"לָכֵן אֱמר לִבְנֵי-יִשְׂרָאֵל: אֲנִי יְהוָה, וְהוֹצֵאתִי אֶתְכֶם מִתַּחַת סִבְלת מִצְרַיִם, וְהִצַּלְתִּי אֶתְכֶם מֵעֲבדָתָם, וְגָאַלְתִּי אֶתְכֶם בִּזְרוֹעַ נְטוּיָה וּבִשְׁפָטִים גְּדלִים. וְלָקַחְתִּי אֶתְכֶם לִי לְעָם, וְהָיִיתִי לָכֶם לֵאלהִים; וִידַעְתֶּם, כִּי אֲנִי יְהוָה אֱלֹהֵיכֶם, הַמּוֹצִיא אֶתְכֶם מִתַּחַת סִבְלוֹת מִצְרָיִם. - Therefore say to the children of Israel: I am the Lord, and I will bring you out from under the burdens of Egypt, and I will deliver you from their servitude, and I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and with great judgments. And I will take you to Me for a people, and I will be to you a God; and you shall know that I am the Lord your God, who takes you out from under the burdens of Egypt."
(Exodus 6: 6-7)
The first part of this week's D'var Torah is taken from the Ma'ayanei HaTorah, which cites Chidushei HaRim. It is written there that the ten plagues we read about during the course of this week's and next week's parsha readings are linked to the utterances with which the world was created (Pirkei Avot 5:1). There were ten of those, too, but the link goes a lot deeper than just that.
As the Chidushei HaRim explains, the ten utterances which caused the creation of the world acted to codify the laws of nature. As a result, it became impossible to observe the supernatural wonder of nature. In Jewish mystical thought, there is a concept of constriction - that God had to somehow contrain His eternal and omnipotent Self in a way conducive to forging the world as we know it. God effectively hid Himself through His acts of creation.
In a similar fashion, the ten plagues that are unleashed upon the unwitting Egyptians were directly related to each of these utterances. Step by step, they served to peel back the layers and reveal Hashem's presence in the world to one and all, that there is a creator and there does exist such a thing as an administrator of the universe who can change the rules of nature as He so wishes. Moreover, these ten plagues paved the path for the Jews to leave Egypt in a blaze of glory and made possible the ultimate revelation later on at Sinai. The ten plagues were not merely punishments for the Egyptians' oppression of the Jews; they also served to make a very strong statement about the nature of this world.
The relevance of the insight above is made apparent by something I read a few p'sukim later in verse 9: " וַיְדַבֵּר מֹשֶׁה כֵּן, אֶל-בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל; וְלֹא שָׁמְעוּ אֶל-מֹשֶׁה מִקֹּצֶר רוּחַ וּמֵעֲבֹדָה קָשָׁה. - And so Moshe spoke to the children of Israel; but they did not hearken Moshe because of shortness of wind and for hard bondage." The verse seems simple enough, but the Meshech Chochmah explains that Moshe chose his words very carefully. His people were under extreme stress and were unable to listen to him. Had he told anyone that "Everything's going to be alright - God is going to save us all in the close future", he would have likely been completely ignored. Anyone who is experiencing such severe trouble simply cannot pay attention to the future; they are instead preocuppied with the present. As such, Hashem instructed Moshe to speak in the present tense and let them know that their redemption was imminent.
Returning to the first part of this D'var Torah, we may now understand just how vital it was for Hashem to perform these miracles. It wasn't just for the Egyptians. It was for the generation of Jews who never knew their forefathers and foremothers. They had never witnessed the miracles that Avraham, Yitzchak and Ya'akov had. They barely knew what it meant to be Jewish. As such, the ten plagues allowed them to be liberated from the oppression of being limited and bound to nature. When they saw Hashem's hand behind nature, they were able to set out on the road that took them out of Egypt and home to Israel.
