Vayigash 5772

Parshas Vayigash concludes with a lengthy recounting of Yosef’s successful management of the Egyptian famine relief program. Holding a monopoly of supplies, Yosef exchanges edibles for the entire nation’s wealth. Money, livestock, land, and finally the people themselves are all surrendered to Yosef, acting of course in the name of Pharoah. 

The Meshech Chochmah contends that this acquisition of national wealth on behalf of Pharaoh is a preparation for the fulfillment of a Divine promise. When Hashem foretold the Egyptian enslavement to Avraham Avinu, he promised that at its conclusion the Jews would leave Egypt with great wealth. (See Bereishis 15:14.) This was realized when the Jews upon departing “borrowed” gold, silver, and clothing from their Egyptian neighbors. These items were not returned but rather withheld as payment for their servitude. (See Sanhedrin 91a.) This is problematic however. The Jews were slaves of Pharaoh’s regime as we read in the Haggadah, “We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt,” not slaves of the Egyptian civilians. (See Ramban Shemos 1:11 where he proves this from the words of Chazal although the literal meaning of the verse suggests otherwise.) If so, how could the payment be collected from the population at large? The answer, says the Meshech Chochmah, is that all the wealth of the nation belonged to Pharaoh. Through Yosef’s acquisition of the people as slaves, their assets were forfeited to the royal treasury.

Taking this argument a step further we may suggest that Yosef’s acts were a preparation for the fulfillment of the Divine promise in an even more fundamental way.

We tend to think that Pharaoh was an absolute authoritarian whose decisions were never questioned and who was unanswerable to public opinion. From the words of the Ramban a different picture emerges. The Ramban (Shemos 1:10) asks a very simple question: When Pharaoh expressed his fear of the Jewish population explosion and suggested that enslavement would reduce the birth rate, why did he not recommend an even more effective solution – a program of genocide. To this the Ramban gives an astounding answer: The Egyptian people would not have tolerated such an injustice! Apparently Pharaoh also was concerned for his approval rating.

But this opens the door to a new question: Why did Pharaoh think that the Egyptians would tolerate the enslavement of an innocent people? The answer must lie in the fact that Yosef’s historic actions transformed the social contract between Pharoah and the Egyptian nation. Previously, they functioned as monarch and subjects; afterward as master and slaves. As slaves to Pharaoh, the Egyptian people would certainly have no objection to the enslavement of the Jews. In reality, the enslavement of the Jews was nothing more than a retraction of the special privileges they enjoyed as relatives of Yosef; now they would be slaves just like everybody else.

[If this conjecture is correct, we can understand why the tribe of Levi was not enslaved in Egypt (Rashi Shemos 5:4 based on the Midrash Rabbah). As Pharaoh’s prerogative to enslave the Jews was a consequence of the precedent that Yosef established, he was limited by that precedent and in Yosef’s decree (Bereishis 47:22) the priestly caste was exempted.]

Thus, Yosef’s actions are both a preparation both for the enslavement and for the redemption and, as well, a demonstration of the mysterious way in which Hashem guides the course of history through the actions and decisions of human beings.

Chanukah II 5772

The fact that Chanukah always coincides with the reading of the story of Yosef and his brothers has provided much raw material for the creative minds of our people.  Perhaps we can suggest a modest addition to this wealth of interpretation.

One noteworthy aspect of the Yosef stories is the central role that dreams play.  Three sets of dreams – those of Yosef himself, those of the Baker and the Wine-Steward, and finally those of Pharoah – advance the plot from stage to stage. A dream, of course, is unlike genuine prophesy.  In prophesy/Nevuah a substantive message is communicated to the prophet; it has a single valid interpretation upon which the prophet and/or his audience must act. Regarding dreams, Chazal teach that their ultimate meaning depends on the interpretation that they are given.  (The Gemara in Berachos relates the fabulous story of the dream interpreter Bar Hadia who gave positive interpretations to those who paid and negative interpretations to those who did not. All the interpretations came to pass!) In a sense, dreams merely provide a range of possibilities, much in the way that an opponent’s moves in a chess game create the array of possible moves for his partner.

