Archive for the ‘11. Vayigash’ Category

Upon meeting Pharoh for the first time, Yakov and Pharoh have this conversation:

וַיֹּאמֶר פַּרְעֹה, אֶל-יַעֲקֹב: כַּמָּה, יְמֵי שְׁנֵי חַיֶּיךָ. וַיֹּאמֶר יַעֲקֹב, אֶל-פַּרְעֹה, יְמֵי שְׁנֵי מְגוּרַי, שְׁלֹשִׁים וּמְאַת שָׁנָה: מְעַט וְרָעִים, הָיוּ יְמֵי שְׁנֵי חַיַּי, וְלֹא הִשִּׂיגוּ אֶת-יְמֵי שְׁנֵי חַיֵּי אֲבֹתַי, בִּימֵי מְגוּרֵיהֶם – And Pharaoh said to Yakov, “How many have been the days, the years of your life?” And Yakov said to Pharaoh, “The days of the years of my sojournings are one hundred thirty years. The days of the years of my life have been few and miserable, and they have not reached the days of the years of the lives of my forefathers, in the days of their journeys.” (47:8-9)

Yakov lived a tremendously difficult life. He had fled his family to live in hiding from his brother; been cheated and overworked by his father in law; been denied marriage to the love of his youth, been betrayed by his firstborn son; seen the rape of his daughter; seen his sons bickering result in Yosef’s disappearance and presumed death for 22 years; and seen Rachel die in childbirth. This was not the future he had sought to create for the Jewish people.

Mishlei 3:2 advises that תורתי אל תשכח….. כי אורך ימים ושנות חיים – my son, don’t forget the Torah… Because it lengthens days and years of life. Life is lived through peace, wholeness and Torah – pain and suffering are not true living. It therefore stands to reason that Yakov says מְעַט וְרָעִים, הָיוּ יְמֵי שְׁנֵי חַיַּי – “The days of the years of my life have been few and miserable,”.

However, the opening of Parshas Vayechi, which addresses the conclusion of Yakov’s life, states:

וַיְחִי יַעֲקֹב בְּאֶרֶץ מִצְרַיִם, שְׁבַע עֶשְׂרֵה שָׁנָה; וַיְהִי יְמֵי-יַעֲקֹב, שְׁנֵי חַיָּיו–שֶׁבַע שָׁנִים, וְאַרְבָּעִים וּמְאַת שָׁנָה – And Yakov lived in Egypt for seventeen years, and Yakov’s days; the years of his life; were a hundred and forty seven years. (47:28)

The Torah asserts that at this juncture, just 17 years after “few and miserable”, that וַיְחִי – Yakov truly lived, “living” being the thing he had lacked his whole life, what with all his suffering.

This marks a significant change. Before reuniting his family, he felt his life had been a failure. Now they were together, living in harmony, fulfilling Yakov’s ambitions for creating a nation, יְמֵי-יַעֲקֹב, שְׁנֵי חַיָּיו – Yakov’s days and years became years of life, to the extent that שֶׁבַע שָׁנִים, וְאַרְבָּעִים וּמְאַת שָׁנָה – he could look back, and his entire life had been worth it in the end, having achieved the harmony he sought his whole life.

The Midrash and Gemara in Shabbos say that a real exile begins in chains and handcuffs; Yakov was spared this in his exile because of his merits. The Nesivos Shalom explains how the brothers could attempt to murder Yosef and then sell him, whilst seeming incredibly evil, was actually their bodies expressing what Hashem wanted, that they eventually wind up in Egypt. The people Yosef was sold to we’re traditionally salesmen of foul scented products, but Yosef was “fortunate” that they were carrying sweet smelling spices on that day.

But it was not just “fortune”, and it was the same with Yakov

There had to be an exile to Egypt. Everything had been calculated precisely. Yakov recognised at the end of his life, that every event in his life had led him to where he was.

Having recognised that all his negative experiences brought him to where he was, he was finally content, satisfied and fulfilled.

כט ויֶּאְסֹר יוֹסֵף מֶרְכַּבְתּוֹ וַיַּעַל לִקְרַאת יִשְׂרָאֵל אָבִיו גֹּשְׁנָה וַיֵּרָא אֵלָיו וַיִּפֹּל עַל צַוָּארָיו וַיֵּבְךְּ עַל צַוָּארָיו עוֹד

“Yosef harnessed his chariot and went up to greet Yisrael his father… and he (Yosef) fell on his neck (Yaakov) and he wept on his neck excessively” (Vayigash 46:29)

In regard to the above Pasuk, Rashi quotes a Midrash that says, “only Yosef fell on Yaakov’s neck, but Yaakov didn’t fall on Yosef’s, for Yaakov was reciting Kriyas Shema”. The question we have for Yaakov is: ‘Why are you saying Shema now? Wait two minutes, kiss your son who you thought was dead for 22 years and then say Shema? Or, why didn’t you say Shema earlier?

