Parashat Va'Era, Exodus 6:2-9:35

This week’s portion – the second in the Book of Exodus, entitled Va’Era, literally “I have been revealed” (as in God tells Moshe that He has been revealed to the three Forefathers) – tells the story of seven of the Ten Plagues inflicted by God on Egypt and its King Pharaoh. I have noted last week that this text – or its essence, at least – should be well familiar to every Jew who celebrates Passover, that is – to everyone.  Just to remind ourselves of the factual background, Moshe asks Pharaoh to “let my People go,” but Pharaoh refuses.  In response, God (through Moshe) inflicts ten horrible plagues on Egypt.  Each of the seven – Blood, Frogs, Lice, Wild Beasts, Pestilence, Boils, and Hail – is described in great detail in the portion, including its warning, its occurrence, its horrific aftermath and the effect it had on life in Egypt.  Yet throughout this remarkable display of divine power, King Pharaoh remains steadfast in his reluctance to let the People of Israel go. We are to wait until next week in order to see what finally broke this stonehearted King’s will.  

I would like to make three short observations about this week’s portion.

I. Moshe & Dr. King

In a few weeks we will be marking Martin Luther King’s Day.  It is interesting to compare the leadership style of Moshe – who was one of Dr. King’s favorite Biblical figures (in his last speech, for example, Dr. King invoked the image of Moshe’s last day, http://www.mlkonline.net/video-martin-luther-king-last-speech.html) – and that of Dr. King himself.  Both leaders represented an oppressed minority, who (at one point or another) were used as slaves.  Both were men of God.  Both never hesitated to invoke God – either in their addresses to their people or in their negotiations with the oppressing-class’ leaders.  Yet one used God to advocate a sophisticated form of non-violent resistance, while the other used God – according to today’s portion – in order to inflict horrific harm (the Plagues) on the oppressing class. Which one was more “right”? 

One thought-experiment we may conduct in this respect is to assume that Dr. King had the ability to perform the same miracles that Moshe has.  Would Dr. King actually inflict Ten Plagues on White America in the 1960s in order to “let his people go?” If so, would he be remembered (and celebrated) in the same way as he is today?  Conversely, during his time, would Moshe be so successful in letting his People go without inflicting such serious harm on Pharaoh and his people?  If so, what does that tell us on non-violent resistance? Is it always the best path to choose?  [Some loyal readers of this blog complained recently that I don’t provide enough answers to the questions I raise. I apologize, for this is again true for today’s post. Admittedly, I don’t have any answers – all I want is to raise some questions.]

II. Ten Plagues? Ten Commandments?

Every year in Passover, when we read the Haggadah, we mention the Ten Plagues. Similarly, every kid knows (or supposed to know) about the Ten Commandments.  Yet the biblical text itself never mentions the number “ten” – or any number at all, for that matter – in either context (of the Plagues or the Commandments).  The text simply goes through the description – of the Plagues or the Commandment; only later generations have derived the round number “Ten” for each. But the text’s silence on the exact number can also be telling. With the Plagues, we see very clearly that the first seven are separated from the last three in terms of portions.  Clearly, if the number “Ten” were so important, the portions would have been arranged differently. Second, and more importantly, the “Plagues” are not disconnected from their background. Thus, for example, just before inflicting the Plagues we learn about the marvel of turning Aharon’s rod into a serpent (Exodus 7:8-13).  While not very persuasive to Pharaoh as a mean to “let my People go,” it plays an important role in helping us to understand the background to God’s later decision to inflict serious harm upon Egypt; in other words, God began with a carrot, and only then moved to sticks. The King of All Kings thus provided ample opportunity for the King of Egypt to escape without harm.  The text thus may sending the message that we can’t truly read the story of the Plagues without referring first to the non-violent measures that Moshe attempted to adopt. [The situation with the Ten Commandments is even more complicated; the lack of orderly division between the first “three commandments” led to endless debates about the exact scope and content of each, which lasts through today.  I will elaborate on that when we arrive – in about three weeks – to the commandments themselves.]  Thus, the next time someone mentions the Ten Plagues to you, you may surprise them by answering: “True, but they did try some non-violent measures first!”

III. From Their God to Ours

Finally, some of you are probably aware of the very interesting order of the Ten Plagues.  In terms of physical description, the Plagues seem to move from the Earth to the Heavens: first blood appears on the River Nile, then Frogs leap from that same river into people’s homes, then the “ashes of the earth” produces lice, and so on and so forth until the Hail comes from the heavens. (Next week we will be reading about the great wind that first brings the Locusts unto Egypt, then blows it away; about the Darkness from the heavens that covered all of Egypt for several days; and finally, on the divine killing of every first born in Egypt.)  

