Jan 19, 2026 | Torat Devorah, Uncategorized
A number of commentators have raised the question of why the parentage and genealogy of Moshe is not mentioned until the early part of this week’s parsha. In parshat Shemos, we are only told that his father was a man from the House of Levi, and that his mother was a daughter of Levi. In this week’s parsha, Vaeirah, we are not only told their names, but are also presented with the lineage of both Moshe and Aharon. This presentation actually begins with a listing of the children of Jacob’s first three sons, Reuven, Shimon and Levi, and proceeds to trace the lineage of Moshe and Aaron from Levi. What is the place of this presentation in our parsha, and why wasn’t it given earlier?
Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch, in his Torah commentary, explains that until this point, Moshe had been unsuccessful in his mission, both to his nation and to Pharaoh, and had complained to God that the nation’s suffering had increased since he spoke to Pharaoh. God reassured him that he would be successful, and charged him to proceed with his task together with his brother Aaron. Moshe thus was about to embark on the successful phase of his mission. In order to assure that he would not be perceived, in his role as liberator, as some kind of supernatural being, or deity, the Torah presents us with his exact lineage, to remind us that he was a human being, born of a man and woman.
Rabbi Joshua Hoffman explores the relationship between the Israelites and Moses. He cites the Sefas Emes who explains that Moshe’s ability to speak to the nation depended on the degree of their receptivity. Rabbi Hoffman believes that the nation perceived a sharp difference between Moses and themselves, and were, therefore, not willing to listen to him, at first. The rabbis tell us the tribe of Levi was not subjected to bondage, and that is how Moses and Aaron were always able to visit Pharaoh when they needed to deliver their message to him. Perhaps, he explains, this is what the Torah means when it says that the people did not listen to Moses because of shortness of spirit and hard work. They did not wish to accept Moses and Aaron as their leaders because, they felt, they could not appreciate what they were experiencing, since they were exempt from the enslavement. Perhaps Moses and Aaron, they felt, could live as free people, but how could they?
Rabbi Kook, in his commentary to the Pesach Haggadah, writes that the Egyptians, through enslaving the Jews, effected their self-perception. This is the meaning, he says, of a verse recited by the farmer, when bringing his first fruits to the Temple. Recapitulating the enslavement in Egypt, the farmer says, “Vayareiu osanu ha-Mitzrim,” usually translated as “And the Egyptians mistreated us.” (Deuteronomy, 26: 6). Rav Kook, however, explains it to mean that the Egyptians caused us to view ourselves as bad people. Moses and Aaron needed to assure the nation that they were indeed, worthy of being free people. It is for this reason, Rabbi Hoffman believes, that their lineage is given at this point, and as part of the general genealogy of Jacob’s family.
In The Garden of The Torah, the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, explains to us the Hebrew word “Mitzrayim” – Egypt, which is related to the Hebrew word for “boundaries” or “limitations”: Mitrayim is a paradigm for what exile is and the essence of our spiritual challenge. The world was created as a dwelling place for Hashem and our souls are a part of Hashem. Yet, we often overlook this as we are caught in the exile of our material world and daily routine which shapes our thoughts. However, Hashem doesn’t allow this exile to continue indefinitely.
In Mitzrayim, Hashem revealed Himself through the plagues, thereby transforming the Jewish people’s thinking. But what about us? Hashem said “I revealed myself to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob”; Rashi comments “to the Patriarchs”. His comment, which seems redundant, is actually reinforcing that, by revealing Himself to our forefathers, Hashem make the awareness of His existence a fundamental element in their make-up (and the make-up of their descendants for all time). In every generation, Hashem sparks this awareness by performing acts transcending the natural order; some are obvious to us (e.g., the Gulf War, Entebbe, re-birth of Israel, the fall of Communism); others are not. By these acts, Hashem reveals Himself to us, allowing us to transform the limits of our “exile” and take in the awareness of His presence. We must open our eyes.
