families and congregations and communities, who may have some flaw in them- as do we all- but our job is nevertheless to love and bless and raise up those around us.

Shabbat Shalom,

RNJL

Copyright 2012 Neal Joseph Loevinger

Copyright 2010 Neal Joseph Loevinger

Torah Portion: Vayechi

This week we conclude several stories: the story of Yaakov’s life, the story of the difficult relationship between Yosef and his brothers, and the story of Yosef himself, who dies at the very end of the book of Bereshit, making his surviving brothers swear to bring his bones up out of Egypt when they eventually leave. (Cf. Bereshit/ Genesis 50:24-26.)

Yet between the deaths of Yaakov and Yosef, there is a touching scene upon the return of the brothers from burying their father in the land of Israel: the brothers think that perhaps now, at last, Yosef will take revenge on them for their mistreatment of him decades earlier. He forgives them and reiterates his belief that God intended it for good, to bring him to power in Egypt in order to save the family. (Cf. 50:15-19.) The Torah begins this story with a detail that seems unnecessary at best :

^“When Yosef’s brothers saw that their father was dead, they said, ‘What if Yosef still bears a grudge against us and pays us back for all the wrong that we did him! ‘ ” (50:15)

Rashi asks the obvious question: what’s up with telling us that Yosef’s brothers “saw that their father was dead?” They had all just come back from a long journey to bury him! Not only that- but we already know they are Yosef’s brothers and not somebody else’s brothers, so that’s another extra word- unless it was merely corroborative detail, intended to give artistic verisimilitude to an otherwise bald and unconvincing narrative.*

To which Rashi might say- if he were in a Gilbert and Sullivan operetta: corroborative fiddlestick!

Rather, Rashi understands verse 15 to be all of one piece: that is, the brothers saw the death of their father through Yosef, that is, Yosef’s actions. “Saw” in this reading is not a physical seeing, but understanding the significance of something. Rashi says that the brothers “saw” [ that is, fully understood the implications of ] Yaakov’s death when Yosef’s behavior changed, inasmuch as he would usually invite them to dine at his royal table, by way of honoring their father Yaakov. When their father died, Yosef didn’t invite them-  literally, “bring them close”- as he did before.

Rashi’s interpretation of the Torah’s phrasing offers us one answer as to why the brothers would suddenly fear that Yosef would take revenge on them, yet we might also say that if Yosef wanted to harm them, he had ample time and opportunity to do so without waiting till they all got home and settled. Thus, I think Rashi’s reading also illustrates another important principle: namely, we often have no idea what other people are thinking, and sometimes interpret their actions (a dinner invitation, or lack thereof) on the basis of our own fears, anxieties, guilt, or resentment. It seems to me that Yosef’s brothers are themselves revisiting their actions, and imagining that Yosef is feeling the same negative emotions that they are.

Taking this midrash at face value, we might further see this episode this as a sad miscommunication, with Yosef’s brothers unable to perceive his grief over their father’s death and misinterpreting his reticence as anger at them. Perhaps Yosef was confused as to how to proceed with his brothers, given his high status- maybe he was just as worried that they would resent him and their dependence upon him, as he was, after all, still one of the youngest brothers. People grieve in very different ways: some need time alone, some need time with others, some need to talk, some need to reflect privately, some need to get busy, some need to take quiet walks. Maybe Yosef didn’t invite his brothers to dinner because he didn’t know how to manage his different roles- as politician, father, brother, and grieving son- in the wake of Yaakov’s death.

Transitions are hard, and communicating with those around us at those times can be even harder. Rashi reminds us that it can be a peril to speculate too much about others; seeking to ask and understand without preconception can be a surer path to peace.

Shabbat Shalom,

RNJL

*Click here if you don’t get the reference.

Copyright Neal Joseph Loevinger 2009

Dear Friends- greetings from the Jersey shore, where we’ve temporarily relocated our Torah commentary production facilities during a few weeks of packing and moving. (All local, no worries.) My apologies for missing last week and I’m glad to be with you again.