The Maharal in his Sefer ‘Gur Aryeh’ says that when Yaakov saw that his son, Yosef, had become a king he was truly able to comprehend the completion of Hashem’s plan and how everything happens for the good with His Divine Intervention – even though we may not be able to see it immediately. Yaakov understood that in the end Hashem always gives a reward to those that fear and love Him. Yaakov Avinu was at the spiritual level that when something good happened he didn’t forget Hashem just because ‘he doesn’t need him anymore’, rather he used the gift to further attach himself to Hashem. Sadly, on average, when we see that when we need something we turn to Hashem, but when we are actually given what we prayed for, or everything is going well, do we continue to need and turn to Hashem?

In this case, Yaakov was filled with such love and gratitude towards Hashem,  that he needed to attach himself even more to Hashem through this love, so he said Shema – accepting the Ol Malchus Shamayim Veahavaso.

Hagoan Rav Chaim doesn’t like this Vort and says that Yaakov was commanded by Hashem to go down to Egypt. Therefore the ‘going down’ in itself was a Mitzvah from Hashem. Shema is also a Mitzvah, but we have a rule, Osek B’Mitzvah Patur MinHamitzva (when doing one mitzvah one is exempt from doing another mitzvah [not always applicable, consult with your rav]). The entire time that Yaakov was travelling down to Egypt he was patur from saying Shema. The first moment he saw Yosef he was on the outskirts of Egypt. When Yosef ran to him he was already inside Egypt and no longer patur from Shema. Yaakov needed to say Shema specifically then and there because he was supposed to have said it earlier, but was patur. Now that Yaakov was no longer patur he had to say Shema.

When the brothers apologise to Yosef, he rebutted this by saying אַל תִּירָאוּ כִּי הֲתַחַת אלֹהִים אָנִי – “Don’t be afraid, for am I instead of God?” (50:19). It is unclear what exactly he means, but certainly he is not annoyed.

The Baal Haturim suggests that this is is poetic justice as this is precisely what his mother had been told when she begged for children from their father, at which point he said “הֲתַחַת אֱ־לֹהִים אָנֹכִי אֲשֶׁר מָנַע מִמֵּךְ פְּרִי בָטֶן - “Am I instead of God, Who has withheld from you the fruit of the womb?” (30:2)

The Maharil Diskin wonders why a simple yes/no answer isn’t enough, and we can (and have) explained that he did not actually forgive them, but did not say this. We can look deeper into his words: In Parshas Matos (30:7-9) the pasuk describes a woman who makes a vow, but then her husband annuls it. In an event where she did not know he had annulled it, and she thinks she is deliberately breaking it, the pasuk says “והֹ יִסְלַח לָהּ – “…and the Lord will forgive her.” This is astounding – she has technically done absolutely nothing wrong – her vow had been annulled at the time of her actions, and yet there is a certain something that requires forgiveness! And the same thing was true here:

The brothers thought they had committed a horrendously evil act to their brother, and even though circumstantially it turned out for the best in the end, and the family were reunited – just as in the case of a woman who circumstantially did nothing wrong – there was still a certain something that required forgiveness. The Maharil Diskin suggests an alternate explanation to that which the Baal Haturim suggested, that this is exactly what Yosef was saying here.  Due to the turn of events they had done nothing wrong, but he was not in the place of Hashem, because as we said by the woman, they needed G-d’s forgiveness.

In layman’s terms, the ends do not justify the means. Yosef was telling his brothers that they were only circumstantially sorry.

Rabbeinu Bachaye  shares a frightening thought that is brilliant. He takes the concept of Yosef not forgiving his brothers a step further, and suggests that this resulted in the Asara Harugei Malchus, one of the greatest tragedies in Jewish history, and one died in lieu of each of the group who’d sold Yosef. Yaakov was not told, as an oath was made as a group of 10 (a minyan) to not tell him, and such an oath cannot be annulled.

But why were there 10 martyrs then, as there weren’t 10 men present at the sale? Binyamin was not there, Reuven had gone home, and we can’t include Yosef as part of such a minyan? There is a concept that a minyan can take place with 9 as Hashem joins in – Hashem was the 10th member of this group.

R’ Shamshon Ostropolier points out that we can expand the pasuk in Bechukosai - וְכָל מַעְשַׂר בָּקָר וָצֹאן כֹּל אֲשֶׁר יַעֲבֹר תַּחַת הַשָּׁבֶט הָעֲשִׂירִי יִהְיֶה קֹּדֶשׁ לַהֹ – Any tithe of cattle or flock of all that pass under the rod, the tenth shall be holy to the Lord” (27:32)- and there is a deeper meaning to this pasuk, in reference to Rabbi Akiva - וכי למא מת עקיבא, שהוא רואה בקר וצאן הכֹּל אֲשֶׁר יַעֲבֹר תַּחַת הַשָּׁבֶט הָעֲשִׂירִי יִהְיֶה קֹּדֶשׁ לַהֹ – Why did Akiva die? He was just a shepherd! When he passed under the staff (judgement?) he was the tenth, holy for G-d.