But in a deeper sense, the Plagues also represent the move from the Egyptian god to our own Jewish God.  It should be remembered that the relationship between the Lord and His Chosen People was nascent at that point. It was important for Him to show them, too – and not only to Pharaoh – who is the real God in the game.  Accordingly, the Plagues move from the physical and earthly Nile – the symbol of all Egyptian gods (Pharaoh, the King-God, is often described as “standing on the Nile”), as well as Egypt’s sole source of livelihood – to the transcendental surroundings of the heavens, from which the most serious Plagues are inflicted.

Thus, by moving from “their” god to “ours,” the Plagues signal both to the Egyptians and to the Israelites where they should always look for salvation – not down at the river, but up at the heavens.

Shabbat Shalom, and Happy Civil New Year

Doron 

Parashat Sh'mot: Exodus 1:1-6:1

Parashat Sh’mot – the first portion of the second book, which literally means “names” – is one of the most famous of the entire Chumash. Indeed, its content is well-known to almost every knowledgeable Jewish person around the world.  This is so not only because it contains one of the key stories of the entire canon (the rise to power of Moshe, the most significant person in all of Judaism), but also because a major part of it (as well as of next week’s portion) were “imported” into the Passover Hagada, a text read by many Jewish families each year during “Jewish spring break.”  Thus, even a non-frequent (biblical) flyer may experience a déjà-vu when reading this portion for the first time. In my notes today I will briefly comment on each of these fascinating aspects of the portion.

I. A “Best Seller” Portion 

In addition to many Hagada “flash-backs,” a reader of this week’s portion may well experience a trip down memory lane – provided she attended Sunday school (or mandatory Bible classes in any Israeli elementary school).  For example, the wonderful story of little Moshe in the wicker basket – how he was first saved, then raised by Pharaoh’s daughter (despite her father’s decree to kill all Hebrew male babies (Exodus 2:2-10)). It also includes wonderful nuggets such as the famous story of Moshe standing before the burning bush, while the bush is not burning up (Exodus 3:2-3); the famous decree by God, ordering Moshe to “remove your shoes from your feet, as the place you are stepping upon is holy ground” (Id); Moshe arguing with God, claiming he’s not fit to become the leader of all Hebrews (on which I will elaborate shortly); Moshe and his brother Aharon standing before King Pharaoh and demanding “Let My People Go!” (Exodus 5:1); and many other biblical “best-sellers.”  

Obviously, I cannot discuss all of these great stories here today.  What I would like to do is to recall the “classical” narrative of Moshe’s rise to power and then to juxtapose it with a more up-to-date, political-science version of the same story.  For some, this latter version may be too close to, though stoping short of, replacing God with Machiavelli. 

 II. A Note on the Title: The Book of Names

Before I begin, a word on the title of the portion – and the book – we are reading today. The text begins with “And these are the names (Sh’mot) of …” and therefore, as usual, the portion and the book are named in Hebrew “Sh’mot” (Names). This is because every portion is named after the first meaningful word in the text; every book is named after the first meaningful word in that book (which always corresponds to the name of the first portion, of course).  Thus, for example, “Be’re’shit” is both the name of the first portion as well as of the first book in the bible.

The English translation editors, however, preferred a more subject-matter-oriented title, and named both the portion and the book “Exodus” – which I consider unfortunate. Exodus, of course, describes the main issue with which this book deals – the leaving of Egypt in order to “make Aliyah” (“aliyah” being a biblical term) to Land of Israel.  What those editors missed, however, is not only the emphasis the text places on the names of the Children of Israel as they arrive in Egypt – after which the book is named. To me, the much more interesting discussion of names as appearing in this portion relates to the names given to the Jewish God. And the one explaining those names in none other than God Himself, while talking to Moshe – which later became His most senior and faithful servant. Indeed, this single part of the text is truly unique, though not surprisingly nearly impossible to translate. In essence, Moshe asks God “If I were to be asked what is Your name, what should I tell them?” And God replies: “I am the being that is the being.” (Exodus 3:14-15; my translation.). Unfortunately, none of it is even hinted in the English version.  Accordingly, from now on, consider referring to this portion (and the book) by its real name – The Book of Names. 

III. Moshe’s Rise to Power: The Classic Version

As every elementary-school student is Israel knows well, Moshe – the only true “slave of God” – was never interested in the great honor bestowed upon him by God, namely leading the People of Israel out of Egypt.

