Dec 22, 2017 | Torat Devorah
In this week’s Parsha we learn of the reunion of Jacob with his beloved son Yosef. 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.
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
Dec 15, 2017 | Torat Devorah
Pharaoh dreamt two disturbing dreams and all his wise men failed to interpret them to his satisfaction. Pharaoh’s chief butler had previously been in the same jail as Joseph, where Joseph successfully interpreted his dreams. The butler now suggests that Pharaoh seek the advice of Joseph. Note how the butler recommends Joseph’s talents to Pharaoh:
“And there was with us there (in jail) a Hebrew lad (na’ar), a slave to the Captain of the Guard and we told him (our dreams), and he interpreted to us our dreams; to each man according to his dream he interpreted.” (Genesis 41:12).
What lesson for life can we learn from analyzing the butler’s words?
Rashi comments on the butler’s statement to Pharaoh: “Cursed be the wicked, for even their goodness is not complete. The butler praises Joseph’s ability, but in contemptuous terms:
- na’ar (a lad): a fool, and not fit for greatness;
- Hebrew: he doesn’t even know our language;
- a slave: and it is written in the statutes of Egypt that a slave cannot rule nor don royal garments.”
Rabbi Yeruchem Levovitz comments that the butler actually meant to speak well of Joseph, for Joseph had been kind to him. Nevertheless, a completely favorable statement will never emerge from the lips of a wicked person. Even when praising someone, he will off-handedly add a derogatory comment.
Rabbi Zelig Pliskin explains: ‘Every person should check his own behavior with regard to this pitfall. When you speak favorably of someone, do you habitually add something unfavorable? For example: “She is very charitable, and always makes sure that people know it” or “He’s very kindhearted now, but you should have seen him five years ago.” We must pay attention to what comes out of our mouths at all times. Otherwise, there might be unforeseen consequences.
Pharaoh said to Joseph: “In my dream, I am standing on the bank of the River. And behold, there come out of the River seven cows . . .” (41:17–18)
The Lubavitcher Rebbe comments: ‘In contrast, Joseph saw in his dream (recounted in the beginning of the previous Parshah) that “we were binding sheaves in the field . . .” Both Pharaoh and Joseph behold the future in their dreams, but with a significant difference. To Pharaoh life is a river, with himself standing on the riverbank—outside of its flow, a passive bystander to what transpires. To Joseph, life is a field within which he toils, laboring at “binding sheaves”—gathering its diverse stalks and binding them into an integral whole. Many are seduced by the enticements of Pharaonic life. “We remember the fish that we ate in Egypt for free,” the children of Israel grumbled (Numbers 11:5) when G‑d had stripped them of the shackles and security of slavery. Life is a free lunch in Pharaoh’s Egypt; there are no choices in your life, but neither is there the anxiety and responsibility they entail. You simply stand on the riverbank and watch the cows and years follow and consume one another. Pharaoh’s vision may be every vegetable’s utopia, but there is little satisfaction and no fulfillment in his free fish. It is only in the toilsome labor in the field of life that the most important freedom of all is to be found: the freedom to achieve and create.’
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
Dec 8, 2017 | Torat Devorah
Parashat Vayeshev recounts the story of Joseph and his brothers. Jacob loved Joseph and favored him over all his other sons. He made him a special ornamental coat, symbolic of this favoritism. Joseph’s brothers became jealous and hateful of Joseph. To make matters worse, Joseph tells his brothers about his two dreams that portrayed him as superior to them. This only causes the brothers to hate him more. This hatred grows and grows, to the point where they plot to kill him, throw him in a pit and end up selling him into slavery to traveling merchants. In the course of this story, the Torah states in chapter 27, verse 4 “They hated him and could not speak peaceably to him.” Clearly, the brothers had so much anger they could not even find a way to speak to him cordially or in a peaceful way. This is quite a bold statement. We are talking about flesh and blood brothers who relationship was so strained that they could not even find one kind word to share to help deflate tension and hatred in a peaceful way.
Rabbi Brad Horwitz of St.Louis comments: “I came across a commentary from Rabbi Yonatan Aibshitz, a chief Rabbi of Alton, Hamburg in the 18th century. He wrote, ‘If they [the brothers and Joseph] were to have spoken with one another, they would have made peace. The main deterrent in every dispute is when there is no communication and one side refuses to listen to the other. If mankind knew how to communicate they would see there is no basis for dispute.’ Rabbi Aibshitz makes an incredible insight about the nature of human behavior. Conflict can only be resolved by meaningful dialogue where both parties are active listeners. Unfortunately, people often do a poor job of active listening when attempting to communicate. In order for true peace and reconciliation to happen it is incumbent on both Joseph and his brothers to both communicate and listen, something that did not happen.”