This week’s Torah reading concludes the book of Bereshit [Genesis], along with the long narrative arcs of the story of Yaakov and his sons. Yet more than only wrapping up the stories of Yaakov, Yosef, and the rest of the brothers, the final portion of Bereshit concludes one of the largest themes of the entire book, which is: how shall brothers dwell together in peace, especially when they must share their father’s blessing?

If you’ll recall, brothers don’t fare so well in Bereshit: Cain and Abel, Noach’s sons, Yitzhak and Yishmael, Yaakov and Esav, Yosef and his brothers- all stories of conflict. At the end of the story, however, we find Yaakov in Egypt, taking Yosef’s two sons as his own, offering them a blessing, but blessing the younger before the older- a setup for anger and blame, if the past is prelude.

First Yaakov blesses the boys out of his own personal history:

“The Angel who has redeemed me from all harm —
Bless the lads.
In them may my name be recalled,
And the names of my fathers Avraham and Yitzhak,
And may they be teeming multitudes upon the earth.” (Bereshit 48:16)

and then, a few verses later, blesses them with a wish for all future generations:

“So he blessed them on that day, saying, ‘With you, Israel will bless, saying, ‘May God make you like Ephraim and like Manashe,’ ‘ and he placed Ephraim before Manashe. ” (48:20)

Verse 20, above, makes it directly into our contemporary practice just as the Torah spells out: to this day, when parents bless boys, they bless them that they should be like Ephraim and Menashe. There are many, many explanations for why this is, but perhaps the simplest is that after generations of conflict over unequal blessings, Ephraim and Menashe seem content to live with each other, despite the inequities and imperfections of the world. Would that all our brothers and sisters (in both the literal and larger meanings of the words) would live peaceably with each other despite life not being fair all the time!

Yet verse 16 is also an important verse liturgically, showing up as part of the “bedtime Shma” [which is the Shma along with other verses and prayers said in bed right before sleeping] and is also recited in many traditions on Saturday night, at the conclusion of Shabbat. To me, what’s interesting about verse 16 is Yaakov’s framing of his own story: that an angel redeemed him from all harm and should similarly protect his grandsons. Rashi says this specifically refers to the angel who appeared in chapter 31 but to me it seems more of a general reflection on his life’s journeys.

Of course, Yaakov’s life was one of struggle, toil and danger, and perhaps only in retrospect was he able to have a sense of redemption. He specifically wants Ephraim and Menashe to be the agents wherein he- Yaakov- along with Avraham and Yitzhak, will be remembered, yet one might imagine that he hopes that his grandson’s life will be a bit easier than his was.

To me, the practice of reciting verse 16 at moments of transition- from waking to sleep, from Shabbat to the work week- suggests that what we’re asking for is not only protection, per se, but a sense of perspective, a sense of life’s progress having great meaning despite the temporary struggles. We want to remember that just as we recall our ancestors, someday, God willing, someone will remember us; history will unfold through us to future generations.

That, to me, is how Yaakov was blessing the boys: to remember the story of their ancestors and derive strength from it. That in turn might cultivate an awareness that they too will be somebody’s ancestors- and how might we all live differently with a constant consciousness that future generations may someday recall our stories? Perhaps this is what is means to be like Ephraim and Menashe- to be rooted in history but oriented towards the future.

Shabbat Shalom,

RNJL

P.S.- you’ll find the Torah readings here and a guide to the practice of blessing one’s children here.

Copyright 2011 Neal Joseph Loevinger

Torah Portion: Vayechi

This week we are not only concluding the book of Bereshit/Genesis with
the Torah portion Vayechi, we are also continuing another story we
started a few weeks ago, the story of King David’s death and the
succession of his son Shlomo to the throne.

The two stories- Avraham/Yitzhak/Yaakov and David/Shlomo and his
brothers, are connected by the haftarot (plural of haftarah) for the
Torah portions Chayei Sarah and this week’s portion, Vayechi. In
Chayei Sarah, Avraham arranges for his servant to find a wife for his
son Yitzhak, and is finally buried by both Yitzhak and Yishmael after
taking another wife and having more children in his final years. The
haftarah for Chayei Sarah is the opening chapter of 1 Kings, in which
King David is old but his family is divided, with tension and intrigue
between his sons over the succession to the throne.

