Dec 15, 2015 | Torat Devorah
The Torah tells us that when Yosef became aware that his father Yaakov had come to Egypt, “Yosef harnessed his chariot and went up to meet Israel his father in Goshen.” Rashi cites Chazal who explain, “He personally harnessed his chariot in order to honor his father with cheerfully and with exuberance.” Yosef did not want to be delayed in honoring his father by delegating this task to his servants. The Torah tells us that Avraham, our Patriarch and Bilaam the evil one both harnessed their own donkeys when they had set out on their individual objectives. The Torah tells us regarding Avraham, that he harnessed his own donkey when he was told to perform the Akeidah (The Binding of Yitzchak). Chazal explain that although Avraham was extremely wealthy and was 137 years old at the time, he harnessed his own donkey rather than delegating it to his servants because “Love disrupts all protocol.” Avraham’s love for G’d was to such a degree that at that moment all that existed was fulfilling the Will of G’d. His sense of self at that moment did not exist. We also find that when Bilaam, the prophet for the nations of the world, embarked on his journey to curse the Jewish people to destroy them he hitched his own donkey. Chazal explain the reason for this was, “Hate disrupts all protocol.” Bilaam’s intense and all consuming hate for the Jewish people caused him to be singularly focused on his mission to destroy the Jewish people. His sense of self had no relevance at that moment, although he was a selfabsorbed and egotistic person. One would think that regarding Yosef harnessing his own chariot, despite being the Viceroy of Egypt, Chazal would have also said that this is another example of, “Love disrupts all protocol.” Yosef’s special love for his father Yaakov would have caused him not to focus on his own status. However, Chazal do not say this. Rather, Yosef harnessed his own donkey so that he could honor his father without delay. Why is this example not similar to that of Avraham harnessing his own donkey? Rabbi Yosef Kalatsky comments: The Torah tells us that when Yaakov came to Egypt, although the famine was initially meant to be for seven years it ceased upon his arrival to do his merit. The famine thus lasted only two years. The ending of the famine due to Yaakov’s arrival was a sanctification of G’d’s Name. Despite the fact that the Egyptian people were pagans, they understood that the ending of the famine was due to Yaakov, who was the representation of the Omnipotent G’d in existence. This was only a sanctification of G’d’s Name because the people had a sense of Yaakov’s importance and value due to the Viceroy’s hitching his own chariot. Since the Egyptian people were aware that Yosef, the Viceroy, who was one of the most renowned and powerful personalities in the world, harnessing his own chariot to accord his father proper honor in the most expedient manner, they realized that Yaakov must of an exceptional dimension of person. When Yaakov had come to Egypt he had given a special blessing to Pharaoh that the Nile would rise in his presence. By doing so, it provided water to all of Egypt. Thus, Yaakov, the man of G’d, became synonymous with the one who gives life. Regarding Avraham’s harnessing of his own donkey, it was purely out of his love for G’d. No one was aware of the objective of his mission to bring his son to the Akeidah. Thus, it was only to reveal to us that “love disrupts all protocol.”
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
Dec 10, 2015 | Torat Devorah
The royal butler and the royal baker were distressed by their inability to understand their dreams on their own. But we may ask, what was so original and brilliant about the interpretation offered by Yosef? Could the butler not have understood on his own that “Pharaoh’s goblet was in my hand, and I took the grapes and pressed them into Pharaoh’s goblet, AND GAVE THE GOBLET INTO PHARAOH’S HAND” (40:11) meant that, as Yosef informs him, “Pharaoh will lift up your head and restore you to your position AND YOU SHALL GIVE PHARAOH’S GOBLET INTO HIS HAND, as in the beginning, when you would give him to drink”? After all, the dream describes precisely what is supposed to happen, without any parables or metaphors! Indeed, that is what really transpires: “He restored the chief butler to his butlership, AND HE GAVE THE GOBLET INTO PHARAOH’S HAND.”
It seems that the great mystery of the butler’s dream lay in its introduction: “Behold, there was a vine before me, and the vine had three tendrils, and it was as though it was budding, its blossoms came forth, and its clusters offered ripe grapes.” The fact that a vine features in the dream of the chief butler obviously comes as no surprise, but what is the meaning of the three tendrils?
Yosef interprets this aspect, too: “Yosef said to him, This is its interpretation: the three tendrils are three days.” How did Yosef know this?
