The Israel Koschitzky Virtual Beit Midrash

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by Rav David Silverberg

Parashat Vayeishev introduces us for the first time in Chumash to the notion of "yibum," whereby the brother of one who dies childless marries the widow. Though the formal mitzva in this regard is not presented until later, in Sefer Devarim (25:5-10), it emerges from our parasha that the institution existed even before Matan Torah. Yehuda's eldest son, Er, dies without children, and Yehuda therefore instructs his second son, Onan, to marry the widow, Tamar: "Join with your brother's wife… and provide offspring for your brother" (38:8).

The commentators argue as to what Yehuda meant in the final clause of his instruction - "and provide offspring for your brother." Rashi explains that the son born from the union between Onan and Tamar (ultimately, no children were born to them, since Onan took precautions to ensure not to impregnate Tamar) would be named after Er. The Ramban rejects this interpretation in light of the fact that nowhere in the laws of yibum do we find any such requirement that the child born to the brother-in-law and widow must bear the name of the deceased. Although the Torah mentions regarding the yibum marriage, "The first son that she bears shall be called by the name of the dead brother" (Devarim 25:6), the Gemara (Yevamot 24a) explains this as a reference to the deceased brother's inheritance. This verse assigns the inheritance to the child born to the brother-in-law; it has nothing at all to do with the deceased brother's name. The Ramban therefore adopts a different, mystical approach to this verse.

How can we justify Rashi's commentary to this verse? From where did he arrive at this notion of naming the child after the deceased brother?

Rav Asher Weiss, in his Minchat Asher (on Sefer Berieshit, 52), explains that Rashi apparently distinguished between the institution of yibum introduced with Matan Torah and that which was practiced before Matan Torah. Before the Torah was given, indeed the child born from the levirite marriage was to be named after the dead brother. This appears nowhere in our halakhic literature, which concerns itself with the situation after Matan Torah, when no such requirement applies. How do we account for this difference between before and after Matan Torah?

Rav Asher explains based on a careful analysis on the nature of the yibum relationship. Many Acharonim, and even some Rishonim, have addressed the complex issue as to how the marriage relationship between the brother-in-law and widow is formed. Does it follow the same procedure as regular marriage, or is it different? The most obvious problem involves the fact that according to Torah law, no kiddushin (formal betrothal, such as giving a ring) is performed in establishing a levirite marriage; the brother-in-law simply takes the widow to his home and lives with her. (Chazal, however, instituted a ceremony parallel to kiddushin in a yibum situation, called a "ma'amar.") The scholars have arrived at different conclusions to explain this phenomenon. The Maharik (139) suggests that the initial relations between the widow and brother-in-law function as both kiddushin and nisu'in (the actual marriage); the Or Samei'ach (beginning of Hilkhot Yibum) claimed that in the case of yibum the Torah suspended the need for kiddushin altogether. A different theory, which Rav Asher espouses, claims that the brother-in-law continues the original kiddushin performed by the dead brother. Normally, a husband's death means the immediate cessation of his marriage relationship with his wife. In a case of yibum, however, the Torah transfers the kiddushin, so-to-speak, from the deceased to his brother. This, Rav Asher claims, is the very definition of yibum - the perpetuation of the dead brother's kiddushin relationship to his wife through her marriage to his brother.

However, such an institution can apply only after Matan Torah. The Rambam, in the beginning of Hilkhot Ishut, writes explicitly that the entire notion of kiddushin, of a formal designation of a woman as a man's wife before the actual marriage, was introduced with Matan Torah. Before that point, a man and woman would decide to marry and then move in and live together, without any formal, ceremonial procedure. Therefore, the yibum practiced before Matan Torah had to have been of an entirely different nature than it assumed after Matan Torah. Rashi identified the nature of pre-Matan Torah yibum as perpetuating the name of the deceased. Whereas after Matan Torah yibum means the continuation, on some level, of the deceased brother's marriage, before Matan Torah it involved keeping the brother's name alive in the son born from the union of his wife and brother. Therefore, it comes as no surprise that before Matan Torah the child was to be given the name of the deceased brother, whereas after Matan Torah we find no such halakha.

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Parashat Vayeishev begins with the story of Yosef's brothers' hatred towards him, a hatred that he himself would fuel by reporting to them his dreams of kingship over the family. After dreaming his first dream, he tells his brothers, "Shim'u na ha-chalom ha-zeh" - "Please listen to this dream… " (37:6). The Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 84) comments that Yosef here tells them, "So will the prophets reprimand you - 'Shim'u na et asher Hashem omer' ['Please listen to that which the Lord says' - Mikha 6:1]." What connection does this Midrash seek to draw between Yosef's report of his dreams and prophecy?