Wishing you a Shabbat Shalom.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Parshat Sh'mot - פרשת שמות
"וְלא-יָכְלָה עוד, הַצפִינו, וַתקח-לו תבַת גמֶא, וַתחְמְרָה בַחֵמָר ובַזפֶת; וַתשם בה אֶת-הַיּלֶד, וַתּשׂם בּסוף עַל-שׂפַת הַיְאר - And when she could no longer hide him, she took for him an ark of bulrushes, and daubed it with slime and with pitch; and she put the child in it, and laid it in the flags by the river's brink."
(שמות ב:ג)
This week's Parsha, Sh'mot, marks the beginning of the second book of the Torah. The Jews had been plunged into crisis with the evil decree issued by Par'oh that all male babies born that day would be killed. (Intriguingly, the commentries note that Egyptian baby boys born then were murdered too, such was their desperation to see the future Jewish leader seen off.)
In the verse above, we read of how that great leader, Moshe Rabbeinu, who we learn was born 3 months prematurely, came to an age where he was impossible to hide. Because of the severe penalty for hiding a male baby from the Egyptian authorities, it was decided that he would have to be taken out of his home.
In a conversation with a friend previously, I noted that pitch is used when the Torah relates the story of Noach's ark. There, it uses the phrase, "כָפַרְתָּ אֹתָהּ מִבַּיִת וּמִחוּץ, בַּכֹּפֶר - and you shall pitch it, within and without, with pitch." Although the term is different, there is more than a passing resemblance between the two episodes, for Moshe's little ark was also smeared with a dark, sticky substance.
My friend answered me by saying that there is indeed a connection between the two episodes. He explained that Noach lived at a time during which there was the greatest destruction the world has ever known. Why was there such destruction? Not because the people were exceedingly wicked - for they were not. Rather, this generation was actually one of the most knowledgeable generations that ever existed. The problem, however, was that they used their wisdom to their own ends. For example, we learn that the people of the time knew that one who stole less than "shava pruta," (a minute amount) would not be considered cuplable. (I forget the source, but I believe that it comes from a Midrash.) They would therefore feel free to steal from one another in a manner that exploited and abused this loophole in Biblical law.
The reason that this generation was punished so heavily was that it was a generation with unusually high potential. It could have become the generation to receive the Torah from God, but because the people were so perverse in their way of thinking, they merited destruction by being drowned in the מבול, the great flood that immersed the entire world. There is a saying in Judaism that אין מים אלא תורה, there's no water other than Torah, and here we see an expression of that: whereas this generation might have been deserving of receiving (and being immeresed in) the Torah, because of the way they acted, they received, and were immeresed under the thing that we equate Torah to - water.
By way of contrast, the generations that came to Egypt were considered worthy of redemption, even though they had sunk to a very low level. But if they had sunk to such a low level, why was it that then that they deserved the miracles of the exodus and receipt of the Torah?
We may answer this question by looking at the opening words of the Parsha: "וְאֵלֶּה, שְׁמוֹת בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל, הַבָּאִים, מִצְרָיְמָה: אֵת יַעֲקֹב, אִישׁ וּבֵיתוֹ בָּאוּ - Now these are the names of the sons of Yisrael, who coming into Egypt with Ya'akov; every man came with his household."
The phrasing of this verse seems odd - why does it say both הַבָּאִים and בָּאוּ? One word means "coming" in the present tense, and the other means "came," which is in the past tense. What is the explanation for this anomoly. The way to understand this, posits Rav Yehoshua of Belz, is that while the Jewish nation undeniably had come, (in the past tense) to Egypt, they were only present physically. We learn that they did not integrate fully or take on Egyptian names. This generation always saw themselves as being in exile, as temporary residents of Egypt. Due to this clear perception of their impermanent status in a foreign land, they deserved their eventual redemption, the receipt of (and immersal in,) the Torah, and ultimately their return to their ancestral homeland in Israel.
If we compare the two cases, the differences are clear. While one generation acted in a way that was technically pious, they were wicked to the core. The other generation, while almost completely rotten, was careful to never sink down that bit too far. By maintaing their identity, they kept their souls intact and merited redemption. I think we can take this message to heart, too. Many times we feel as if we are slipping religiously. But if we ask ourselves who we are at our core, we know what kind of people we want to be. So long as we preseve that concept of ourselves, we are never too far away from returning to our true selves.