Yosef is the first major figure in the Torah who is not a prophet; Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov all receive direct communication from Hashem.  They face challenges, but not challenges which force them to make decisions. They are commanded to do difficult things and they face distressing and uncomfortable situations which tempt them to lose their faith, but the course of action they are meant to pursue is provided.  Yosef, lacking prophetic communication, faces decision after decision. How is he to deal with his jealous and resentful brothers?  How is he to resist the temptation of Potifar’s wife?  Is his attempt to secure his release from prison by asking the Wine-Steward to intervene with Pharoah a lack of faith?  Shall he take revenge against his brothers when the opportunity presents itself?  The dreams suggest possibilities but provide no clarity.

The story of Chanukah occurs at a point of Jewish history where a similar transition was taking place.  During the period of the First Temple, we were blessed with Neveim who spoke in the name of Hashem. (Had we listened to them much calamity could have been avoided.) There was no lack of clarity; the test of our lives was to resist the Yetzer Ha’Ra for idolatry which is described in the Talmudic legend as a “fiery lion”.  In the beginning of the Second Temple period, the members of the K’nesses HaGedolah – the great assembly of the sages of Israel – prayed that this “fiery lion” be removed and Hashem acquiesced.  At that point, to counterbalance the lightening of our challenge, we were given a challenge of a different sort – the loss of clarity that came with the end of prophesy. (See Meshech Chochma, Bamidbar 11:17 who elaborates on this connection.)

The advent of Hellenism, a secular ideology which provided theaters and libraries, gymnasia and academies, came at a time when the Jews were least equipped to deal with such challenges.  Lacking the traditional sources of inspiration – prophetic messages – our leaders delved deeply into the Torah to draw out the relevant lessons that are well hidden beneath the surface.  The Torah sages thus fulfilled the role that had been occupied by the Neveim in an earlier era.

The Aron and the Menorah both symbolize aspects of Torah. The Aron was the repository for the Luchos and the scroll of the Torah; the Menorah, whose flames convert oil into energy, symbolizes the enlightenment that is derived from the process of deep, penetrating study.  The centrality of the Menorah to the Chanukah story is indicative of the major transformation in Jewish life that was taking place in this historic period.

Chanukah 5772

The Talmud in Maseches Shabbos cites a dispute between Bais Hillel and Bais Shammai as to the proper procedure for lighting the Chanukah candles. According to Bais Hillel, we kindle one light on the first night, two on the second, adding on each successive night; according to Bais Shammai we kindle eight lights on the first night, seven on the second, and so on, reducing the number of lights on each successive night. The rationale of Bais Hillel, continues the Talmud, is the well-established principle of Ma’alin B’kodesh – in matters of holiness we always ascend from the lower level to the higher. Bais Shammai, on the other hand, follows the precedent of the seventy Parei Hachag – the Mussaf offerings of Succos in the Bais HaMikdosh – where thirteen bulls were brought on the first day, twelve on the second, etc. Although the Halacha is decided in favor of Bais Hillel, an analysis of the contrary position may provide perspective and insight.

The Sfas Emes suggests that fire – the essence of the Chanukah lights – has two aspects: it consumes and it illuminates. These two aspects correspond to two different strategies that we may employ in dealing with the challenges of foreign culture, which of course was the underlying issue in the original conflict between the Hellenist Greeks and Yisrael.

When confronted by alien ideologies – the “isms” of various types – we may attempt to refute them and dispute their validity. In this case we are employing the light of Torah to “consume” and destroy anything that is antithetical. In this approach we begin with all the different “isms” and eliminate them one by one until we are left with pure, authentic, unadulterated Jewish values. Just as a ten story building which is set ablaze is ultimately reduced to rubble, so is the entire structure of foreign belief reduced. To symbolize this, Bais Shammai kindles the Chanukah lights in a manner that reflects this ongoing reduction just as the seventy Parei Hachag, corresponding to the seventy nations, will be diminished in the Messianic Age.

There is, however, a second approach. Rather than attacking the foreign ideologies directly, we may opt to focus on the study and integration of Torah values, adding a bit more light every day. Ultimately the darkness is dispelled by the increasing light. (I once heard that bank tellers are trained to recognize counterfeit currency by handling real money, not by studying the counterfeit bills and recognizing their flaws.) This is the approach of Bais Hillel and is symbolized by his method – which is the normative practice according to the Halacha – of kindling the Chanukah lamps.