~Devorah Abenhaim
Jan 9, 2026 | Torat Devorah
In this week’s Parsha, the Torah says, “A new king arose over Egypt who did not know Joseph.” There are two explanations of this Pasuk. The standard explanation is simply that the old king died. As it had been many years since Yosef’s rise to power and since Yosef was already dead, the new king no longer appreciated Yosef’s contribution to Egypt. Therefore, this new king had no problem with persecuting the Jews. The other explanation is not quite so simple but much more disturbing. Many commentaries say that in fact this was the same king that ruled during Yosef’s rise to power. So why does the Torah say the new king did not know Yosef? Of course this king knew Yosef.
It is explained that at this time the Egyptians were starting to fear the large number of Jews in Egypt, but could do nothing about it because the king, Pharaoh, was in obvious gratitude towards the Jews. Eventually the people became impatient and began to put pressure on the Pharaoh to make a bold move against the Jews. The Pharaoh soon caved in to all the pressure and essentially became a new king, one who did not know Yosef, he chose to ignore Yosef.
“Every son that is born you should cast into the river” (Exodus 1:22)
In order to curb the enormous population growth of the Jewish people, Pharaoh proclaimed this edict, sentencing any newborn baby boy to drowning in the Nile.The Gemara (Sotah 11) relates that when Pharaoh was unsure as to how to stop the Jews from growing more numerous, he asked three of his advisers for guidance. Bilaam, the first advisor, gave advice to throw the babies into the Nile. Iyov, the second, kept silent and Yitro, the third, ran away. As a result of these actions Bilaam was killed by Hashem, Iyov got tremendous suffering and Yitro merited children who sat in the Sanhedrin.
From here we learn the tremendous power of Tochacha (rebuke). Iyov, a G-d fearing man, kept silent rather than rebuke Bilaam for his advice. For this abstention of rebuke, Iyov got the worst sufferings in the world. (In fact, a whole Sefer of Tanach describes his tribulations.)Yitro, on the other hand, ran away, which is only a small form of rebuke, yet was immensely rewarded by having children who converted and became Torah giants and adjudicators in Sanhedrin, a great honor.Now it is clear the power of rebuke. If we see a friend sinning, we must realize that it is our obligation and a mitzvah from the Torah to tell our friend of the wrong they are committing. If we do not, as in the case of Iyov, terrible punishment may be the result. But if we do, then our reward will be great. May we all merit such honor and greatness as a result of fulfilling the Torah’s commandments.
~Devorah Abenhaim
Jan 2, 2026 | Torat Devorah
Jacob, realizing he is about to die, gathers his 12 sons to receive a blessing. But first, Jacob calls upon two of his grandchildren – Joseph’s sons Ephraim and Menashe – to receive blessings. Why would Jacob place priority on blessing grandchildren over children? The commentators explain that even more than the joy of having children is the joy of having grandchildren. Why is this so? Most creatures in the world have parent-child relationships – whether it is a mother lion protecting her cubs or a mother bird feeding her young. But only the human being has a concept of grandchildren, of perpetuation beyond a single generation. This is an effect of our spiritual soul which is rooted in infinity. Being a grandparent therefore connects us deeply to our uniqueness as human beings. There is further significance to Jacob’s blessings.
Rabbi Shraga Simmons explains that one of the most beautiful customs in Jewish life is for parents to bless their children at the start of the Friday night Shabbat meal. Girls receive the blessing: “May God make you like the matriarchs Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel and Leah.” Boys, meanwhile, are blessed “to be like Ephraim and Menashe.” What happened to the patriarchs Abraham, Isaac and Jacob Rabbi Simmons asks? Why were Ephraim and Menashe chosen instead as the subjects of this important tradition? In actuality, Ephraim and Menashe were the first set of Jewish brothers who did not fight. Abraham’s two sons – Isaac and Ishmael – could not get along, and their disagreement forms the basis of the Arab-Israeli conflict until today.