The first word of the Torah portion, from which its name comes, sets the stage. Vayeshev, meaning “and he dwelled,” referring to Ya’akov, in another verbal form becomes va’y’yashev, meaning “and he made peace.” Rabbi Victor Weinstein explains: “We can simply dwell, or, aware of our actions and their consequences, we can dwell more deeply, making peace in the place where we dwell. Showing favoritism to Yosef, Ya’akov sowed seeds of jealousy and discord between Yosef and his brothers. Simmering over time, unholy sparks of jealousy were fanned into flames of hatred and violence. Thrown into a pit and reported to his father as dead, Yosef is eventually sold into slavery and comes down into Egypt in chains. In a fascinating commentary by Moshe Ben Yisrael Habagi, in his Torah volume called Chochmat HaMatzpun/The Wisdom of Conscience, we are guided to look honestly at the lives of our ancestors and to learn from negative example as well as positive. Of the brothers’ behavior we are told, ‘it is a matter both ancient and new.’ It is about our world, as well as theirs. Condemning their deed as “horrible, such a sin, such cruelty,” the writer then condemns Ya’akov for fostering such insensitivity in his sons through the favoritism of one. Helping us to see ‘the Torah of nonviolence,’ the commentator bids us look beneath the surface and see Torah as a guide for living in the world beyond the text: A Torah of truth that does not whitewash the deeds of the great and beloved ones…, the Torah of life teaches us that we are to learn from our holy ancestors – even from their perversions and shortcomings.”
It was told to Tamar: Behold, your father-in-law is going up to Timnah to shear his sheep (38:13) The Lubavitcher Rebbe offers his insights on this verse: “The town of Timnah is thus the prototype for all of life’s destinations. One never simply goes to Timnah; one either ascends or descends to it. The same is true of the journey of life. There are no two parallel points on the slope of human development, where every step is either a step up or a step down from its predecessor. This is also the lesson implicit in the lights of Chanukah (which always falls in proximity to the Torah reading of Vayeishev). One who kindles a single flame on the first night of the festival observes the mitzvah of kindling the Chanukah lights in the most optimal manner possible. But to kindle that same flame on the following night is not only a failure to increase light, but a decline in relation to yesterday’s achievement: on the second night of Chanukah, a single flame represents a less-than-optimal observance of the mitzvah. For in the diagonal trajectory of life, our every deed and endeavor either elevates or lowers us in relation to our prior station.”
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
Dec 1, 2017 | Torat Devorah
“Rescue me, I pray, from the hand of my brother, from the hand of Eisav.” (32:12)
Yaakov’s only brother was Eisav; why did he specify “The hand of my brother, the hand of Eisav”?Yaakov had two fears; physical and spiritual. Firstly, if Eisav and his army attacked him, he might be overpowered and killed. Secondly, if he became friendly with him, Eisav would be a bad influence on Yaakov’s family. Therefore, he prayed, “Rescue me from the hand of my brother,” that he should not harm them spiritually, through becoming a “brother” and good friend of the family. Also, he prayed that the vicious “hand” of Eisav should not attack and, G‑d forbid, physically harm the family.
The Gemara (Berachot 30b) says that when one is in the midst of prayer, even if the king greets him and inquires about his wellbeing or even if a snake is wound round his heel, he should not interrupt his prayers. In view of the abovementioned, this halachah can be explained metaphorically. Rabbi Shmuel Pesach Bagimilsky explains: “Throughout the long galut (exile), the Jewish people are confronted with basically two types of experiences: Sometimes we experience a seemingly benevolent government which expresses interest in our welfare and grants us equal rights. In other instances, governments encircle the Jewish people like a snake. We are oppressed, herded into ghettos, and suffer from the many restrictions placed upon us. Our wise sages are teaching us that, regardless how the situation appears, we should not disrupt our prayers. At all times we must continue to pray to Hashem that He liberate us from galut immediately.”
“And his eleven children.” (32:23) Rashi asks, “Where was Dinah?” Rashi gives the answer that she was hidden in a box and, therefore, was not counted. How does Rashi know that the reference to eleven children does not include the daughter Dinah? Perhaps it does not include one of the sons? The Kol Eliyahu comments: “One of the reasons why the Beit Hamikdash was built in Jerusalem on the land of Binyamin is that he was not born when Yaakov met Eisav and, thus, did not bow down to Eisav (Yalkut Mei’am Loez, Devarim 33:12). When Yaakov met Eisav, he had eleven sons and one daughter. If we should say that the eleven children included Dinah and one of the sons was hidden in the box, then that child would deserve that the Beit Hamikdash be built on his land more than Binyamin; because he was already born and did not bow down to Eisav, while Binyamin was not even born at the time. Therefore, Rashi knew that the missing child had to be Dinah, who did not get a share of Eretz Yisrael.”