This week, it is Yaakov who is near death, but in his final days he
“adopts” Yosef’s sons as his own and blesses each of his sons with a
special, personal blessing. Then the haftarah picks up the story of
King David again, in 1 Kings chapter 2: Shlomo (Solomon) is
established as the next king, and David, on his deathbed, gives him
both a general moral exhortation and some very specific instructions
regarding “unfinished business” left over from David’s ascent to power
and long reign.

There is a clear contrast between Yaakov’s blessing of his sons and
David’s request to Shlomo that he take revenge on men who betrayed and
insulted him. It’s quite moving that Yaakov took in Yosef’s sons as
his own, while one feels the tension and strife in David’s household
as the sons compete for power. Remember, too, that years earlier, one
of David’s sons (Avshalom) had murdered another son, his half-brother
Amnon, and Avshalom himself died in a coup attempt some time after
that. (Cf. 2 Samuel 14-20)

So we might look at the two stories of Yaakov and David as different
models of relationship, and on a superficial level, one might say that
the message here is to look at one’s own way of relating to the world-
do we wish to leave a legacy of blessing, like Yaakov, or strife and
revenge, like David?

Yet it’s not so simple, because Yaakov- like David- also had sons who
struggled with each other and Yaakov himself cheated his own brother
and had to go into exile as a consequence. Here’s my interpretation:
the real contrast in these two stories is not in the fathers, but in
the sons. Shlomo, when he becomes king, indeed takes revenge on his
father’s enemies- his reign begins with blood and vengeance.

Yosef, on the other hand, has the power of vengeance in his hands, and
doesn’t use it. In the very last chapter of Bereshit, after Yaakov is
buried, Yosef’s brothers come to him, fearing he will at last take
revenge now that Yaakov is gone- but he doesn’t do it, and instead
promises to sustain them in his role as prime minister of Egypt.

Change is hard- all kinds of emotions are unleashed when families,
groups or even societies go through transitions, even happy ones. Our
challenge is to use every transition as an opportunity to start anew,
letting go of unnecessary resentments and past hurts. What a shame
that David couldn’t do that even on his deathbed, and even Shlomo, the
wise ruler, was not wise enough to avoid taking on his father’s
“unfinished business.”

Yosef, on the other hand, is often called a “tzaddik,” or righteous
man, perhaps precisely because of this: he knew when to forgive and
start anew.

Shabbat shalom,

RNJL

Copyright 2011 Neal Joseph Loevinger

Torah Portion: Vayechi

This week we conclude the book of Bereshit/Genesis: the grand journey of Yaakov’s life is concluded with
his final return to the Land of Israel, where he is buried by his sons
in the cave purchased by his grandfather Avraham. After Yosef and his
brothers return to Egypt, the brothers are quite understandably
concerned that Yosef may finally exact revenge for their violence
against him when they were younger:

“Now Yosef’s brothers saw that their father had died, and they said,
‘Perhaps Yosef will hate us and return to us all the evil that we did
to him.’ So they commanded [messengers to go] to Yosef , to say, ‘Your
father commanded [us] before his death, saying, ‘So shall you say to
Yosef : please, forgive now your brothers’ transgression and their
sin, for they did evil to you. Now please forgive the transgression of
the servants of the God of your father.’ ‘ Yosef wept when they spoke
to him. ” (Bereshit/Genesis 50:15-17)

This passage has inspired veritable rivers of commentary, because of a
neon-bright textual problem: there is no record in the Torah of Yaakov
saying what the brothers reported. Thus, Rashi (basing himself on
older sources) makes the obvious conclusion: the brothers lied about
their father’s putative plea so that there would be peace in the family.