The next generation of Isaac’s two sons – Jacob and Esav – was so contentious that Esav repeatedly sought to kill Jacob and instructed his descendants to do the same. And even the next generation of Jacob’s sons sold Joseph into slavery in Egypt. Ephraim and Menashe represent a break from this pattern. This explains why Jacob purposely switched his hands, blessing the younger Ephraim before the older Menashe. Jacob wished to emphasize the point that with these siblings, there is no rivalry. (See Genesis 48:13-14) It is with this thought that parents bless their children today. For there is no greater blessing than peace among brothers. The words of King David ring true: “How good and pleasant is it for brothers to sit peacefully together.” (Psalms 133:1)
A further question arises regarding the blessing that Jacob gave Joseph’s sons. Why is so much emphasis placed upon Ephraim and Menashe when so little is known about them? It would seemingly make more sense to say, “May Hashem make you like Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob”, parallel to the blessing given to girls, “May Hashem make you like Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, and Leah.” Just like we bless our daughters to be like the Matriarchs, why don’t we bless our sons to be like the Patriarchs?
Yoel Feilner, a graduate of yeshiva Atlanta, explains: Ephraim and Menashe grew up in the lap of Egyptian royalty. Their father, Joseph, was second in command of the greatest empire at that time. Their lives were drowned in Egyptian culture, making it very easy for them to assimilate. It is for this reason, explains Rabbi Yehudah Leib Ginzberg, the late rabbi of Denver, Colorado, that we bless our children to be like Ephraim and Menashe. Although they were raised in the foreign, hostile environment of Egypt, they did not assimilate. They remained true to their faith, even in a society filled with so many temptations. Jacob knew that in the future, his children, the Jewish people, would be spread around the world, often in difficult surroundings. Therefore, Jacob prayed that regardless of their situation, Jewish children should remain loyal to the Torah, just as Ephraim and Menashe did in Egypt.
~Devorah Abenhaim
Dec 26, 2025 | Torat Devorah, Uncategorized
In this weeks Parsha we learn of the reunion of Jacob with his beloved son Yoseph. Yosef had become elevated to a position of ruler ship second only to Pharaoh. When his brothers emigrated from the land of Canaan with their father, Yosef knew that Pharaoh would call for them. He advised them how to answer Pharaoh who would ask them what their occupation was. What was his advice? He told them to say that they were herdsman. This would insure that they would be given the good grazing land of Goshen to live on. Good grazing land for herdsman? This sounds as if they were being given deferential treatment in their new host country.
In actual fact the sons of Yaakov were being separated from the local population. They would be despised as herdsman since the Egyptians worshipped sheep as gods. In what way then, was Yosef’s advise beneficial to his brothers?
Rabbi Dovid Green relates the following: “Dr. Asher Wade tells a very interesting story which sheds light on our question. Dr. Wade’s extensive Holocaust studies have made him a key lecturer at Yad V’shem, He notes that he finds it intriguing to note the reactions many people have to his mode of dress which is that of a Chasidic Jew.
In his story he describes how a young woman paused as she made her way past him. She looked at him with tremendous disdain and jadedly accused him saying “it’s people like YOU who caused the Holocaust to happen”. She based her statement on the premise that being different makes others hate you. That of course makes assimilation the best defense against anti-Semitism.
He simply asked her in return, “tell me, where did the Nazi hatred start? In Eastern Europe where so many Jews were still strongly identifiable as Jews, or in Austria and Germany where the Jews were largely assimilated?” She stood there, taking a moment longer to think than she had the first time she spoke. She then quickly continued down the isle saying “well, you just leave me alone and I’ll do the same for you,” which sounds very much like: “don’t confuse me with the facts, I’ve made up my mind!”
We learn that when the time for the exodus from Egypt came, 210 years after Jacob arrived, the Children of Israel had become barely recognizable as a separate nation. Slavery and oppression had taken it’s toll. The only aspects which had been retained to distinguish them from their Egyptian neighbors were their uniquely Jewish style of dress, their Hebrew language, and their continued use of Jewish names. All other aspects of Egyptian life, among them idol worship and the laxity in performing circumcision, had slowly washed away their Jewish identity. Though the family of Yaakov came to Egypt to escape the raging famine which was then devastating Canaan and the surrounding area, the Egyptian society was not theirs.
