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