Wishing you a Shabbat Shalom!
(שמות ב:ג)
This week's Parsha, Sh'mot, marks the beginning of the second book of the Torah. The Jews had been plunged into crisis with the evil decree issued by Par'oh that all male babies born that day would be killed. (Intriguingly, the commentries note that Egyptian baby boys born then were murdered too, such was their desperation to see the future Jewish leader seen off.)
In the verse above, we read of how that great leader, Moshe Rabbeinu, who we learn was born 3 months prematurely, came to an age where he was impossible to hide. Because of the severe penalty for hiding a male baby from the Egyptian authorities, it was decided that he would have to be taken out of his home.
In a conversation with a friend previously, I noted that pitch is used when the Torah relates the story of Noach's ark. There, it uses the phrase, "כָפַרְתָּ אֹתָהּ מִבַּיִת וּמִחוּץ, בַּכֹּפֶר - and you shall pitch it, within and without, with pitch." Although the term is different, there is more than a passing resemblance between the two episodes, for Moshe's little ark was also smeared with a dark, sticky substance.
My friend answered me by saying that there is indeed a connection between the two episodes. He explained that Noach lived at a time during which there was the greatest destruction the world has ever known. Why was there such destruction? Not because the people were exceedingly wicked - for they were not. Rather, this generation was actually one of the most knowledgeable generations that ever existed. The problem, however, was that they used their wisdom to their own ends. For example, we learn that the people of the time knew that one who stole less than "shava pruta," (a minute amount) would not be considered cuplable. (I forget the source, but I believe that it comes from a Midrash.) They would therefore feel free to steal from one another in a manner that exploited and abused this loophole in Biblical law.
The reason that this generation was punished so heavily was that it was a generation with unusually high potential. It could have become the generation to receive the Torah from God, but because the people were so perverse in their way of thinking, they merited destruction by being drowned in the מבול, the great flood that immersed the entire world. There is a saying in Judaism that אין מים אלא תורה, there's no water other than Torah, and here we see an expression of that: whereas this generation might have been deserving of receiving (and being immeresed in) the Torah, because of the way they acted, they received, and were immeresed under the thing that we equate Torah to - water.
By way of contrast, the generations that came to Egypt were considered worthy of redemption, even though they had sunk to a very low level. But if they had sunk to such a low level, why was it that then that they deserved the miracles of the exodus and receipt of the Torah?
We may answer this question by looking at the opening words of the Parsha: "וְאֵלֶּה, שְׁמוֹת בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל, הַבָּאִים, מִצְרָיְמָה: אֵת יַעֲקֹב, אִישׁ וּבֵיתוֹ בָּאוּ - Now these are the names of the sons of Yisrael, who coming into Egypt with Ya'akov; every man came with his household."
The phrasing of this verse seems odd - why does it say both הַבָּאִים and בָּאוּ? One word means "coming" in the present tense, and the other means "came," which is in the past tense. What is the explanation for this anomoly. The way to understand this, posits Rav Yehoshua of Belz, is that while the Jewish nation undeniably had come, (in the past tense) to Egypt, they were only present physically. We learn that they did not integrate fully or take on Egyptian names. This generation always saw themselves as being in exile, as temporary residents of Egypt. Due to this clear perception of their impermanent status in a foreign land, they deserved their eventual redemption, the receipt of (and immersal in,) the Torah, and ultimately their return to their ancestral homeland in Israel.
If we compare the two cases, the differences are clear. While one generation acted in a way that was technically pious, they were wicked to the core. The other generation, while almost completely rotten, was careful to never sink down that bit too far. By maintaing their identity, they kept their souls intact and merited redemption. I think we can take this message to heart, too. Many times we feel as if we are slipping religiously. But if we ask ourselves who we are at our core, we know what kind of people we want to be. So long as we preseve that concept of ourselves, we are never too far away from returning to our true selves.
Wishing you a Shabbat Shalom!