“And Yaakov was left alone; and a man wrestled with him, until the break of the dawn. And when he saw that he prevailed not against him, he touched the hollow of his thigh.” (32:25-26)Why did the angel wrestle with Yaakov and not with Avraham or Yitzchak? Rabbi Elchanan Wasserman explains: “The world stands upon three pillars: Torah study, service of Hashem (prayer), and acts of kindness. Each of the three patriarchs was the prototype of one of these pillars. Avraham excelled in chesed — kindness. Yitzchak was associated with prayer, as the pasuk states: “Vayeitzei Yitzchak lasuach basadeh” — “And Yitzchak went out to meditate in the field” (24:63). Yaakov was “ish tam yosheiv ohalim” — “a sincere man, dwelling in tents” (25:27). He spent his time in the “tents” of Torah. The “man” who wrestled with Yaakov was the angel of Eisav. He was the adversary of the Jewish people, and striving to bring about, G‑d forbid, their destruction. Of the three patriarchs he had little fear of Avraham because the continuity of the Jewish people (Yiddishkeit) cannot be contingent on acts of kindness such as building hospitals for the sick and homes for the aged. Nor can the posterity of the Jewish people (Yiddishkeit) be assured through people reciting their prayers on a daily basis. The secret of our existence is the study of Torah and teaching it to our children as soon as they are of age to understand it. Thus, by obstructing the study of Torah, the representative of Eisav hoped to jeopardize the continuity of the Jewish people. This battle is a never ending one, and even when unable to topple Yaakov himself, Eisav tries to “wrestle” with “kaf yereicho” — “the hollow of his thigh” — which represents the children and future generations of Yaakov. [When the Torah enumerates the family of Yaakov, it calls them “yotzei yereicho” — “[who] came out of his thighs” (46:26).]
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
Nov 24, 2017 | Torat Devorah
Jacob came to a certain place [vayifga bamakom] and stopped for the night because the sun had set. Taking one of the stones there, he put it under his head and lay down to sleep. He had a dream. He saw a ladder resting on the earth, with its top reaching heaven. G-d’s angels were going up and down on it. There above it stood G-d . . . Jacob awoke from his sleep and said, “G-d is truly in this place, but I did not know it.” He was afraid and said, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of G-d; this is the gate of heaven.” (28:11-17)
Rabbi Lord JOnathan Sacks explains: “On the basis of this passage the sages said that “Jacob instituted the evening prayer.” The inference is based on the word vayifga which can mean not only, “he came to, encountered, happened upon” but also “he prayed, entreated, pleaded” as in Jeremiah 7: 16, “Neither lift up cry nor prayer for them nor make intercession to Me [ve-al tifga bi]…There is, however, a difficulty with the idea that Jacob introduced the evening prayer. In a famous episode in the Talmud, Rabbi Joshua takes the view that, unlike shacharit or minchah, the evening prayer is not obligatory (though, as the commentators note, it has become obligatory through the acceptance of generations of Jews). Why, if it was instituted by Jacob, was it not held to carry the same obligation as the prayers of Abraham and Isaac?” Rabbi Sacks goes on to explains that there are traditional answers, but he offers a more profound solution to this question: “A different linguistic construction is used for each of the three occasions that the sages saw as the basis of prayer. Abraham “rose early in the morning to the place where he had stood before G-d” (19:27). Isaac “went out to meditate [lasuach] in the field towards evening” (24:63). Jacob “met, encountered, came across” G-d [vayifga bamakom]. These are different kinds of religious experience. Abraham initiated the quest for G-d. He was a creative religious personality – the father of all those who set out on a journey of the spirit to an unknown destination, armed only with the trust that those who seek, find. Abraham sought G-d before G-d sought him. Isaac’s prayer is described as a sichah, literally, a conversation or dialogue. There are two parties to a dialogue – one who speaks and one who listens, and having listened, responds. Isaac represents the religious experience as conversation between the word of G-d and the word of mankind. Jacob’s prayer is very different. He does not initiate it. His thoughts are elsewhere – on Esau from whom he is escaping, and on Laban to whom he is travelling. Into this troubled mind comes a vision of G-d and the angels and a stairway connecting earth and heaven. He has done nothing to prepare for it. It is unexpected. Jacob literally “encounters” G-d as we can sometimes encounter a familiar face among a crowd of strangers. This is a meeting brought about by G-d, not man. That is why Jacob’s prayer could not be made the basis of a regular obligation. None of us knows when the presence of G-d will suddenly intrude into our lives. There is an element of the religious life that is beyond conscious control. It comes out of nowhere, when we are least expecting it. If Abraham represents our journey towards G-d, and Isaac our dialogue with G-d, Jacob signifies G-d’s encounter with us – unplanned, unscheduled, unexpected; the vision, the voice, the call we can never know in advance but which leaves us transformed. As for Jacob so for us, it feels as if we are waking from a sleep and