That’s the bad news. The good news is, well, it seems to have worked,
and in fact, most commentators don’t have a problem with this
particular instance of lying, precisely because it leads to an
ethically desirable result: peace between the brothers. In general,
the Torah condemns lying and falsehood, as in, for example:

“You shall not bear false witness” (Shmot/Exodus 20:13)

“Keep far from a false matter” (Shmot 23:7)

“Neither shall you deal falsely nor lie to one another”
(Vayikra/Leviticus 19:11)

One could argue that these mitzvot have a juridical context- that is,
witnessing and legal testimony- but it’s still clear that our system
of religious ethics has truth-telling and integrity as a core value.
Still, the point that Rashi and others make is that truth in itself is
not the ultimate value; peace and human dignity may in certain
instances be a higher value. This makes sense when one considers the
underlying reason that truth is a value in the first place: when
people can’t trust each other, whether in the marketplace or the
courtroom or anywhere else, they cannot build bonds of intimacy,
caring, and justice.

Detailed discussions of these principles can be found in the links
below, but for today, it’s enough to point out that refraining from
lies is a clear principle of Jewish ethics and practice. However, in
certain extraordinary circumstances, it <may> be permissible to
“fudge” the truth or even lie in order to achieve peace,
reconciliation, or human dignity. “Shalom” is understood to be one of
the names of God in the Jewish tradition, and thus we do not condemn
Yosef’s brothers for bending the truth for the sake of life and peace.

Shabbat Shalom,

RNJL

Copyright 2011 Neal Joseph Loevinger

Torah Portion: Vayechi

Shalom and happy new Gregorian year! It’s a new year on the date line
of your checks, but we are still reading from the book of
Bereshit/Genesis, just finishing it up this week with Vayechi, during
which Yaakov dies and is taken back to the Land of Israel, and Yosef
dies and makes his brothers promise to take his bones back to the Land
when they return.

However, in between those two dramatic moments is another: after
Yaakov dies, the ten brothers who sold Yosef into slavery become
worried that now he’ll take revenge on them. After all, he’s still the
Prime Minister of Egypt and they are just shepards out in the
boondocks- they are dependent on him and it’s reasonable for them to
assume that their father’s death might change the emotional dynamics
in the family. However, Yosef seems to forgive them, noting that
everything worked out for the best in the end:

“But Yosef said to them, ‘Have no fear! Am I a substitute for God?
Besides, although you intended me harm, God intended it for good, so
as to bring about the present result — the survival of many people.
And so, fear not. I will sustain you and your children.’ Thus he
reassured them, speaking kindly to them.” (Bereshit/Genesis 50:19-21)

The last few words of verse 21 are actually a bit more poetic than
rendered in the JPS translation quoted above: the Torah says that
Yosef spoke “al libam,” or “to their hearts.” Picking up on this
emotional language, a rabbi of the Talmud [in tractate Megillah, 16b]
explained that Yosef spoke words which were accepted by the hearts of
his brothers- that is, that he was effective in comforting and
reassuring them. He (R. Binyamin bar Yafet, in the name of R.
Eleazar), goes on to say that Yosef offered his brothers a parable,
which helped them understand that he harbored no ill will:

“If ten lights could not extinguish one light, how could one light
extinguish ten lights?”

A simple explanation of the parabel is that if the ten brothers could
not harm Yosef, because it was God’s will that Yosef would become a
ruler in Egypt, then certainly he, Yosef, cannot bring harm to his ten
brothers if they are destined to live and return to the Land. Yet
what’s fascinating about R. Binyamin’s midrash is that he imagines
Yosef speaking of his life, and the lives of his brothers, as light,
which seems to be a symbol of soul or spirit, connecting the life of a
person with the Light of God.

Perhaps R. Binyamin imagines Yosef as reminding his brothers that he
and they are not prisoners of the emotional past, enslaved by the
desire for revenge, but spiritual beings, children of the Living God,
who can always choose the way of holiness. The children of Avraham and
Sarah, of Yitzhak and Rivka, of Yaakov (who becomes Yisrael) and
Rachel and Leah are meant to be bearers of light, not of vengeance.
Thus it is incumbent upon them- and us, their spiritual heirs- to
choose forgiveness over grievance, to choose reconciliation over
resentment, to choose awareness of our spiritual gifts rather than
being mired in old hurts. In this way, light is added to light, and
the world is illuminated with love and grace.