Friday, December 17, 2010
Parshat Vayechi - פרשת ויחי
וַיֹּאמֶר יוֹסֵף, אֶל-אָבִיו, בָּנַי הֵם, אֲשֶׁר-נָתַן-לִי אֱלֹהִים בָּזֶה; וַיֹּאמַר, קָחֶם-נָא אֵלַי וַאֲבָרְכֵם - And Yoseph said unto his father: 'They are my sons, whom God has given me here.' And he said: 'Bring them to me, please, and I will bless them.'
Although I have read this passage previously, and heard it discussed during my fifteen-years-plus of education in a Jewish environment, when I read this passage again today, I saw a question that I can't believe I didn't know the answer to.
The event described in the Pasuk above is that of Yaakov, Yoseph's father, blessing Yoseph's sons; Ephraim and Menashe. Intriguingly and famously, Yaakov crosses over his hands so that his right hand falls on Ephraim's head, even though he is the younger son. Noteworthy as this detail is, a lot of "commentary inches" are spent on interpretations as to the meaning behind Yaakov's actions.
That, however, is not what I want to focus on. The most obvious question that may be asked here is why were Ephraim and Menashe blessed before all the other tribes? Indeed, they hardly seem like they should join the rest of the tribes, as they are all brothers, whereas Ephraim and Menashe are only the descendants of one of the brothers. So, we can ask, why are they blessed first, and why do they merit their place as equals amongst their uncles?
Rabbi Shmuel Hominer, in his work, "עבד המלך, Servant of the King," explains exactly why these two young men deserved to join the rest of the tribes. He points out that from all the tribes, only Ephraim and Menashe were born outside of Israel. These two were born in Egypt, as Yaakov notes when he says: "וְעַתָּה שְׁנֵי-בָנֶיךָ הַנּוֹלָדִים לְךָ בְּאֶרֶץ מִצְרַיִם - And now your two sons, who were born unto you in the land of Egypt."
The significance of the brothers' birthplace cannot be understated. Yaakov realised that the blessing he was to give the thirteen brothers were not just for them as people, but for them as heads of tribes, for them as the heads of a future nation. Yaakov chose Ephraim and Menashe because those two knew what it was like to be in exile; away from the holy land. His blessing for them forms a well-known Jewish song, Hamalach Hagoel. The words at the end are particularly noteworthy: "וְיִדְגּוּ לָרֹב, בְּקֶרֶב הָאָרֶץ - and let them grow into a multitude, in the midst of the earth." Yaakov blesses these two brothers, the brothers of exile, that despite all that surrounds them, they (but read we, as all Am Yisrael,) should only grow into a strong and populous nation.
From Yerushalayim, Shabbat Shalom!
Although I have read this passage previously, and heard it discussed during my fifteen-years-plus of education in a Jewish environment, when I read this passage again today, I saw a question that I can't believe I didn't know the answer to.
The event described in the Pasuk above is that of Yaakov, Yoseph's father, blessing Yoseph's sons; Ephraim and Menashe. Intriguingly and famously, Yaakov crosses over his hands so that his right hand falls on Ephraim's head, even though he is the younger son. Noteworthy as this detail is, a lot of "commentary inches" are spent on interpretations as to the meaning behind Yaakov's actions.
That, however, is not what I want to focus on. The most obvious question that may be asked here is why were Ephraim and Menashe blessed before all the other tribes? Indeed, they hardly seem like they should join the rest of the tribes, as they are all brothers, whereas Ephraim and Menashe are only the descendants of one of the brothers. So, we can ask, why are they blessed first, and why do they merit their place as equals amongst their uncles?
Rabbi Shmuel Hominer, in his work, "עבד המלך, Servant of the King," explains exactly why these two young men deserved to join the rest of the tribes. He points out that from all the tribes, only Ephraim and Menashe were born outside of Israel. These two were born in Egypt, as Yaakov notes when he says: "וְעַתָּה שְׁנֵי-בָנֶיךָ הַנּוֹלָדִים לְךָ בְּאֶרֶץ מִצְרַיִם - And now your two sons, who were born unto you in the land of Egypt."