realising as if for the first time that “G-d was in this place and I did not know it.” The place has not changed, but we have. Such an experience can never be made the subject of an obligation. It is not something we do. It is something that happens to us. Vayfiga bamakom means that, thinking of other things, we find that we have walked into the presence of G-d. Such experiences take place, literally or metaphorically, at night. They happen when we are alone, afraid, vulnerable, close to despair. It is then that, when we least expect it, we can find our lives flooded by the radiance of the divine. Suddenly, with a certainty that is unmistakable, we know that we are not alone, that G-d is there and has been all along but that we were too preoccupied by our own concerns to notice Him. That is how Jacob found G-d – not by his own efforts, like Abraham; not through continuous dialogue, like Isaac; but in the midst of fear and isolation. Jacob, in flight, trips and falls – and finds he has fallen into the waiting arms of G-d. No one who has had this experience, ever forgets it. “Now I know that You were with me all the time but I was looking elsewhere.”That was Jacob’s prayer. There are times when we speak and times when we are spoken to. Prayer is not always predictable, a matter of fixed times and daily obligation. It is also an openness, a vulnerability. G-d can take us by surprise, waking us from our sleep, catching us as we fall.”
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
Nov 17, 2017 | Torat Devorah
The Torah states: “And Yitzhak was forty years old when he took Rivkah, the daughter of Besuail the Aromite, from Padan Arom, the sister of Lavan the Aromite, for himself for a wife” (Genesis 25:20) The Torah has already stated (in last week’s Torah portion) that Rivkah was the daughter of Besuail, the sister of Lavan, and was from Padan Aram. What do we learn from this seemingly superfluous information? Rashi asks this question and answers that the Torah is emphasizing the praises of Rivkah. She was the daughter of an evil person, the sister of an evil person and lived in a community of evil people. Nevertheless, she did not learn from their behavior! Many people try to excuse their faults by blaming others as the cause of their behavior. “It’s not my fault I have this bad trait, I learned it from my father and mother.” “I’m not to blame for this bad habit since all my brothers and sisters do it also.” “Everyone in my neighborhood does this or does not do that, so how could I be any different?” They use this as a rationalization for failing to make an effort to improve. We see from Rivkah that regardless of the faulty behavior of those in your surroundings, you have the ability to be more elevated. Of course, it takes courage and a lot of effort to be different. The righteous person might be considered a nonconformist and even rebellious by those in his environment whose standard of values are below his level. However, a basic Torah principle is that we are responsible for our own actions. Pointing to others in your environment who are worse than you is not a valid justification for not behaving properly.
The Torah states: “And Isaac loved Esau because he was a was a trapper with his mouth…” (Gen. 25:28). This means that Esau successfully deceived his father regarding his level of righteousness. Rabbi Eliyahu Eliezer Dessler cited the Arizal (a famous kabbalist) that it is a mistake to think that Esau was a complete hypocrite and just tried to deceive his father. If Isaac made an error, there must have been good reason for such an error. The problem with Esau was that he kept all his spirituality “in his mouth,” without swallowing it. He spoke spiritual words, but did not become a spiritual person. Therefore, said Rav Dessler, anyone who speaks ethical and spiritual words without allowing them to penetrate his heart and soul is a colleague of the evil Esau. Rabbi Pliskin explains: The essence of an elevated person is to be totally integrated: the Torah ideals that one talks about must be part of his very being. There are many different levels along a continuum. Some people are unaware of how far they are from actually feeling what they say. Such a person can say he loves everyone deeply, but a perceptive person can tell that although he believes that he feels that way, in actuality he is very far from it. It is not sufficient to just repeat words like a parrot or a tape recorder. Whenever you learn a new idea, keep reviewing it until little by little it penetrates your soul and your words truly become part of you.
“And Yitzhak called Ya’akov, and blessed him, and commanded him saying, ‘You shall not take a wife from the daughters of Canaan’ “ (Genesis 28:1). What is the connection between Yitzhak blessing his son and then admonishing him? The Chofetz Chaim, Rabbi Yisroel Meir Kagan, a great rabbi of the last generation, commented that we learn from here the most effective manner in which to reproach someone. Show that you truly care about his welfare; he will more readily listen to your reprimand. Often people who mean well give reproof in a harsh manner or by yelling — particularly if the recipient is one’s own child. Every person wants to do the right thing. If we can focus on our love for the other person, our desire to genuinely help and our knowledge that the other person wants to be good, then we can speak softly and give admonition which will be heard.
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