Commenting on this verse, the Midrash Lekach Tov tells that Yosef approached his brothers to tell them of his dream but they refused to listen. Yosef therefore says, "Shim'u na" - "Please listen," pleading with and imploring them to let him speak and hear what he has to say. Apparently, the brothers guessed - correctly - what this dream was about. Already having detected signs of Yosef's ambitions for leadership, the brothers accurately predicted that Yosef's dream involved these aspirations.

Herein, perhaps, lies the association between Yosef's appeal to his brothers and the words of the prophets. The prophets, too, had a very hard time earning an audience, finding a listening ear. As the conscience of Am Yisrael, they spoke words that the nation did not want to hear. Specifically, Mikha's prophecy to which the Midrash refers, which opens with "Shim'u na," presents a very frank exposure of Benei Yisrael. This chapter (Mikha 6) contrasts God's unending kindness towards the people with their stubborn refusal to obey His commandments. This is not what people wish to hear. The prophets had to plead with the people just to listen, to hear what they have to say, to stop for a moment and pay attention to the prophets' words.

This Midrash, then, provides a keen insight into a human nature, pointing to a phenomenon that contributed to the tension between Yosef and his brothers and would later threaten to undermine the role of the prophets. People hear only what they want to hear. We have a hard time accepting ideas that oppose previous assumptions and convictions. The brothers had written Yosef off as unfit for leadership and could not for a second entertain the possibility of his ascent to royalty. When Yosef sought to prove his case, they tried to avoid listening. Obviously, they were later proven wrong. Benei Yisrael similarly refused to lend an ear to the criticism of the prophets. This Midrash thus urges us to keep our minds open to criticism and rebuke, to accept the fact that we are not always correct, and that we all have much room for improvement.

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Towards the beginning of his commentary to Parashat Vayeshev, Rashi, citing the Midrash, makes a statement that has puzzled many later scholars for centuries: "Yaakov sought to live in tranquillity, but the crisis involving Yosef was thrust upon him. The righteous seek to live in tranquillity, but the Almighty says, 'Is it notenough for the righteous what is prepared for them in the world to come, that they seek to live in tranquillity in this world?" The question, of course, arises, does God wish for the righteous not to live in tranquillity? Does He really prefer to bring upon righteous men such as Yaakov crisis and heartache in order to ensure their misery in this world? Do we not find throughout the Torah promises of peace, tranquillity and good fortune in exchange for Torah observance?

Although, as stated, Rashi draws this passage from the Midrash, one very significant difference exists between Rashi's citation and its origin in Bereishit Rabba (84). There the Midrash states, "When the righteous seek to live in tranquillity in this world, the Satan comes and prosecutes [against them] and says, 'It is not enough for them… '" Thus, it is not the Almighty who denies the righteous the opportunity to live in peace and harmony, but rather the Satan. This Midrashic passage is reminiscent of the book of Iyov, where the Satan persuades the Almighty, as it were, to test the righteous Iyov by subjecting him to suffering. This Midrash tells us that the Satan similarly makes attempts to deny all righteous people happiness in this world. How and why God grants Satan the power to bring misery upon the righteous is the existential question to which the book of Iyov is devoted. But we can accept and understand this description of the Midrash far more easily than we can Rashi's citation.

For this reason, Rav Barukh ha-Levi Epstein, in his "Tosefet Berakha," vehemently argues that the text of Rashi's commentary was corrupted by an irresponsible copy editor. The correct text should read, "the Satan says," rather than, "the Almighty says." Rav Epstein strongly condemns the one responsible for the error and expresses his dismay over the fact that later writers wasted so much ink trying to explain Rashi's comments, not realizing this printing error. He goes so far as to demand that this error be publicized as much as possible so as to avoid further confusion.

Rav Epstein's point is well taken, and indeed most parallel Midrashim speak of the Satan, rather than God Himself, as the one insisting on bringing hard times upon the righteous. Nevertheless, in one Midrashic source - the introduction to the Tanchuma Yashan (cited by Rav Menachem Kasher in his Torah Sheleima, Parashat Vayeishev 9) - we indeed find that the Almighty Himself tells Yaakov that he cannot live in tranquillity in this world. Therefore, we should, perhaps, uphold the text of Rashi's commentary and assume that he drew this passage from this source.