The significance of the brothers' birthplace cannot be understated. Yaakov realised that the blessing he was to give the thirteen brothers were not just for them as people, but for them as heads of tribes, for them as the heads of a future nation. Yaakov chose Ephraim and Menashe because those two knew what it was like to be in exile; away from the holy land. His blessing for them forms a well-known Jewish song, Hamalach Hagoel. The words at the end are particularly noteworthy: "וְיִדְגּוּ לָרֹב, בְּקֶרֶב הָאָרֶץ - and let them grow into a multitude, in the midst of the earth." Yaakov blesses these two brothers, the brothers of exile, that despite all that surrounds them, they (but read we, as all Am Yisrael,) should only grow into a strong and populous nation.
From Yerushalayim, Shabbat Shalom!
Friday, December 10, 2010
Parshat Vayigash - פרשת ויגש
"וְלֹא-יָכֹל יוֹסֵף לְהִתְאַפֵּק לְכֹל הַנִּצָּבִים עָלָיו, וַיִּקְרָא, הוֹצִיאוּ כָל-אִישׁ מֵעָלָי; וְלֹא-עָמַד אִישׁ אִתּוֹ בְּהִתְוַדַּע יוֹסֵף אֶל-אֶחָיו. וַיִּתֵּן אֶת-קֹלוֹ בִּבְכִי; וַיִּשְׁמְעוּ מִצְרַיִם, וַיִּשְׁמַע בֵּית פַּרְעֹה - Then Yoseph could not refrain himself before all them that stood by him and he cried: 'Let every man go out from [before] me.' And there stood no man with him while Yoseph made himself known unto his brothers. And he wept aloud; and the Egyptians heard, and the house of Pharaoh heard."
(בראשית מה:א-ב)
In the two verses above, the story of Yosef and brothers finally reaches its climax. The story is one of the most famous in the Torah, and one I thought I was very familiar with. But maybe familiarity does indeed breed a sense of contempt; this week, for the first time, I noticed a discrepancy in the passage above.
Yoseph, we are told, is unable to bear the pressure any longer. To this end, he clears his court of all observers. So far, so good. But what does the Torah tell us next? That he raises his voice and cries so loudly that all of Egypt knows precisely what is happening. If that's the case, what's the point in instructing all those present to exit the room?
The Radak (if I recall correctly – my Chumash doesn’t have his commentary, unfortunately) presents a novel, yet straightforward, explanation of what is meant by "and the Egyptians heard." He posits that rather than Yoseph's voice - miraculously - carrying over the length and breadth of Egypt, his cry was a normal one and only overheard by a few. From here, the knowledge was passed on by word of mouth.
Not that this event wasn't dramatic enough as it was, but Rav Chasman writes in 'Ohr Yahel' that Yoseph knowingly put himself in a situation of poetentially grave danger. The last time he was alone with his brothers, they sought to kill him. There was no way he could be sure that, given the cicrumstances, one of might not attack him. He took a very real risk in isolating himself so.
With the above in mind, we may understand the depth of Rashi's commentary. Rashi is noted for typically giving the simplest explanation. However, despite his simplicty, there are often complicated concepts and motivations alluded to in his words. When Rashi writes here that Yoseph felt it important to protect his brothers from being embarassed in front of strangers, we may now understand that he wasn't merely writing a simple explanation. Instead, Rashi indicates just how sensitive Yoseph was. Even though he knew that the word would get out in any case, he did his utmost to protect them from unecessary embarrassment. For as long as was possible, Yoseph wanted to protect his brothers. He understood that sooner or later the story would become known, but while he could, he felt it imperative to guard their dignity.
At this point I'd like to mention that a friend of mine pens weekly D'var Torah, too. This week, he wrote that Yoseph was so sensitive to his brothers that there is no evidence in the Torah that Yosef ever let his father Yaakov or brother Binyamin (who wasn't present at his sale) know about this episode at all, such was his concern and sensitivity for his brothers' pride.
Wishing a Shabbat Shalom.
(בראשית מה:א-ב)
In the two verses above, the story of Yosef and brothers finally reaches its climax. The story is one of the most famous in the Torah, and one I thought I was very familiar with. But maybe familiarity does indeed breed a sense of contempt; this week, for the first time, I noticed a discrepancy in the passage above.