Shabbat Shalom,

RNJL

Copyright 2011 Neal Joseph Loevinger

Torah Portion: Vayechi

I don’t know about you, but for me, wearing just a sweatshirt outside when
thinking about
parshat Vayechi- at least in New England- is what you’d call cognitive
dissonance, of a
atmospheric sort, I guess. Usually, we’re reading about Yaakov’s final blessings
to his sons
when it’s cold and wintery, but today was warm- perhaps appropriate for thinking
about
our ancestors in Egypt.

When Yaakov grows old and sick, he trusts Yosef with burial instructions, but
then it
seems like Yosef goes back to work, and doesn’t notice that his father is
growing weaker
by the day. Here’s what the Torah tells us about Yosef going to see his dying
father:

“Now it came to pass after these incidents that it was told to Yosef, `Behold,
your father is
ill.’ So he took his two sons with him, Menashe and Efraim. And it was told to
Yaakov and
said, `Behold, your son Yosef is coming to you.’ And Israel summoned his
strength and sat
up on the bed.” (Bereshit/Genesis 48:1-2)

Reading these verses again this year, it occurred to me to ask a question that
I’ve never
considered: who was it who told Yosef that Yaakov was sick, and was that the
same person
who told Yaakov that Yosef was on his way? The commentators propose various
theories,
which include the possibility that it was one of Yosef’s sons, or one of his
brothers, or
perhaps Yaakov sent a messenger to his son (who lived far away in the capital,
and still
served as Prime Minister.)

At least two medieval commentators (Ibn Ezra and Rashbam – the latter was
Rashi’s
grandson) think that it’s the same person delivering messages in both
directions, which
makes sense to me: it feels to me like there is a caring person in the
background,
someone who knows that Yosef is busy but who also sees that Yaakov must see his
beloved son and bless him before he dies. One reason I think there is only one
unnamed
messenger is that there is a key word common to both verses: “hinei,” translated
here as
“behold.” It conveys a sense of immediacy, a sense that matters are pressing and
real:
“Yosef, your father is really sick, right now,” and “Yaakov, your son Yosef is
coming to see
you very soon.”

Perhaps this person was a member of the family, or perhaps this person was sent
from
Yaakov’s retinue- that’s not clear, but what is clear is that a few simple words
changed the
course of this family’s history, and our own. It’s easy to imagine that a busy
son- the
Prime Minister! – didn’t fully grasp how sick his father was; this unnamed
messenger
helped Yosef understand that nothing was as important as seeing his father, and
doing so
with alacrity. Rushing back to Goshen, ahead of Yosef, the messenger told Yaakov
that
Yosef was coming very soon- perhaps this hope, that he could see and bless his
son, is
what enabled Yaakov to “summon his strength” and sit up until Yosef arrived. (As
an
aside- working in a hospital, one often hears stories about dying people holding
on until
family arrives.)

Thus, not only was it an act of hesed for a son to see his dying father, but
giving his final
blessing to Yosef and Yosef’s sons, along with the other brothers, seems to help
Yaakov
die in peace. It was hesed to receive the blessing, and it was hesed to give it;
neither
would have been possible if this unnamed messenger had not been keenly aware of
the
emotional needs of Yosef and his father. This unnamed messenger saw deeply what
others
did not, and because of his powers of insight and his true caring, he changed
the course
of history, enabling the blessing of Yaakov to include Efraim and Menashe as
full tribes of
Israel. A few words of insight, spoken at just the right time, affected the
course of life and
death, and brought great blessing into the world- all we have to do is care
enough to
speak them.

Shabbat Shalom,

RNJL

PS- A slightly expanded and different version of this drasha will be given by
yours truly at
the Cambridge Minyan (at Congregation Eitz Chayim) this Shabbat morning- do drop
by!