The Michtav M’eliyahu offers another explanation. The Midrash suggests that the pattern of the Parei Hachag is analogous to a host who welcomed a guest into his home. The first night of the guest’s stay he is served a lavish meal; on subsequent nights the fare becomes simpler and simpler until ultimately it is actually quite meager. While we would have hoped that the Temple service could be performed in a manner that avoids this loss of enthusiasm over time, Bais Shammai recognized the reality of human nature, and in his uncompromising commitment to truth declared that our Chanukah observance must be a refection of reality. As much as we would wish otherwise, we are most excited on the first night of Chanukah and it is downhill from there.

Bais Hillel proposes – and again, the Halacha adopts his view – that we can perform a Mitzvah in the way we would want it to be in the ideal world. There, our excitement and enthusiasm would grow from day to day, as our understanding and appreciation would deepen. To aim for the highest goals, even if the frailty of human nature seems to preclude them, is to be commended and is thus symbolized in the ascending pattern of the Chanukah lights.

Vayishlach 5772

“And Dinah, the daughter of Leah, whom she had borne to Jacob, went out to look about among the daughters of the land.” (Bereishis 34:1)

This verse introduces the heartbreaking story of Dinah’s abduction and the slaughter of the city of Shechem by her brothers, Shimon and Levi. The Chasam Sofer observes that the initial letters of this verse’s first four words, in the original Hebrew, of course, spell the Hebrew word לבדו backwards*. This would not be noteworthy except for the fact that this very same word appears earlier in the Parsha. In recounting the prelude to Yaakov’s battle with the angelic prince of Esav, the Torah tells us that Yaakov was completely alone – לבדו! What could be the significance of this curious juxtaposition?

“Said Rabbi Berechia in the name of Rabbi Simon, “There is none like the Lord, O Yeshurun,” (Devarim 33:26). This verse can be understood as saying, “There is none who resembles the Lord,” but if there is anyone who resembles the Lord, it is Yeshurun/Yaakov. Regarding the Lord it is written, “Hashem shall be exalted alone (לבדו) on that day,” (Yeshaya 2:11); regarding Yaakov it is written, “And Yaakov remained alone (לבדו),” (Bereishis 32:24).” (Midrash Rabba, Bereishis 77:1)

From this Midrash we discover that the application of this specific word to Yaakov is not meant merely to convey the fact of Yaakov’s physical isolation but rather to ascribe to him some Divine attribute. To understand the true significance of this, we must first examine the contest between Yaakov and the angel.

It is obvious that any battle between an angel and a human being is “fixed” by definition. The power level of an angel is determined by Hashem; at will he can endow the angel with so much energy that it could crush any opponent or so little energy that any opponent could crush it. So the fight was not really a fight in the conventional sense at all.

Rather, Ramban explains, that episode was in actuality a prophetic message designed to apprise Yaakov of the ultimate outcome of the Yaakov/Esav conflict. The dislocation of the thigh, being adjacent to the reproductive organs, was meant to symbolize a flaw in Yaakov’s descendants, namely their susceptibility to forced apostasy. In fact, over the generations, this has been the bitter experience of the Jewish people. In the lands of the dispersion we have suffered repeated attempts to break our resolve to maintain our faith and religious practice.

Yaakov himself, however, was apparently immune. Why?

We may suggest that the danger of religious coercion is reduced when the object of that effort is confident and secure in his beliefs. When he seeks validation from and acceptance by the surrounding peoples, he is most at risk. To be לבדו/alone means to be self-validating. Yaakov, sharing this quality with Hashem himself, was safe; his children not quite so.

Dinah, in going out to see what the neighboring girls were doing, was the opposite of לבדו. In seeking to learn their ways, she was opening herself to alien influences and the desire to seek the approval of those whose values were antithetical to those of her own and her family. The breakdown of the protective barriers creates unforeseen dangers and, in this instance, the consequences were catastrophic.

*(ותצא דינה בת לאה)