Yoseph, we are told, is unable to bear the pressure any longer. To this end, he clears his court of all observers. So far, so good. But what does the Torah tell us next? That he raises his voice and cries so loudly that all of Egypt knows precisely what is happening. If that's the case, what's the point in instructing all those present to exit the room?
The Radak (if I recall correctly – my Chumash doesn’t have his commentary, unfortunately) presents a novel, yet straightforward, explanation of what is meant by "and the Egyptians heard." He posits that rather than Yoseph's voice - miraculously - carrying over the length and breadth of Egypt, his cry was a normal one and only overheard by a few. From here, the knowledge was passed on by word of mouth.
Not that this event wasn't dramatic enough as it was, but Rav Chasman writes in 'Ohr Yahel' that Yoseph knowingly put himself in a situation of poetentially grave danger. The last time he was alone with his brothers, they sought to kill him. There was no way he could be sure that, given the cicrumstances, one of might not attack him. He took a very real risk in isolating himself so.
With the above in mind, we may understand the depth of Rashi's commentary. Rashi is noted for typically giving the simplest explanation. However, despite his simplicty, there are often complicated concepts and motivations alluded to in his words. When Rashi writes here that Yoseph felt it important to protect his brothers from being embarassed in front of strangers, we may now understand that he wasn't merely writing a simple explanation. Instead, Rashi indicates just how sensitive Yoseph was. Even though he knew that the word would get out in any case, he did his utmost to protect them from unecessary embarrassment. For as long as was possible, Yoseph wanted to protect his brothers. He understood that sooner or later the story would become known, but while he could, he felt it imperative to guard their dignity.
At this point I'd like to mention that a friend of mine pens weekly D'var Torah, too. This week, he wrote that Yoseph was so sensitive to his brothers that there is no evidence in the Torah that Yosef ever let his father Yaakov or brother Binyamin (who wasn't present at his sale) know about this episode at all, such was his concern and sensitivity for his brothers' pride.
Wishing a Shabbat Shalom.
Friday, December 03, 2010
Parshat Miketz - פרשת מקץ
"וַיִּזְכֹּר יוֹסֵף--אֵת הַחֲלֹמוֹת, אֲשֶׁר חָלַם לָהֶם; וַיֹּאמֶר אֲלֵהֶם מְרַגְּלִים אַתֶּם, לִרְאוֹת אֶת-עֶרְוַת הָאָרֶץ בָּאתֶם - And Yoseph remembered the dreams which he dreamed of them, and said unto them: 'You are spies; to see the nakedness of the land you have come.' "
(בראשית מ"ב:ט)
In this week's Parsha, we read of the famous episode in which Yosef is asked to interpret the dreams of Par'oh. This sets in action a chain of events which leads to his transformation and reversal in fortunes, going from a lowly prisoner to second-in-command over the Egyptian Kingdom.
As we know, Yoseph was sold into slavery by his brothers. Denied the chance to see his father for years, it's surprising that he waited as long as he did to reveal himself. If we stop to think, we may realise that although Yoseph decided to contact his father later on, he might have done so considerably earlier. True, Yospeh kept his identity hidden for some time as he decided to test his brothers, but surely he didn't need to wait quite as long as he did. Why did Yoseph tarry so? This is all the more puzzling given Ya'akov's continued mourning over his long-lost/long-feared-dead son. Surely such a delay was needless?
The Ramban poses precisely this question in his commentary on the verse above. His answer is puzzling; he had to wait until the dreams of his youth, the dreams in which he saw his entire family bow down to him, come true. To tell the truth, I don't really see much of a connection between the two, though. Surely Yoseph could have waited to see the dream be realised and also send his father a message to let him know that he was indeed alive? Indeed, couldn't Yoseph have done this even earlier? Why did Yoseph wait to meet his brothers? He could have easily sent a message home when he was appointed head of Poiphar's household.