PPS- Here’s the link to a summary of the parsha:

http://www.myjewishlearning.com/texts/Weekly_Torah_Commentary/
vayechi_summary.htm

and here’s the link to the text of the parsha, plus another great commentary
from one of
my former teachers:

http://www.jtsa.edu/community/parashah/index.shtml

Copyright 2011 Neal Joseph Loevinger

Torah Portion: Vayechi

Let our learning this week be dedicated to the memory of Bill
Wallen, whose recent and tragic passing has left the North Shore
Jewish community bereft of one who loved the Torah and the Jewish
people. May his memory be a blessing.

This week we conclude the Book of Bereshit (Genesis). The Torah
portion, Vayechi, brings back Yaakov as a major character, now that
he and his family have been reunited under Yosef’s care in Egypt.
Yaakov blesses his children and grandchildren before he dies, and
makes Yosef promise to bring him back to the Land of Israel to be
buried. Yosef does so, but shortly after he returns from this solemn
mission, old frictions bubble up again. Yosef’s brothers, still
fearing that he wants to take revenge for selling him into slavery
so many years before, send him a message, telling him that their
father Yaakov wanted only forgiveness between his sons after his
death. The brothers were so afraid of Yosef’s power as Prime
Minister that they didn’t even approach him directly, but instead
sent him a message via a third party.

This plea for forgiveness affects Yosef powerfully; the Torah tells
us that he weeps openly as it is being read. (Bereshit 50:17)
Hearing this, the brothers go directly to him, where he tells them:

“Have no fear! Am I in God’s place? Although you intended me
harm, God intended it for good, so as to bring about this result, the survival of many
people till this day. So don’t be afraid- I will sustain you and
your children.” (50:18-20)

A couple of things are interesting about this part of the story.
First, the Torah never tells us that Yaakov actually did sent a
posthumous message to Yosef, asking him to forgive his brothers- if
they were lying, perhaps it was acceptable for the sake of bringing
about peace within the family. Or, more simply, they thought this is
what their father <would> have wanted.

Secondly, notice how Yosef reacts to his brother’s suspicion of
him- he weeps openly at the mere mention of it. Is this because he
realizes that as Prime Minister, he can never be “one of the
guys,” a regular member of the family, which seems to have been his desire
since he was a young man? Or it because he realizes that his
brothers have good reason to fear him, and that he’s never fully
convinced them (or perhaps himself) of his forgiveness? After all,
the family has been living together in Egypt for 17 years; perhaps
Yosef realizes that those years in which he thought he had achieved
reconciliation did not bring the full closeness with his brothers
that he seems to have hoped for when he first reveals himself.

It was pointed out to me at Shabbat dinner last week (by Nikki
Greenspan), a student at the Conservative Yeshiva here in Jerusalem)
that Yosef does not cry or display much emotion when he is first
betrayed by his brothers, nor even when he’s thrown into prison
by Pharoah. He only regains his emotions later in life, perhaps because
he’s able to feel more acutely the loss of relationship that has
happened between himself and his brothers, and the subsequent joy in
regaining it. Yet evidently, even years after he reveals that the
Prime Minister of Egypt is the brother they sold into slavery,
evidently Yosef has not totally “found his brothers,” to
hearken back to the image of when he was first separated from them.

Perhaps we can learn from this the painful lesson that trust
regained may be more fragile that trust never broken. I think of
this especially as I sit in the Conservative Yeshiva, just a
kilometer from Arab East Jerusalem; even if a peace agreement were
signed and approved tomorrow, it might be many years before all the
suspicions between the Jews and the Arabs were healed. In the United
States, our leaders- were they capable of such things- might well
weep like Yosef to think of how deeply divided our society is, with
such burning mistrust between different groups and constituencies,
and their own responsibility for deepening these divisions.

Closer to home, we can only strive for Yosef’s path to forgiving
our friend and neighbor, by placing our trust in a loving God who lets
us find wisdom and meaning in our troubles; this does not excuse the
terrible choices that people make, but allows us to turn those
choices from the bad to the good, as Yosef points out. At the end of
the Book of Genesis, with so many troubled sets of brothers –
Cain and Abel, Noah’s sons, Yitzhak and Yishmael, Yaakov and Esav-
these brothers have finally learned that it’s a constant challenge of
self- reflection to live at peace with each other. We search ourselves for
the wisdom to live with others, and pray for the humility to forgive-
that’s the model of human kindness with which Bereshit concludes.