Rav Amnon Bazak explains: ‘Until now, the dreams have been explainable in a logical manner, so it is reasonable to assume that here, too, the solution was in front of their eyes. I believe that Yosef was well aware of the fact that in three days’ time Pharaoh would celebrate his birthday and hold a banquet for all his servants. In his wisdom, Yosef put two and two (or three and three) together, positing that the three tendrils meant the three days until this special occasion. Now we can also understand the baker’s behavior. It is patently obvious that his dream – “in the top basket were all kinds of baked foods for Pharaoh, and the birds were eating them from the basket atop my head” – does not bode well. But the baker, too, is stumped by the significance of the “three woven baskets atop my head.” Again, Yosef states without hesitation: “Yosef answered and he said, This is its interpretation: the three baskets are three days.” Yosef gained enormously from this episode. He learned here that the presence of a certain number of items in a dream signifies that many units of time. This knowledge will be useful to him in the future. However, this leaves us with a difficult question. Yosef approaches the butler with a poignant request: “But keep me in mind when it will be good for you, and please show kindness to me, and mention me to Pharaoh, that you may bring me out of this house. For I was stolen from the land of the Hebrews; here, too, I have done nothing that they should put me in the dungeon.” Why, then, at the end of the chapter, do we learn that “the butler did not remember Yosef, and he forgot him”? Rashi quotes Chazal, who teach that Yosef’s request of the butler was improper: “Because Yosef put his faith in him [the butler] to remember him, he ended up being in prison for another two years.” However, on the literal level, it is difficult to understand Yosef’s action as being improper (see Ramban). Is a person then forbidden to act to the best of his abilities in order to save himself from unjustified imprisonment? For this reason, it appears that Yosef’s continued imprisonment resulted solely from the evolution of that wondrous Divine plan that had guided his fate thus far. During the course of the next two years, Yosef came to understand that the time had not yet come for his dreams to be realized. Indeed, what would he have amounted to if the butler had remembered him? Clearly, the future held a greater potential for the realization of his dreams. Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
Dec 2, 2015 | Torat Devorah
And Joseph brought to his father their evil report (37:2) In Pirkei d’Rabbeinu HaKadosh it explains: Said the sages: two righteous men were punished on account of the bearing of malevolent reports: Jacob and Joseph. Because Joseph spoke evilly of his brothers, he was incarcerated in prison for 12 years; and because Jacob listened to these reports, the Divine spirit departed from him for 22 years. This teaches us that one who speaks negatively of another is punished once, while someone who listens to negative talk of another is twice punished. Rabbi PInchas Kasnett sees this differently. He comments that even though Yosef brought an evil report about his brothers to his father, it is indicative of his superior character, for his intention was to improve their behavior. Yosef certainly did not slander them with his own opinion. Rather, he reported to his father in privacy what others were saying about them. Yosef’s actions were based entirely on his love for his brothers, not by a desire to elevate himself at their expense. Yaakov’s love for Yosef was not the normal love of a father for his son. It was based on something deeper. When Yosef is described as “the son of his old age”, this hints at Yosef’s ability to relate to everyone in the family uniquely and individually. To his brothers he was a youth who respected their seniority. But he dealt with Yaakov with a gentleness and moderation which indicated that he saw himself as a true son, not just a youth deferring to the seniority of the father. Yaakov perceived this as a sign of his superior intelligence and character and therefore loved him more than the other brothers. Onkelos in his Aramaic translation conveys this idea as he renders the verse, “son of his old age” as “son of wisdom.” Yosef had none of the impetuousness of youth. He thought through situations carefully, acting quickly when necessary and being deliberate when
When they had been in custody for some time, both of them — the cupbearer and the baker of the king of Egypt, who were confined in the prison — dreamed in the same night, each his own dream and each dream with its own meaning. . . “(Bereshit/ Genesis 40:4-5)
Both the cup-bearer and the baker dreamed a dream, so why does the verse need to say that “each dreamed his own dream?” Some commentators, including Rashi, say that “each his own” along with “each dream with its own meaning” implies that each man dreamed his own dream but also the interpretation of the other’s dream- and that, in turn, is how they knew that Yosef was inspired in his own dream interpretation, because Yosef spoke what each man knew about the other. Rabbi Neal Joseph Loevinger explains: ‘Perhaps the simple meaning of the verse is also important: the verse stresses that each man dreamed his own dream in order to show us that Yosef has matured from the days when he saw himself as the center of the universe. That’s exactly the symbolism Yosef himself used, for the dream of Yosef’s youth showed the stars, the sun and moon bowing down to him. Now, some time later, after some hard-won experiences which have taught Yosef humility and gratitude, he is able to understand that each person dreams their own dream- that is, each person is the center of a world, and we honor them by hearing well what they are truly saying. Yosef was able to discern the tragedy of one man’s life and the restoration of another’s because he heard them with humility and the recognition that truly knowing another is a gift from God.’