Rav Ari Kahn of Aish Hatorah frames Ramban's answer in a different way. As he writes: "The answer which Nachmanides offers is that Joseph could not contact Jacob until the dreams of his youth had come true. Joseph had dreamt that his brothers would one day bow to him, and his revelation of this dream had set off the brothers' jealous rage that led to his eventual sale into slavery. Only when the dream came true could Joseph be vindicated and reveal himself." (From here.)
If I understand correctly, I think Rav Kahn expresses an important aspect of Yoseph's actions which I'd like to elaborate upon; that Yoseph realised that he had to act with the utmost sensitivity to his family. Indeed, he quotes Rav Shimshon Rephael Hirsch, who in turn writes that: "...Joseph's consideration in not sending a letter to his father in his years of success was: What would Jacob gain in getting one son back, if in the process he would lose ten?... Therefore, Joseph used all the subterfuge [necessary], and in my mind this was certainly worthy of the wisdom of Joseph." (Commentary on verse above.)
I would like to add to this by saying that not only was Yoseph concerned with his father, but that Yoseph was concerned with his brothers. Imagine standing in his shoes for a second. Before you are the brothers who, the last time you saw them, sought to have you killed. Wouldn't you be furious with them? Nevertheless, Yoseph conducts himself carefully. His immediate concern is for his family and to ensure that, at this most sensitive of times, he doesn't cause unnecessary pain. I think that we can all learn a tremendous amount from this.
Wishing you a Shabbat Shalom.
(בראשית מ"ב:ט)
In this week's Parsha, we read of the famous episode in which Yosef is asked to interpret the dreams of Par'oh. This sets in action a chain of events which leads to his transformation and reversal in fortunes, going from a lowly prisoner to second-in-command over the Egyptian Kingdom.
As we know, Yoseph was sold into slavery by his brothers. Denied the chance to see his father for years, it's surprising that he waited as long as he did to reveal himself. If we stop to think, we may realise that although Yoseph decided to contact his father later on, he might have done so considerably earlier. True, Yospeh kept his identity hidden for some time as he decided to test his brothers, but surely he didn't need to wait quite as long as he did. Why did Yoseph tarry so? This is all the more puzzling given Ya'akov's continued mourning over his long-lost/long-feared-dead son. Surely such a delay was needless?
The Ramban poses precisely this question in his commentary on the verse above. His answer is puzzling; he had to wait until the dreams of his youth, the dreams in which he saw his entire family bow down to him, come true. To tell the truth, I don't really see much of a connection between the two, though. Surely Yoseph could have waited to see the dream be realised and also send his father a message to let him know that he was indeed alive? Indeed, couldn't Yoseph have done this even earlier? Why did Yoseph wait to meet his brothers? He could have easily sent a message home when he was appointed head of Poiphar's household.
Rav Ari Kahn of Aish Hatorah frames Ramban's answer in a different way. As he writes: "The answer which Nachmanides offers is that Joseph could not contact Jacob until the dreams of his youth had come true. Joseph had dreamt that his brothers would one day bow to him, and his revelation of this dream had set off the brothers' jealous rage that led to his eventual sale into slavery. Only when the dream came true could Joseph be vindicated and reveal himself." (From here.)
If I understand correctly, I think Rav Kahn expresses an important aspect of Yoseph's actions which I'd like to elaborate upon; that Yoseph realised that he had to act with the utmost sensitivity to his family. Indeed, he quotes Rav Shimshon Rephael Hirsch, who in turn writes that: "...Joseph's consideration in not sending a letter to his father in his years of success was: What would Jacob gain in getting one son back, if in the process he would lose ten?... Therefore, Joseph used all the subterfuge [necessary], and in my mind this was certainly worthy of the wisdom of Joseph." (Commentary on verse above.)
I would like to add to this by saying that not only was Yoseph concerned with his father, but that Yoseph was concerned with his brothers. Imagine standing in his shoes for a second. Before you are the brothers who, the last time you saw them, sought to have you killed. Wouldn't you be furious with them? Nevertheless, Yoseph conducts himself carefully. His immediate concern is for his family and to ensure that, at this most sensitive of times, he doesn't cause unnecessary pain. I think that we can all learn a tremendous amount from this.
Wishing you a Shabbat Shalom.
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