There is another allusion to this in Parshas Vayigash (45:15), that “וַיֵּבְךְּ עֲלֵיהֶם – and he cried on them” – we can break up עֲלֵיהֶם and read it על י ה”םfor the ten Harugei Malchus.

Scary. So not that any of us are like Yosef and his brothers, but it’s clear that we should be more forgiving to people for what they may do to us.

There is a Midrash that says that when we eventually go up to Heaven and are put on trial to account for our lives, we will be as embarrassed as the brothers were in front of Yosef. The Beis Halevi shares a marvellous idea on this.

On a superficial level, we can understand this Midrash by simply saying that we cannot bluff someone who sees the bigger picture. The brothers claimed that their brother was not with them, but Yosef knew why he wasn’t really with them, and when he revealed himself to them, they actually died of embarrasment according to some commentators. Even if we don’t learn this, it’s clear what the metaphor is trying to portray. There was nothing they could say.

But we can look at it in a deeper fashion, and admire the nobility Yosef displayed. For one: וְלֹא יָכֹל יוֹסֵף לְהִתְאַפֵּק לְכֹל הַנִּצָּבִים עָלָיו וַיִּקְרָא הוֹצִיאוּ כָל אִישׁ מֵעָלָי וְלֹא עָמַד אִישׁ אִתּוֹ בְּהִתְוַדַּע יוֹסֵף אֶל אֶחָיו – Now Yosef could not bear all those standing beside him, and he called out, “Take everyone away from me!” So no one stood with him when Yosef made himself known to his brothers.

On which Rashi remarks that whatbYosefncould not bear was that some Egyptians would stand beside him, and hear his brothers being embarrassed when he would reveal his true identity to them.

We must not forget that at this point, from the brothers perspective at least, they had been harrassed and interrogated by a foreign ruler, and they had him on their own; he was unguarded. There was every possibility they’d have murdered him and escaped (Shimon and Levi in particular had a track record…), but he could not bear to embarass them publicly.

But moreover, from 44:20, Yehudah explains that they have an old father and attempt to explain that they did not want to bring Binyamin to Yosef for their fathers sake.

וַיֹּאמֶר יוֹסֵף אֶל אֶחָיו אֲנִי יוֹסֵף הַעוֹד אָבִי חָי וְלֹא יָכְלוּ אֶחָיו לַעֲנוֹת אֹתוֹ כִּי נִבְהֲלוּ מִפָּנָיו – And Yosef said to his brothers, “I am Yosef. Is my father still alive?” but his brothers could not answer him because they were startled by his presence.

The Beis Halevi points out that the first thing he said to them after telling them who he was, was “is my father still alive?”. Clearly he knew Yaakov lived, as Yehudah had spoken at length about him. The fact he asked this question regardless is telling, heartrending and completely ironic. It means “Is he not my father too? Was he not alive back then for you to not have abandoned and disowned me? Is he only alive to you now?”. And they could not say anything, because of course he was right, their hypocrisy had been revealed, which caused them to die of embarrassment, whether we take that literally or figuratively. This is tochacha in its true form (tochacha, usually translated as rebuke, is a form of the word l’hochiach, to prove).

There was nothing they could say, but instead of shouting at them he simply said גְּשׁוּ נָא אֵלַי וַיִּגָּשׁוּ – “Please come closer to me,” and they drew closer (45:4). He hugged them all, and it is simply unfathomable for any of us to have acted in such a way, even when faced with lesser evils than he’d suffered, and it is no small wonder we call him Yosef HaTzaddik with character traits such as these.

ויגש אליו יהודה ויאמר בי אדני – And Yehudah approached him and said, ‘please my master…’ (44:18)

Another insight into the brilliance of the ta’amei hamikra (cantorial notes): The Vilna Gaon points out that if you look at the notes on these words, you’ll see something astonishing – kadma ve’azla, Revi’i, Zarka, Munach and Segol. But what is so amazing about this? Surely these are standard notes in a pretty standard format?

If you look back to Parshas Miketz (43:9), Yehudah guarantees Binyamin’s safe return by saying, ‘If I don’t bring him back to you and place him before you, then…וחטאתי לך כל הימים – I will be sinning against you all the days‘. The Midrash explains this last phrase to be referring to Olam Haba.

Now let’s have another look at our notes and we will get an insight into what the Vilna Gaon was referring to – firstly, kadma ve’azla, Revi’i – Yehudah, the fourth son (revi’i) went and stepped forward (קדם ואזל) to confront Yosef. Surely Reuven should have been the one to step forward – why Yehudah?
Because he threw himself into a situation where he would be ‘rested from being parted from the Am segula, in Olam Haba – (זרק את עצמו מלנוח בתוך עם סגולה). This is Zarka, Munach and Segol – and Yehudah is prepared to give up everything for his brother.

Geshmack!

Postscript: I do intend at some point, to explain my comment from a previous post, where I suggested that the ta’amei hamikra might be the genius of Chazal, as opposed to the widely accepted view (from the Gemara) that they are Halacha L’Moshe MiSinai…

ראש חודש ניסן

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