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
Nov 26, 2015 | Torat Devorah
Jacob is returning home to the land of Canaan after twenty year’s absence, having fled the anger of his brother Esau who had threatened to kill him for having stolen the birthright and blessing of the first-born. Dividing his children and their mothers, and the flocks he has acquired, into groups, all of them bearing gifts, Jacob hopes to appease his brother, who he has been told is approaching with four hundred men. Appearing to spontaneously put aside his plan to approach Esau last, perhaps recognizing the cowardice and cruelty of putting others in danger first, even according to a hierarchy of love, Jacob went up ahead “until he came close to his brother.” Telling most poignantly of the reunion, of fear transformed, the Torah says, and Esau ran to meet him, fell upon his neck and kissed him; and they wept/va’yishakeyhu va’yivku. Above the six Hebrew letters of va’yishakeyhu/and he kissed him, there is a dot above each letter, even as the word is written in the Torah scroll itself. Such dots, appearing above a few other words in the Torah as well, are offered by the rabbis as an invitation to interpret the word, to enter and wrestle with something deeper than meets the eye. In the playful way of tradition, when there are more letters without dots than dotted ones, we are to interpret by combining the letters without dots, but when there are more letters with dots than without, then we are to interpret by combining the letters with dots. In our case, va’yishakeyhu has an equal number of letters and dots. We are then left with a choice as to how to interpret, whether at face value or in another way. Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar says of the choice offered by the same number of letters and dots, “it teaches that Esau’s compassion was aroused in that moment, and he kissed him with all his heart.” Questioning why there would be any dots at all if the word is to be interpreted at face value, the midrash continues with the view of Rabbi Yanai, who explains that rather, it comes to teach us that Esau did not come to kiss him, but to bite him. In the Torah text itself, Esau in fact urges Jacob to keep the gifts, that he has enough. But to Esau’s urging that the brothers go on together, Jacob finds reason to decline, blighting the possibility of deeper connection. In a stirring commentary, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch would disagree with both Rabbi Yannai and Jacob himself, amplifying in a voice so loud and clear the words of Rabbi Shimon. Reflecting on Esau as the hunter, the one who knows the art of weaponry, Hirsch writes from mid-nineteenth century Germany, this kiss, and these tears show us that Esau was also a descendant of Abraham…. Esau gradually more and more lays the sword aside, turns gradually more and more towards humaneness…. It is only when the strong, as here Esau, fall round the necks of the weak and cast the sword of violence far away, only then does it show that right and humaneness have made a conquest. Hirsch’s insight into the dynamics between Jacob and Esau at the time of their reunion points to an essential element of nonviolence, and the recognition of the other’s humanity. While praising the change that is taking place in Esau, Hirsch is also giving credit to Jacob, however much we might fault him. Rabbi Victor Hillel Reinstein explains: In a moment of spontaneous joy, Jacob, wounded in his thigh from his night wrestling with an angel, limps toward his heavily armed brother who is surrounded by a retinue prepared for battle. Unarmed and vulnerable, knowing of his brother’s promise to kill him, Jacob bows to the ground seven times in approaching his brother. Without diminishing the change that is also occurring in Esau, Jacob has acted in such a way as to allow Esau to respond in kind: and Esau ran to meet him, fell upon his neck and kissed him; and they wept. The possibility of transformation lies in the way that we approach the other. Whether it is with open arms or a clenched fist, whether to put down the sword, as it was for Esau, or the well rehearsed inner defenses that preclude reconciliation, as it was for Jacob. There is a fine line between the way it has always been, and the way that it could be. The fineness of that line and the narrow span between potential and real is contained in that one word of six dotted letters va’yishakeyhu/and he kissed him. The word for kiss and for weapon in Hebrew is formed of the exact same root, NaShaK. A kiss, a touch, a meeting together — n’shikah; weapons, arms, a means of defense – neshek. It is all in the way that we approach the other. As Jews, we have at times been wary of the other, ancient wounds that are carried, limping like Jacob toward wholeness. If Jacob’s way in that moment of transformation brought out the best in Esau, the deceiver now reaching out, vulnerable and revealed, he was yet too fearful to remain in his brother’s embrace. A way had been opened, though, a start had been made, a seed of hope planted in the possibility of another way. Acknowledging the pain that has been, our calling is toward oneness, to reach out with courage and faith and see the sword put aside, recognizing the capacity for change in the other as well as in ourselves. In the day when reunion blossoms into reconciliation, the warmth of a kiss and of tears upon each other’s cheek, we shall accept the hand extended and walk on together.
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
Nov 19, 2015 | Torat Devorah
“He had a dream; a ladder was set on the ground and its top reached the sky, and angels of God were going up and down on it. And the Lord was standing beside him [or ‘upon it’]” (Gen. 28:12-13).