In fact, it seems that Moshe was never made out of “leader material” (at least not in the way we consider the term today).  Rather, Moshe was a peaceful goat-herder, minding his own business. He could not be less interested in global politics: “And Moshe, tending to the flock of his father-in-law Jethro, the priest of Midyan, drove the flock into the wilderness, and came to Horeb, the mountain of God.” (Ex. 3:1-2).  To his great amazement, an Angel of God followed by God Himself, according to the text, appear before him and instruct him of his new destiny as the leader of (what would later become) the Chosen People.  Moshe protests – a sign of a true leader – and argues with God (in their first encounter ever, mind you): “Who am I to go to Pharaoh and free the Israelites from Egypt?” (Ex. 3:11). God assures Moshe that things will be fine, but Moshe is not convinced: “They [the people of Israel] would not believe me; they would not listen to me, as they will argue: ‘God has never shown Himself to you.’” (Ex. 4:1).  God solves that problem as well, equipping Moshe with a set of miracles that can convince even the most doubtful of heretics.  Still, Moshe is not convinced: “Please, I swear to You oh God, I have never been a man of many words . . . I am both slow of speech and slow of tongue.” (Ex. 4:10). God then allows Moshe to “outsource” the speech function to his brother Aharon, and now even Moshe, the great skeptic, is finally convinced.

All this argument, we learn, comes to show us one thing: True leaders are not power-hungry; they are not “running” for office – in fact, they are running from office; they are selected by God, usually “behind the flock” (just like David, many years later), and are not even aware of their future career until God himself tells them. End of story. Lesson learned.

Is there another way to look at that same story?

IV. Moshe’s Rise to Power: An Alternative View

Moshe’s image, as reflected by the text, is extremely interesting – both personally and in the biblical context.  From a textual standpoint, we find many a clue that Moshe is likened to many important figures before him, and is already destined for greatness from the moment he was born. Thus, for example, when Moshe is born, we are not told the name of his father (unprecedented in the text), or of the fact that he has a brother (Aharon) and a sister (Miriam) (see Ex. 2:1); in fact, Moshe himself has no name until much later (he is described invariably as “son,” “boy,” “lad” etc.).  Thus Moshe enters this world as an independent, “stand-alone” figure – no family, no ties, no roots, even no name. We then learn that he was hidden by his mother – not in a wicker basket, as many Sunday School students may think – but actually in a small  “arc” (King James Version got it right this time (Ex. 2:3)) – a direct reference to Noah, the first righteous man. Then we learn that Moshe is a Hebrew person walking among Egyptian royalty, much like another legendary Hebrew figure, Joseph. Moshe then finds a wife in a manner strikingly similar to that of Jacob’s (both impressing their bride-to-be by hydrating her flock) – another reference to one of most important figures in the biblical text. Finally, we learn that immediately after he was persuaded by God to lead the Israelites, “Moshe took his wife and sons and mounted them on the donkey and went back to the land of Egypt [where God ordered him to go]” – no doubt a reference to Abraham, his son and his donkey, as they are described in the early morning hours before the Akeida (Gen. 22:3).

But Moshe is also destined to greatness on his own accord, rather than merely by textual references. He is raised as an aristocrat at a time when his People are being slaved and humiliated by the same royalty members with whom he lives. In other words, Moshe’s own family and friends, in essence, are enforcing the reprehensible policies decreed by the King of Egypt against the Israelites. Moshe cannot be seen, therefore, as a genuine member of the Israeli people at this point. With that, we may safely assume that occasionally he would look outside the window of his sheltered palace, and consider the situation of his brothers and sisters in their sufferings. Still, Moshe grew up with royalty. He saw the way they govern. He studied the laws of politics, power, and authority. He was no stranger to leadership.

Our first encounter with the adult Moshe is striking: “Some time after that, when Moshe has grown up, he went out to his brethren and witnessed their hard-labor.  And he saw an Egyptian man attacking a Hebrew man, one of his own. And he looked around, and, after seeing that no man was there, hit the Egyptian man and buried him in the sand.”  [Ex. 2:11-12].  This is truly an amazing story: Despite his aloof background – and perhaps because of it – Moshe does not merely protest the injustice he witnesses; rather, he pro-actively interrupts the situation, and without a warning or inquiry kills the Egyptian aggressor. Not exactly the act of a shy goat-herder.