Another textual emendation of this passage in Rashi's commentary is cogently advanced by Rav Yaakov Shaul Weinfeld, in his "Mishnat Yaakov." These remarks of Rashi appear as part his commentary to the second verse in the parasha: "These are the offspring of Yaakov: Yosef was seventeen years old… " Rashi offers two explanations of this verse. First, he suggests that "These are the offspring of Yaakov" introduces the entire story that unfolds, the chain of events that ultimately leads to the family's resettlement in Egypt. The word "toledot" (translated in our citation as "offspring") would then mean the "occurrences" or "story" of Yaakov and his family. Rashi points to this approach as the straightforward reading of the verse. He then proceeds to cite a Midrashic interpretation, that indeed Yosef is pointed to specifically as Yaakov's offspring due to certain comparisons between these two. At this point, Rashi adds, "This verse - 'vayeishev' - was further expounded upon, that Yaakov sought… " This addition seems very awkward. Why would Rashi suddenly introduce Chazal's reading of the previous verse - "Vayeishev Yaakov" - in his commentary to this verse? Additionally, Rashi already presented for us both a straightforward reading ("peshat") as well as Midrashic, homiletic interpretation. Why would he add more Midrashic material? Rav Weinfeld therefore concluded that this entire passage was added by later editors and was not included by Rashi himself in his commentary. He proceeds to claim that he later consulted with original editions of Rashi's commentary, and, sure enough, this passage does not appear.

When all is said and done, however, one Midrashic source, as we have seen, does, in fact, tell of God's "policy" not to allow the righteous to live in peace and tranquillity in this world, regardless of whether Rashi includes this point in his commentary, and this concept certainly requires explanation.

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Yesterday we began discussing the puzzling comment of Rashi towards the beginning of Parashat Vayeishev: "Yaakov sought to live in tranquillity, but the crisis involving Yosef was thrust upon him. The righteous seek to live in tranquillity, but the Almighty says, 'Is it not enough for the righteous what is prepared for them in the world to come, that they seek to live in tranquillity in this world?" As we saw, some question has been raised concerning the authenticity of the text as it appears in our editions of Rashi's commentary. In any event, as mentioned yesterday, the passage as it appears has origins in the Midrash Tanchuma Yashan. It is worthwhile, therefore, to study the explanations offered by writers throughout the ages who addressed Rashi's comments assuming the accuracy and authenticity of the text before them. In order to overcome the considerable difficulties this passage raises, the later commentators felt compelled to suggest very novel and original readings of Rashi's remarks.

Today we will present two approaches taken. Rav Yosef Shaul Nathanson, in his Divrei Shaul (Mahadura Tanina), explains that the tzadikim's request for tranquillity of which Rashi speaks refers to their sense of inadequacy. Feeling that the hardships of life detract from their ability to realize their fullest spiritual potential, the righteous yearn for the day when they would no longer need to sacrifice time and energy to deal with the day-to-day struggles of life, and they could then devote themselves entirely to spiritual perfection. The Almighty, however, knows otherwise: "Is it not enough for the righteous what is prepared for them in the world to come?" They mistakenly feel that what they have accomplished falls short of their expectations, but this is not the case. To the contrary, challenge and hardship can often help bring out the best in people.

A different explanation is cited in the name of the Imrei Chein. "Yaakov sought to live in tranquillity" means that he felt - to some extent - independently capable of securing tranquillity. Chazal saw a slight weakness in Yaakov's recognition that ultimately all success and achievement in the world is granted to us by the Almighty (on condition, of course, that we do our share). The tragedy of Yosef's sale thus served as a punishment for Yaakov's somewhat overly confident pursuit of peace and tranquillity.

The obvious difficulty with this explanation is how it accommodates the continuation of the passage: "The righteous seek to live in tranquillity… " Are we to believe that this shortcoming exists in all tzadikim? Perhaps the simplest answer is to read this clause as, "When the righteous seek to live in tranquillity… " Meaning, when righteous people, regarding whom God exacts precise and strict judgment, exhibit too much independence in their pursuit of peace and good fortune, God responds, "Is it not enough… " When it comes to the world to come, we indeed enjoy full independence; as the possessor of free choice, man has the ability to excel in Torah in mitzvot and thereby earn his share in the world to come. But this sense of independent power, so-to-speak, must be reserved to the spiritual realm; there we must see ourselves as the ones who determine (obviously, with the Almighty's assistance) whether or not we succeed. In worldly affairs, however, we must realize that our efforts, though indispensable, are powerless without God's blessing.