Through the advise to his brothers, Yosef was actually insuring the continuity of all future Jewish generations until today. If the original tiny settlement of 70 Jews had been welcomed and settled in the heart of Egyptian culture and norms from day one, how long would it have taken for them to have assimilated completely, disappearing as Jews altogether? Yosef, with his foresight and caring for the future of G-d’s nation, saw what steps to take and followed through. Yes, his family would be separate and distinct. Yes, they would be hated. They would also make it to the end of the Egyptian exile with the last vestiges of their identity intact, namely their Jewish names and mode of dress.
The existence of a last tiny flame of Jewish identity insured that there was a nation left to be taken out of bondage. That tiny flame would later be ignited into a glorious torch through the giving of the Torah. It may have appeared at the time that Yosef was the hater. In actuality he had expressed the greatest love through his seemingly strange advise. Without Yosef having arranged that they would be distinct, they would surely have been loved…to death through assimilation.
~Devorah Abenhaim
Dec 18, 2025 | Torat Devorah
Joseph is languishing in prison. Then, at the beginning of this week’s parashah, a sequence of events takes place, leading to the most rapid, radical change of fortune in the Bible. Pharaoh has two dreams that trouble his spirit. None of his priestly retinue can decode the dreams in a way that satisfies him. Pharaoh’s butler remembers Joseph. Hurriedly he is taken from prison, given a wash and change of clothes, and brought before the ruler.
Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks sheds great clarification on this story: “That is the narrative on the surface. One apparently insignificant detail, however, stands out. Pharaoh has had not one dream but two: one about cows, the other about ears of grain. Joseph explains that they are the same dream, conveying the same message through different images. Why then were there two? This is his explanation: That Pharaoh has dreamed this twice means that G-d is firmly resolved on this plan, and very soon He will put it into effect. (Genesis 41:32)
At first sight, this looks like just another piece of information. Understood in the full context of the Joseph narrative, however, it changes our entire understanding of events. For it was not Pharaoh alone who had two dreams with the same structure. So too did Joseph at the very beginning of the story: one about sheaves of wheat, the other about the sun, moon and stars… It is only in retrospect that we understand the story of our life.
Later events explain earlier ones. At the time, neither Joseph nor his brothers could know that his dreams were a form of prophecy: that he was indeed destined for greatness and that every misfortune he suffered had a part to play in their coming true. At first reading, the Joseph story reads like a series of random happenings. Only later, looking back, do we see that each event was part of a precise, providential plan to lead a young man from a family of nomadic shepherds to become second-in-command of Egypt. This is a truth not about Joseph alone but about us also.
We live our lives poised between a known past and an unknown future. Between them lies a present in which we make our choices. We decide between alternatives. Ahead of us are several diverging paths, and it is up to us which we follow. Only looking back does our life take on the character of a story. Only many years later do we realise which choices were fateful, and which irrelevant. Things which seemed small at the time turn out to be decisive. Matters that once seemed important prove in retrospect to have been trivial.
Seen from the perspective of the present, a life can appear to be a random sequence of disconnected events. It takes the passage of time for us to be able to look back and see the route we have taken, and the right and wrong turnings on the way.’..It is then, with hindsight, that we begin to see how providence has guided our steps, leading us to where G-d needs us to be. That is one meaning of the phrase spoken by G-d to Moses: “Then I shall take away My hand, and you will see My back, but My face cannot not be seen.” (Exodus 33: 23) Only looking back do we see G-d’s providence interwoven with our life, never looking forward (“My face cannot not be seen”). How subtly and deftly this point is made in the story of Joseph – the supreme example of a life in which human action and Divine intervention are inextricably entwined. It is all there in the verse about the doubling of Pharaoh’s dream.