The next day, Moshe goes out again. No longer shall he reside permanently at his distant palace. This time Moshe encounters two Hebrew men fighting. He turns to the aggressor, and – while not striking him – demands to know: “Why are you striking your brethren?” The answer shocks and dismays Moshe for years to come: “And [the aggressor] said: Who made you a minister and a judge upon us? Do you plan to kill me, as you have the Egyptian?” (Ex. 2:12). Thus, Moshe realizes that it is not his actions, but rather the source of his authority that would be key to any future leadership position.

It is against this background that we may now re-examine the famous encounter (and debate) with God.  Recall that back then – when there was no CNN, no internet, no facebook or twitter – political power was earned primarily by family ties, or by an act of performing a miracle, like Joseph “interpreting” the dream of Pharaoh.  Moshe, obviously, had to choose the latter.  So here is how the story begins:

There is a miracle. A bush is burning, but it is not consumed.  Then God speaks: He invokes the three fathers: Avraham, Izaac, and Jacob – the “founding fathers.” Indeed, just as today Supreme Court Justices and Congressmen alike often invoke the (American) Founding Fathers as a source of legitimacy for their opinions, Moshe, back then, required a similar “big name” to rely on. And while today such source of legitimacy sounds self-evident, almost trivial, recall that at that time, these figures did not mean much to most Hebrew slaves:  They never seen them, and I doubt many of them even heard of them. Still, Moshe is in desperate need for a legitimating source for his claim to power, and the Fathers are as good as any.

Then Moshe asks “Who am I [to do all that]” – invoking almost the exact same text of the Hebrew slave who refused to abide by his command earlier in the story.  Here, again, Moshe is required to show to his (future) People that he is well aware of his questionable legitimacy as a leader, and wants to address this head on. Again, God invokes the Founding Fathers, and this is the message Moshe delivers later to his audience. 

The next issue, Moshe’s speech impediment, is also a classic. While many view it as another sign of Moshe’s humility, a different reading emerges if we consider Moshe, with his very sharp organizational skills, as realizing that dividing the position of CEO and spokeperson could benefit them both.  Today, every leader would agree with that notion, even the most eloquent of them (just ask Robert Gibbs). 

In short, Moshe’s first encounter with God, other than his classic reading, can also provide us with some very important lessons on leadership, legitimacy, and division of power. Your thoughts?

Shabat Shalom,

Doron

Parashat Va'Yechi, Gen. 47:28-50:26 (End)

This week’s portion – Va’Yechi (literally, “and he lived,” as in “And Jacob lived in the Land of Egypt for 17 years”) – is the last portion of the Book of Genesis.  Thus, we have another first; today, for the first time in our cycle, we end the reading of a book. This time, we conclude the first of the Five Books of Moses – probably the most significant of the entire canon.  It is only fitting, therefore, that this week’s portion is a portion full of endings. Both Jacob, the last of Judaism’s Three Founding Fathers, and Joseph, his most famous and beloved son, end their lives in this portion.  And if we consider the Haftara as well, then King David, too, will end his life by the time our reading is complete.

The very fact that three of Judaism’s greatest legends end their lives in the course of one portion – and the very last portion of Genesis at that – is not coincidental.  It tells us something quite significant about ending of life in general, but also about new beginnings as well.  Today I want to talk about these two complimentary – though sometimes considered contradictory – points, demonstrating the powerful notion that “every end is also a new beginning.” 

I. Every End….

The end of one’s life may often be used as an opportunity for reflection.  Some would like to depart this world with an act that symbolizes, more than any other, their life on earth. Something that would define their legacy. Let us examine shortly how Jacob and Joseph choose to end their own lives.   

We begin with Jacob.  At the center of today’s portion is Jacob’s blessings to his twelve sons – the twelve Tribes of Israel.  These blessings are extremely complex, and I cannot dwell on them here; suffice it to say that Jacob opens his last address with the cryptic words:  “Gather around me, and I shall tell you on your experiences at the end of days.” (Gen. 49:1)

But how does Jacob choose to leave this world? The answer, to me at least, is precisely in the same way his father did. Indeed, the similarities between Jacob’s end-of-life story and that of Isaac’s are striking.  Both men, the biblical text informs us, could hardly see at the end of their days (compare Gen. 48:10 (“And the eyes of Israel were heavy of old age”) with 27:1 (“And Isaac turned old, and his eyes became too dark too see”)); both question the identity of the sons standing before them for blessings (compare Gen. 27:18 (Isaac’s question to Jacob: “Who are you [of] my son[s]?”) with 48:8 (“And Israel saw the sons of Joseph, and he asked: ‘who are these people?’”)); both bless first the younger rather than the older, despite the explicit law to the contrary (compare Gen. 48:14 (Israel blesses Ephrayim first, although he is the younger than Menashe), with 27:28 (Isaac blesses Jacob first)); and, most strikingly, both refuse to renege on their wrongful blessings once they are notified on the erroneous order (compare Gen. 48:19 (Jacob refuses to recognize his mistake), with 27:38 (Isaac refuses to recognize his)).