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The second verse of Parashat Vayeishev tells that Yosef brought negative reports about his brothers to his father, Yaa: "va-yavei Yosef et dibatam ra'a el avihem." An interesting observation on this verse is made in the work, Afikei Yam (introduction to second volume). The verse tells of Yosef bringing the negative reports not to "his father" ("aviv"), but rather to "THEIR [the brothers'] father" ("avihem"). The Afikei Yam explains that this subtlety is intended to reveal the nature of Yosef's motivation behind his reports. If one observes another engaging in improper behavior, he must administer "tokhecha" (rebuke). If, however, he understands that his reproach would not be accepted, he should bring the report to the individual's teacher or parent, or any other person who has influence on the person in question. But when he does this, he must ensure to convey the information with purely genuine motives, rather than to degrade the other. The verse emphasizes that Yosef did not bring the news to "his father," in an effort to "score points" and win Yaakov's favoritism, but rather to "their father" - with the sincere desire that Yaakov could exert some positive influence and correct their flaws.

We may detect another textual subtlety that points us in the same direction. The very next verse informs us that Yaakov favored Yosef, exhibiting a love for him that surpassed that shown to the brothers. Normally, the Torah would have worded the verse, "Va'ye'ehov Yisrael et Yosef… ." Biblical narrative generally employs the form known as the "vav ha-hipukh" in narrating events: "va-ye'ehov" (he loved), "va-yomer" (he said), "va-yedaber" (he spoke), "va-yikach" (he took), and so on. Here, however, the verse writes, "ve-Yisrael ahav et Yosef." While at first this point may seem trivial, it becomes quite significant when we consider Rashi's remarks in his commentary to the beginning of Bereishit chapter 4. Rashi there establishes a fundamental principle as to the difference between these two narrative forms, with and without the "vav ha-hipukh." When the narrative tells an event with the "vav ha-hipukh" (such as "va-yedaber"), the given event occurred at this point in the narrative. When, however, the event is described without the "vav ha-hipukh," such as in our case - "ve-Yisrael ahav," the event occurred prior to the previously recorded event. For example, the verse there in Bereishit tells of the relations between Adam and Chava which produced Kayin and Hevel. This is described with the phrase "Ve-ha-adam yada," rather than "Va-yeida ha-adam." Rashi thus concludes that this took place before the story in Bereishit 3, of Adam's sin and banishment from the Garden of Eden.

Thus, here, too, the verse tells us that Yaakov showed favoritism towards Yosef even before the immediately preceding information - Yosef's reporting his brothers' conduct to Yaakov. The verse emphasizes that Yaakov did not love Yosef because of the reports he would bring; this unique love began even beforehand, irrespective of the information he brought about the brothers.

But if so, then why did the Torah reverse the sequence? Why did it not tell us first of Yaakov's favoritism towards Yosef and then of the reports Yosef would bring to his brothers?

Perhaps this arrangement helps explain the development of the brothers' animosity towards Yosef. Given Yaakov's special love for Yosef, the reports Yosef brought him seemed to the brothers specifically geared towards this purpose, of finding favor in Yaakov's eyes. To the brothers, it appeared that Yaakov loved Yosef because of his talebearing. Yosef's conduct thus resembled that of Esav, as described by the Midrash (see Rashi, Bereishit 25:27), who would ask his father halakhic queries to give the image of a pious, devout observer. The brothers perhaps suspected that Yosef used similar tactics, tattling on his brothers in order to win his father's adoration, with the ultimate intent on becoming the sole inheritor of the blessing of Avraham. The Torah therefore first tells about the negative reports, and only thereafter mentions Yaakov's special love for Yosef.

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Yesterday we discussed the reports Yosef brought about his brothers to his father, Yaakov. We saw that the verse itself (37:2) may allude to Yosef's sincere motives in this regard. He did not report of his brothers' wrongdoing to his father for personal aggrandizement, or to bolster his standing within this family. He genuinely hoped that his father could yield some positive influence on the brothers and help them improve.

This point notwithstanding, Chazal are nevertheless sharply critical of Yosef's conduct. The Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 84; Tanchuma; Pirkei de-Rabbi Eliezer 38; Yerushalmi, Masekhet Pei'a 1) writes that Yosef brought to Yaakov three accusations against the brothers, and for all three he was punished measure for measure. He accused them of eating meat taken from an animal prior to slaughtering; therefore, he was punished through the brothers' slaughtering a goat as part of their plan to conceal their sale of Yosef. He accused them of verbally abusing the sons of the maidservants by calling them "slaves"; Yosef himself therefore suffered the humiliation of slavery. Finally, he accused them of sexual misconduct; God therefore put Yosef to the test, forcing him to resist the seduction of Potifar's wife. In spite of Yosef's sincere motives, he was punished for speaking negatively about his brothers.