Copyright 2011 Neal Joseph Loevinger

Torah Portion: Vayechi

This d’var Torah was originally distributed by Kolel: The Adult Center for Jewish Learning during the year 5761 and can be found in its archives.

VaYehi (Gen. 47:28-50:26)

OVERVIEW

Yaakov and all his descendants are reunited in Egypt under Yosef’s protection. Yaakov is close to death, so he blesses Yosef’s two children as his own, reversing his hands so that the younger is blessed in the manner of the older son. This time, however, there is no acrimony between brothers. Yaakov calls all his sons to his deathbed and speaks a kind of ethical will and final blessing. Yaakov dies, and is taken by Yosef and the family to be buried in the Land of Israel. Thinking that Yosef may now take revenge, the brothers fear for their lives, but Yosef forgives them for selling him into slavery, reminding them that God has brought them to Egypt for a reason. Yosef dies, and asks to be taken up to Israel when the Israelite nation eventually leaves Egypt.

IN FOCUS

“. . . . and Yisrael bowed down upon the head of the bed ” (Genesis 47:31)

PSHAT

Yaakov, here called Yisrael, feels that his end is near, and so makes Yosef swear that he will bring Yaakov’s body back to the Land of Israel after his passing. After pressuring Yosef to make this oath, he bows down on or by his sickbed.

DRASH

It’s not exactly clear why or to whom Yaakov would bow after making Yosef swear his oath. One could say that Yaakov was bowing to Yosef himself, who was like a king in Egypt, but some commentators say that ordinarily a parent would not humble themselves before a child. Perhaps it was a gesture of acceptance; Yaakov had to accept both his impending death and the fact that only Yosef had the power to carry out his desire to be buried in the Land of Israel.

Rashi says that Yaakov was not bowing to Yosef, but to God:

He [Yaakov] turned himself in the direction of the Divine Presence. [Shechina] From this passage [the sages] have said that the Shechina is above the head of one who is sick.

Rashi’s midrash is based on statements found in the Talmud, and it’s easy to see how this teaching would bring strength and comfort to the sick or dying. It is a beautiful theology, imagining the Presence of God “hovering” (as it were) over someone who is suffering. This image of God helps us to understand that God can be present with us in sad or tragic times, even if “miracles” don’t seem to be forthcoming. In this case, Rashi imagines Yaakov bowing out of humility before the Holy One, Whom Yaakov perceived as present, near his sickbed. (Actually, in another place Rashi seems to imply that Yaakov could have indeed been bowing to Yosef, but that’s for a different day.)

Commenting on this midrash, the Hasidic master Rabbi Nachman of Bratzlav offers a psychological insight into Rashi’s midrash:

The reason for this is that even a very evil person has thoughts of t’shuvah in this time [i.e., upon a sickbed.] (Source: Itturei Torah.)

T’shuvah is commonly translated as “repentance,” but it comes from the word meaning “turn,” or “return.” T’shuvah involves introspection and “soul-accounting,” and making amends for whatever wrongs we have caused. Thus R. Nachman is saying that just being sick, in itself, doesn’t bring the Shechina, but rather that God is felt to be Present when a human being is asking hard questions about life, looking deeply into his or her own soul and struggling to do the right thing. It’s the wrestling with conscience that opens up this level of spirituality, not the illness, which just gives us a chance to do the thinking.

Now, please understand, when a text says that God, or the Shechina, is present, it doesn’t mean that God is absent or missing at other times- I believe these texts are talking about what we perceive and feel. Sometimes we feel that God is closer, and sometimes farther away. What we learn from R. Nachman is that our spiritual perception is not determined by the fact of external circumstances that, but rather how we react to our situation. “Turning” our hearts is a precondition to feeling the presence of the sacred; without openness, inwardness and humility, the Divine Presence might be close indeed, but we’d never notice.