The end of Jacob’s life, therefore, is marked by unification with his father – “Ma’assei Avot, Siman Le’vanim” – the “deeds of the fathers are signs for their sons.” (Midrash Tan’chuma, Lech Lecha, 9).  To make this symbolic connection even more concrete, Jacob insists that he would be buried right next to his father, at the famous site bought by his grandfather many years earlier.  His last wish is fulfilled by his sons, and now Jacob is finally forever united with his father Isaac, and grandfather Abraham. 

The end of Joseph’s life is almost diametrically opposed. Instead of uniting with his family, Joseph legacy is more about himself than anyone else’s.  Recall that as a child, Joseph had a dream (two, in fact) where his brothers bowed to him, as if they were his servants.  The brothers, obviously, hated him for that. Near the end of his life, this dream comes true.

Recall that Jacob, the patriarch, is dead.  Now the brothers fear that their younger brother will “hate us and finally award us back for all the evil things we caused him.” (Gen. 50:15)  So big is their fear, that they concoct a hypothetical “last will and testament” by their father, one he had never made, according to which Jacob ordered that Joseph would not hurt the brothers.  Joseph, who probably knows they are lying (surely his father would have told him of that), not only forgives them, but burst again into tears. (Recall the dramatic settings at the beginning of the last portion, in which Joseph orders everyone away only to immediately burst into tears before introducing himself for the first time in years to his shocked brothers).  He then reassures them that no harm would be done to them. Hearing that, the brothers actually “fall in front of Joseph” and say: “We are your servants.” (Gen. 50:18)  Thus, the dream of the young boy has come true on the eve of his death.

And by that last act Joseph parts this world; with all his dreams fulfilled, but without a meaningful legacy.  And Jacob? His days on this earth, according to his own testimony, were “short in number, and full of sorrow”; and yet his legacy lives on to this day as the greatest of Judaism’s Founding Fathers. To this day we are all the People of Israel – the sons of Jacob.

II. ... Is Also a New Beginning

Other than in endings, Genesis’ last portion may also offer a lesson in new beginnings. True, in order to fully comprehend that one must “cheat” and turn the page to the new book of Exodus. Still, in this case, the game is worth the candle.

In Exodus 1:6-8, we find the following very succinct but beautiful description: “And Joseph has passed, and so did his brothers, and that entire generation . . . . and a new king rose over Egypt, and he did not know Joseph.”  The notion that Joseph, the most significant figure in Egypt (and the region) for nearly 80 years was not known by the new ruler gives us pause; yet at the same time it sounds extremely familiar.  Just like every president (all over the world, not just here) wishes to distance himself as much as possible from his predecessor, so does the new Pharaoh refuse to be defined by the legend of Joseph.

But in a deeper sense, the separation from Joseph and his generation – in essence, the separation from Genesis – is necessary to understand the story of Exodus.  Indeed the book of Genesis is unique in many respects, not the least of which is the fact that all the key figures – local and domestic, plebes as well as kings – recognize the power of Abraham’s God (and therefore, to an extent, believe in Him). This is true, to be sure, for Joseph’s Pharaoh as well. Not so for all other four books of the Chumash (or the other 23, for that matter, of the entire Tanach).  Here we find people – and kings – who refuse to recognize His powers and presence. 

But “Mai’Az Yatza Ma’tok” from the unfortunate came the sweetest of all (Judges 14:14):  As a people, we needed someone like Pharaoh who refuses to believe so we can leave Egypt and re-settle in the Promised Land. In a sense, therefore, we needed someone who “did not know Joseph” in order to really escape Joseph’s land.  And thus, Joseph’s end truly marks our new beginning as the People of Israel.

Shabat Shalom,

Doron

Parashat Va'Yigash, Genesis, 44:18-47:27

This week’s portion – Va’Yigash (literally, “and he approached”) – marks the third of “Joseph’s” portions.  In the first portion we were introduced to Joseph as a young boy, mistreated by his brothers while reporting to them on his narcissistic dreams. We then continue to learn about how much the brothers hate Joseph, finally throwing him into a deserted pit in the middle of the desert. In the second portion, we meet Joseph when he is taken to Egypt, again being thrown down into the pit – this time, the Egyptian jailhouse – only to be raised later to royalty prominence, becoming the second-in-command to the King of Egypt himself. His brothers are then arriving at Egypt in search for food, and Joseph serves them one cold dish of revenge without letting them know who it is.  This week, at last, he would also reveal himself to his brothers, and the family would reconcile again.