According to Maimonides, the purpose of the ladder is to explain the relationship between two realities, between existence on earth and existence in the “world of heavenly spheres,” both of which are set in motion by God. Jacob sees “angels of God” on the ladder. Those “going up and down on it” are the prophets who, from studying the ladder–the connection between the two worlds, i.e., God’s providence–are elevated to a higher, heavenly level of understanding. That is why it says “going up and down”; first they ascend and become inspired, then they descend and transmit the understanding they acquired to the world. In addition, “God stands on it,” e.g., on the “ladder”; this means God is there constantly, as the Prime Mover, the Cause that governs and is providence over all. According to Maimonides, the dream is a representation of the two worlds, and Jacob, as the person who contemplates the ladder, e.g., the connection between the worlds, attains an understanding of God and of His ways in our world.
Thus, the dream teaches Man to attain an understanding of the Deity and to reach the level of prophecy.
A different interpretation of the ladder follows from the commentaries of the great hassidic leader R. Shneur Zalman of Lyady and R. Hayyim of Volozhin, a disciple of the Vilna Gaon. According to their approaches, the ladder symbolized the stages by which a person ascends in spirituality. The ladder has “angels of God going up and down on it”, because the entire universe, including the angels, ascends and descends along the rungs by which human beings ascend and descend, and in their wake. That is to say, everything depends on human deeds, ascending as mankind ascends, and descending as mankind descends.
According to these interpretations, the dream teaches us Man’s centrality in the universe, his responsibility to all God’s creatures, and the total dependence of everything, including celestial beings, on humans and their deeds. Although R. Schneur Zalman of Lyady and R. Hayyim of Volozhin represent different schools of Jewish thought, both were influenced by mysticism and both indicate that they viewed human beings as superior even to the angels
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
Nov 12, 2015 | Torat Devorah
There is a midrashic tradition that paints Esau in dark colors. But there is a counter-tradition that sets him in a more positive light. First, Esau was indeed blessed by Isaac. In fact, his blessing came true long before Jacob’s did. The Torah emphasizes the point: “These are the kings of Edom [i.e. the descendants of Esau] who ruled before any king reigned over Israel” (Gen. 36: 31). Esau’s descendants were settled in their land while Jacob and his children were enduring exile. Second, Moses commands the Israelites: “Do not hate an Edomite, for he is your brother” (Deut. 23: 8). G-d too commands the people to respect Esau’s children and their territorial integrity. Third, the sages admired Esau’s intense love and devotion toward Isaac. Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel said: “No man ever honored his father as I honored mine, but I found that Esau honored his father more than I honored mine.” The Zohar states that “No one in the world honored his father as Esau honored his.”
One reader, however, asked Rabbi Sacks the following question: How could one say Esau was loved by God this in the light of the verse from Malachi: “I have loved you,” says the Lord. “But you ask, ‘How have you loved us?’ “Was not Esau Jacob’s brother?” the LORD says. “Yet I have loved Jacob, but Esau I have hated . . .” The Vilna Gaon comments that the phrase, “Esau I have hated” refers only to “the peripheral part of Esau” not his essence. The verse in Malachi refers to particular historical circumstances. During the First Temple period there were conflicts and wars between the Israelites and Edomites. The prophet Amos attributes particular cruelty to Edom: “He pursued his brother with a sword, stifling all compassion, because his anger raged continually and his fury flamed unchecked” (Amos 1:11). Malachi is therefore speaking about a specific historical era, not eternity.
Rav Kook believed that just as in the Torah, Jacob and Esau, Isaac and Ishmael, were eventually reconciled, so will Judaism, Christianity and Islam be in future. They would not cease to be different, but they would learn to respect one another. Rabbi Sacks summarizes: ‘The point touches upon a fundamental of Judaism. What does it mean when we call Jews “the chosen people”? Does it mean that in choosing Jacob, G-d rejected Esau? Or that in choosing Abraham, G-d rejected humanity? G-d forbid. In the Torah, G-d appears to several non-Jews, among them Abraham’s contemporary, Malkizedek, described in the Torah as “a priest of G-d most high.” One of the great heroines of the Bible, the woman who saves Moses’ life, was an Egyptian, Pharaoh’s daughter. And so on. We believe as a matter of principle that “the righteous of the nations have a share in the world to come. When Jacob was chosen, Esau was not rejected. G-d does not reject. “Though my mother and father might abandon me, the Lord will take me in” (Ps. 27: 10). Chosenness means two things: intimacy and responsibility. G-d holds us close and make special demands on us. Beyond that, G-d is the G-d of all mankind – the Author of all, who cares for all, and is accessible to all. In an age of resurgent religious conflict, these are truths we must never forget.
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