By delaying this information until later in Joseph’s life, the Torah shows us how a later event can force us to re-interpret an earlier one, teaching us the difference between two time perspectives: the present, and the understanding that only hindsight can bring to the past. It does so not by expounding complex philosophical propositions, but by the art of story-telling – a far simpler and more powerful way of conveying a difficult truth. These two time perspectives are embodied, in Judaism, in two different literatures. Through halakhah, we learn to make choices in the present. Through aggadah we strive to understand the past. Together, these two ways of thinking constitute the twin hemispheres of the Jewish brain. We are free. But we are also characters in a Divinely scripted drama. We choose, but we are also chosen. The Jewish imagination lives in the tension between these two frames of reference: between freedom and providence, our decisions and G-d’s plan.”
~Devorah Abenhaim
Dec 12, 2025 | Torat Devorah
In this week’s parshah, we see the consequences of jealousy. Joseph’s brothers’ could no longer endure the favoritism that their father displayed towards their younger brother, and plotted to rid of him in some way. Joseph was thrown into a pit, and later sold to merchants as a slave.
Fully aware that they would have some explaining to do to their father Jacob when they returned without Joseph, the brothers “dipped the coat (Joseph’s coat that was a gift from Jacob) in its (a goat’s) blood” (Genesis 37:31). There are a few questions that need to be answered: 1) Why did the brother’s fabricate an elaborate charade about what transpired with Joseph, and 2) What made Jacob think that Joseph had been devoured by a wild beast? And why did Jacob, speaking about the beast, say both has devoured him and has torn him apart?Besides, the order of what happened should have been reversed!
The Alshekh answers these questions and explains as follows: The brothers had debated amongst themselves how to present Joseph’s absence. Had they claimed never to have seen him, their father would organize search parties, questioning all caravans in the region. He would find out about the Ishmaelites who had traveled to Egypt. If they would say that Joseph had been found dead, Jacob would demand to see his grave. If they would say that they had HEARD about an accident that had befallen him, they would be telling an outright lie. For these reasons, they felt it best to let Jacob form his own opinion on the basis of the faked evidence. Had they presented Joseph’s coat in an undamaged condition, Jacob would have reasoned that Joseph had taken it off, and would have searched for him, thinking him still alive. The brothers could now imply that Joseph’s fate was due to his having slandered them.
Jacob knew for certain that it was Joseph’s coat. Being unaware of any character weakness in Joseph except his tale bearing, he persuaded himself that Joseph had been punished in this cruel manner for his weakness. In the Torah, the warning not to listen to false information is preceded by the line throw it to the dogs in the book of Exodus. Shemot Rabba 31 points out that one who spreads false information deserves to be thrown to the dogs. Upon reflection, Jacob did not think that Joseph had been eaten alive; this seeing that he was made in the image of God and this having been reflected in his face even after having informed on his brothers. Therefore he assumed tarof, toraf – he had first been ripped apart by a free agent, i.e. a human being.
Afterwards, an animal had devoured his remains. This is why he repeated tarof toraf, i.e. he had been torn twice. He considered it possible that one of his sons had harmed Joseph. Jacob tore his clothing and wore sackcloth because he felt that if his interpretation of what happened was true, he himself was partly to blame. This, due to the fact that he had listened to Joseph’s tale bearing WITHOUT PROTESTING IT, although he had not believed the stories. When the brothers saw the depth of Jacob’s grief, they did not even attempt to offer words of condolence until a long time had elapsed. The Torah states that Jacob “mourned for his son for many years”. This was because of his exceptionally close bond that existed between the soul of Jacob and the soul of Joseph. He refused to accept consolation because of what he thought had been his own part in causing the tragedy. On the contrary, he felt that he himself was eventually going to die because of his complicity in Joseph’s fate. For all these considerations, our sages read v.35, his father wept for him, as referring to Isaac, who was aware that Joseph was still alive but dared not reveal it to his son, seeing that God had not seen fit to reveal it to him (Bereishit Rabba 84).
~Devorah Abenhaim