I.               Where Is Joseph Today?

So, three portions, all dedicated – almost exclusively – to one person, Joseph. Very few people in the history of Judaism, let alone the biblical text, received so much Torah attention. And yet, while occupying more than his fair share of the text, Joseph – as Jewish image – occupies very little of the traditional heritage. Thus, he is not enumerated as one of the Jewish Forefathers; he is hardly ever mentioned as Jewish leader; he is not a Jewish role-model; very few kids, if ever, dress like him or attempt to imitate him in Purim; in short – despite all the biblical attention, the image of Joseph in Judaism has all but vanished. Joseph is dead to Judaism. This is even more surprising if we consider the fact that despite not having a tribe named after him – but rather two tribes named after his sons, Ephrayim and Menashe – Joseph is, to a large extent our only remaining father, as all the other ten tribes have been lost. In essence, therefore, it would be possible to claim that we are all Joseph’s descendants.

Yet, other than Moses, it is hard to think of anyone – certainly none of the three Forefathers, not Noah, and no other biblical figure comes to mind – that receives so much attention from the Torah text. So, why the discrepancy? While I can’t even offer an educated guess here, I would like to say few words on these three portions as a whole. 

II. Thesis, Antithesis, and Synthesis in Joseph’s Story

In Hegelian philosophy, we find the “dialectic move” – Thesis, Antithesis, Synthesis.  What it means is that first the proposition emerges; then its complete opposite; and finally, some combination of the two.  If “Va’Yeshev” was the thesis, and last week’s portion – “Mi’Ketz” – was the antithesis, this week’s portion, Va’Yigash, is the synthesis.  Let us see why.

We begin with dreams. In the first week of the three, we saw how dreams bring Joseph down – all the way to the pit. He first reported them to his brothers, and then was punished by being deserted deep down in the desert. In the second portion, we saw how those same dreams bring Joseph back up – all the way to the throne. This week, however, there are no dreams. This week, we read on the meeting – at last – between the Joseph and his brothers, undisguised. And while the scene may appear at first like some sort of a dream (and perhaps, for some of the brothers, as a potential nightmare), reality hits home soon when it becomes clear that the second-in-command in all of Egypt, the only regional superpower, is no other than their own little brother Joseph – the same brother that they have thrown down to a pit over seventeen years earlier. Thus – dreams leading to bad; dreams leading to good; no dreams. 

We next move to communication. In the first week, we read of how Joseph talks badly about his brothers to their father Jacob; they, in turn, refuse to talk to him at all. (Think about that – having ten brothers and none of them ever talks to you. How sad.)  So, in the first portion we may conclude that there is almost no communication.  In the second week, we read on how Joseph and the brothers hold extremely long conversations – but not directly.  Rather, “Ha’Melitz Beinotam” – the interpreter is between them (both figuratively and actually; Gen. 42:23). So again, indirect communication, although plenty of it. This week, Joseph “ can no longer hold himself back” – and he asks everyone out, including the interpreter. And what are Joseph’s first words to his brothers after more than seventeen years of not seeing them? There are no words. He simply breaks down and cries. (Recall Jacob’s first “words” to Rachel – exactly the same.) This direct communication method – “old-school” communication, if you will – brings into mind the great story by Y.L. Peretz, The Whistle, about the young kid who entered the synagogue on Yom Kippur’s Ne’illa Prayer, and, to everyone’s shock and dismay, began whistling.  The congregation is aghast at the sacrilegious act at the midst of the holiest day of the year, but the Rabbi thinks differently:  “This is the purest way to communicate with God,” he said. “Not always do we need words.” So again, we move from no communication, to indirect communication, to the most direct form of communication possible – no words involved.

We finally touch upon the relationship between Joseph and his Brothers. At first, they hated him, almost to the point of wanting to kill him.  Then, Joseph  avenges their hatred, accusing them of anything from being spies – a violation punishable by death (then and now) – to thieves, to dishonest and more. But in this week’s portion, finally, it is time to make peace. Obviously, the terms of this peace agreement are set by the victorious side – Joseph; so the entire family travels down to be with him, in Egypt. But this is peace after all – and like most peace accords, and most settlements – it leaves each side a bit disappointed. Thus, we have first hatred from the brothers to Joseph; then accusations leveled by Joseph and the brothers; and finally peace and harmony between the two sides. 