The Ralbag, in his commentary to this parasha, spells out the message that emerges from this tragic incident: "It is not proper for a person to tell his father everything he hears of the inappropriate conduct of the other family members. This will give rise to domestic strife and contention and cause oneself harm. Indeed, as a result of his having brought bad reports about his brothers to his father, his brothers despised him to the point where they would have killed him, if not for God's assistance."

Perhaps one important lesson to be extracted from this story is the need to overlook, to ignore. We do not have to - and in fact should not - take notice of every wrongdoing committed around us. Not every inappropriate action deserves a response. We must learn to accept the imperfection of others, especially those closest to us, and overlook mistakes and mishaps. By once in a while looking away from the faults of our close friends and relatives, we can help engender greater friendship and harmony in our homes and communities.

A more general lesson arises from this story, as well: sincere motives do not justify everything. The fact that one acts with pure intentions does not grant "kosher certification" to everything he does. We must carefully assess our conduct even when we act in sincerity, to ensure that we are not making any tragic errors - such as the one made by Yosef ha-Tzadik himself.

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Many writers have addressed the question of how Yosef's brothers, always seen as tzadikim by our tradition, could have come to commit such a criminal act of selling their brother into slavery. True, Chazal are sharply critical of this act. In the famous poem describing the murder of the ten righteous martyrs ("asara harugei malkhut") during the Roman occupation, that tragedy is traced back to this event, the sale of Yosef by his brothers. Nevertheless, the brothers undoubtedly had some rationale that at very least in their minds lent some justification to their action.

One popular approach draws a parallel of sorts between the brothers' conduct here to that of their grandmother, Rivka, several parshiyot earlier. The brothers interpreted Yaakov's favoritism towards Yosef as an indication of his appointment of Yosef as his exclusive successor. Yosef's dreams of kingship over them reinforced this suspicion; they concluded that Yosef felt destined to inherit the blessing transmitted from Avraham to Yitzchak to Yaakov, putting him in charge of his brothers just as Yaakov earned superiority over his brother, Esav. In the brothers' minds, nothing could have been more catastrophic. They felt that Yosef was in fact less suited for the job of heir to the blessing of Avraham than any of them. Just as Rivka felt compelled to intervene tensure that Yitzchak would not bestow his blessing upon Esav, so did the brothers decide to take action to prevent Yosef's appointment as heir to Avraham's blessing. Among the famous commentators who adopt this approach (albeit with slight variations) are the Malbim and the Tosefet Berakha.

At least one view in the Midrash, however, appears not to accept this theory. In Bereishit Rabba (84), the Midrash discusses why specifically Reuven opposed his brothers' plan to kill Yosef (see 37:21). According to the majority view cited by the Midrash, Reuven tried to save his brother specifically because of Yosef's dreams of the eleven sheaves, and of the sun, moon and eleven stars bowing to him: "Reuven said: He counts me together with my brothers, and I will not save him? I thought I was rejected on account of that action [the sin he committed with Bilha], but he counts me together with my brothers, as it says, 'and eleven stars were bowing to me,' and I will not save him?!" (We discussed this Midrash in our S.A.L.T. series to Parashat Vayeishev last year.) Reuven saw in Yosef's dream an indication that his sin did not mean his expulsion from the family of Yaakov. Yosef envisioned his authority over his eleven brothers, which necessarily included Reuven. Having hung his hopes of inclusion within the family on Yosef's dreams, Reuven had vested interest in their fulfillment, and he thus naturally sought to save Yosef.

According to this view, it is hard to imagine that the brothers interpreted Yosef's dreams as reflecting his plans of solely inheriting the blessing of Avraham. Presumably, Reuven would not feel too encouraged by his inclusion in Yosef's dream together with his brothers if they all were expelled from the heritage of Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov. It seems reasonable to assume that according to this Midrash, Yosef dreamt of his leadership within the family, not his exclusive right to the family blessing. Reuven thus saw the dreams as an indication that although he surrendered his birthright and leadership position as a result of his wrongdoing (see Divrei Hayamim I 5:1), he will not share the fate of Yishmael or Esav.

Yosef's dream thus did not signal his ambitions for exclusive inheritance of the blessing of Avraham. If it did, it would not have served as a source of solace and comfort for Reuven. Rather, it meant that although all twelve tribes would be included within this blessing, Yosef would earn the leadership title. Even this, apparently, was entirely unacceptable to the brothers, and they felt compelled to expel him rather than allow him to assume the family leadership.

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