So much for the Hegelian move. 

III. “Few in Number, and Full of Misery”

Another point I want to make today relates to the very interesting meeting between the last of the three Forefathers, Jacob, and the King of all of Egypt (and his son’s new boss) Pharaoh.  Recall that the text reports to us in great detail on how well did Joseph prepared his brothers for the meeting with Pharaoh.  Thus, for example, Joseph tells the brothers that the King will probably inquire into their deeds, and they should say that they are goat-herders (a despised profession by the Egyptian elite) (Gen. 46:33).  This worked exactly as planned: The King asks them: “What is it that you do?” and they reply: “we are goat herders.” (Gen. 47:3).

But Joseph did not prepare his father for this all-important meeting. And Pharaoh then asks Jacob a very benign question: How old are you? Jacob’s surprising answer is: “The years of my life are 130 in number.” But then he adds, without being asked: “Few in number, and full of misery were the years of my life.”  Now in Hebrew, the language is simply beautiful here – so few words that capture so much meaning: “Me’at Ve’ra’im Ha’yu Ye’mai Shnei Chayay.” When Shai Agnon, Israel’s only author (so far) to win a Noble Prize in literature, looked for words to describe the premature death of his mom in her early thirties, (“Bi’dmey Ya’me’ha”), he uses the exact same words: “Few in number, and full of misery were the days of my mother.” 

Now this is a surprising answer – not the least because of the break in diplomatic decorum (you are to answer only what the King has asked you).  One would think that now that Jacob is finally reunited with his beloved son he would be anything if not jubilant at this moment (not to mention he is standing face-to-face with the greatest regional leader). But no, Jacob reflects back on his life, and at this moment it looks to him short and brutal, much like their much later depiction by Hobbs. 

The Jewish Sages worked hard to try and provide explanations for this rather surprising comment. Some of these are quite predictable: Now, standing before Pharaoh, Jacob realizes he didn’t put his mind and sole into worshiping God the way he should have, thus his life seems, all of sudden, short and miserable.  This is one explanation.

Other explanations are less predictable, even humorous: Pharaoh, who was surprised that the father of the young man he crowned as Vice-King is so old, is asking the father how old he is. Jacob, in return, is saying that he understands he looks very old, but in fact he is not old at all (comparatively to these days), but he looks very bad because his life were miserable. 

In my view, however, something much deeper is going on here. Jacob’s life was, to a large extent, a life of anticipation. Fourteen years he waited for his wife Rachel. Then he finally achieved her. Twenty years he has waited to see how his brother would avenge his betrayal of him. That went well too.  And now, for the first time in 17 years, he finally sees his son again – and he realizes, without words, that he was waiting for him all these days. Now, even if all those long periods of anticipation ended successfully, still most of his life were, indeed, full of sorrow. And the “few,” in my mind, related to those very few days in which he was not waiting for something to happen.  Reflecting on his life near its end, Jacob thus provides us with a very strong lesson for life: Don’t wait. Don’t anticipate. Don’t fill up your life with the hope that something good will happen some day. Even if it will – it may not be finally worth it, if your entire life has passed in anticipation. It is better to act now (even if you regret it later) than to wait for good things to come.

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron  

Parashat Mi'Ketz, Genesis 44:1-44:17

This week’s portion – Mi’Ketz (literally, “at the end of”) – is quite fascinating on two accounts. First, when compared with last week’s portion, it may serve as an interesting study in opposites. In fact, the two seems to be almost a mirror image of each other. Second, it may teach us several lessons that may be well applied in today's business environment. I'll take these two issues in turn.

I. Study in Opposites    

In several respects, this week's portion is the complete opposite of its predecessor. Take the relationship between Joseph and his brothers.  Last week, we read how the Brothers despised Joseph and tortured him many a way (both active and passive) – finally almost killing him and then abandoning him in the desert.  This week, instead, we read how Joseph – who now, thirteen years later, knows all too well that revenge is a dish best served cold – meticulously tortures his brothers back; and he, too, does it crudely, slowly, and methodically over a period of several months. [This should serve as an important lesson to all you “big brothers (and sisters)” out there: be very careful in how you treat your little siblings…]

Or take Joseph himself.  Last week, we read about how he descended to the lowest places imaginable – first thrown by his brothers into a “pit” in the desert all by himself (just try to imagine being in such a barren grave – if only for a few moments; then try to imagine being thrown in there by your own brothers). Then Joseph was thrown in jail (back then, most likely, underground), not for weeks or months, but for several years, and in a foreign country for good measure (the regional superpower of Egypt).  This week, conversely, we read about Joseph as he ascends to the highest post imaginable; he becomes the most prominent, powerful, and influential figure in all of Egypt, second only to Pharaoh himself (which was not only the King back then, but also a God-like figure).  This should serve as a lesson of another nature, and a very powerful one at that: Even when you find yourself falling into a pit, or even spend some years in prison – there is no telling what the future holds. (Note, however, that Joseph was innocent in both cases (“for here, too, I have done nothing (wrong)” Gen. 40:15); this is no license to do wrong.)  

And finally, take the notion of Dreams.  Last week, we saw how dreams, by and large, brought misery upon Joseph, both when he divulged their content to his brothers, and when he solved the ones presented to him in jail by the two ministers (who promised to save him following his interpretation, but failed to deliver on their promise).  This week, the opposite is true: Joseph’s ability to “solve” (read: correctly interpret) Pharaoh’s dreams grants him the special title “Zaphnat Pa’a’ne’ach” (which none of the 10 traditional translation I consulted dared to translate (leaving it intact, instead), and which means, approximately – “he who can decipher the deepest secrets”), and otherwise enables Joseph to become in charge on all of Egypt. Here, too, is a teachable moment:  If you are very passionate about something, even if it brings you much misery in the beginning (like, for example, the crazy idea to write a blog on the Portion every single week), stick to it – perhaps good things will come.

II. Contemporary Lessons

But this week’s lessons do not end here.  Here are some others.  First, “spread your bread.” The wisest of all persons, the author of Kohelet (Ecclesiastes 11:1) has taught us: “Spread your bread upon the waters, for after many days you shall find it.” In essence, that means that you should never hesitate to do your best today, even without a prospect of an immediate gain or reward; that reward may come “after many days.”  And indeed, Joseph has solved the dreams of fellow inmates in the jailhouse despite the fact that there could be no immediate benefit from that. He did ask, however, that those persons “would remember him” and take him out of jail when the appropriate time comes. And they did – more than two years later. (Interestingly, the person who mentions Joseph’s name to Pharaoh – the same Minister whose dream Joseph solved in jail – begins his statement to the King with the famous words “My sins I bring before you today…” (Gen. 41:10). The “sins” he talks about are usually attributed to his own sins, the one that put him in jail in the first place; but in a deeper sense, I think this statement should be read as relating to the sin he committed towards Joseph – breaking his promise to mention his name to Pharaoh).

Second, and quite related, the lesson of seizing the moment.  The Romans told us to seize the day – carpe diem; but way before that, our sages asked rhetorically “if not now, when?" (Pirkei Avoth 1:14).  Joseph performs an incredible feat: he solves a royal dream, a dream no other person – including all the wise men of Egypt – was able to solve (the dream about the seven good years followed by the seven bad years). But – and this is important – Joseph doesn’t stop there.  Immediately following his interpretation, ad-lib, he outlines a comprehensive plan to combat the emerging crisis. That way, he helps the King not only to understand the meaning of his dreams, but also – more importantly, perhaps – to overcome the emergency they bring about.  For this (and not only for his interpretation) he is rewarded with the title of Second only to the King.  So next time your boss calls you to explain a certain issue he or she “does not understand” – go ahead, save the moment and outline for her what are the best ways to solve the crisis that may be looming.    

And finally, the lesson of understatement.  In the Talmud (Brachot 35) we find that “the righteous ones, their work is done by others.”  Note that after solving Pharao’s dreams, Joseph offers to Pharaoh to appoint “a wise and smart person all over the land of Egypt” (Gen. 41:33).  Now recall Joseph’s situation at that point:  He is only thirty years old (Gen 41:46), a “young boy” according to the person who introduced him to Pharaoh (Gen. 41:12); he has just spent several years in jail (and technically, although he changes his clothes and got his first shave in years, he is still a prisoner); he was wrongly accused (twice), and suffered quite substantially for it.  Yet he never asks for a position, never asks to be rewarded, never pleads to be released from Jail. Instead, he focuses on how he, the young man, can help Pharaoh, the King of Egypt.  And for that, for never even suggesting that it would be him, Joseph, Pharaoh rewards him with the greatest of all rewards:  “There is no wiser and smarter than you” says Pharaoh to Joseph while giving him his own royal ring (Gen. 41:40-42); from now on, “without your permission, no one would as much as lift his arm of foot in the entire land of Egypt.” (Id, 42). Well said.

Shabat Shalom.      

Doron