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Yeshivat Har Etzion

PARASHAT VAYESHEV

Rabbi David Silverberg

Parashat Vayeshev begins, "Yaakov lived in the land of his father's dwelling, in the land of Canaan." Commenting on the parasha's second verse, Rashi famously cites the following passage from the Midrash: "Yaakov sought to live in tranquillity, but then came upon him the anguish of Yosef['s sale]. The righteous seek to live in tranquillity, but the Almighty says, 'Is it not enough for the righteous what awaits them in the next world, that they seek to live in tranquillity even in this world?'"

Many different suggestions have been offered to explain what exactly Yaakov wanted by seeking to "live in tranquillity," and why the Almighty rejected his request and brought upon him the tragedy of Yosef's sale. The Keli Yakar writes that the Midrash here underscores the contrast alluded to in the verse between the nature of Yaakov's residence in Canaan and that of his father, Yitzchak. The verse describes Yaakov's settlement in Canaan with the term, "vayeshev," which connotes permanence and stability. (For further elaboration on the etymology of this word, see Rav Hirsch's commentary to this verse.) By contrast, Yitzchak's residence in Canaan is depicted with the word, "megurei," which stems from the word "ger," or foreigner. "La-gur" generally refers to a temporary stay in a given location. Thus, this opening verse of Parashat Vayeshev draws a contrast between Yitzchak and Yaakov with respect to their attitudes towards their residence in Canaan. Whereas Yitzchak lived with the sense of transience, Yaakov saw his dwelling in Canaan as stable and permanent.

The Keli Yakar thus understands this verse as a criticism of Yaakov, for the feeling of permanence that characterized his residence in Canaan. Unlike Yitzchak, who lived with an awareness of the ephemeral nature of physical life, who understood that, as the mishna comments in Pirkei Avot, this world is but an entranceway to the world to come, Yaakov sought to settle too permanently here on earth. God therefore disrupted this comfort and sense of stability by bringing upon him the tragedy of Yosef's sale to Egypt.

The Keli Yakar proceeds to suggest a slightly different explanation. The problem with Yaakov's sense of permanence involved not the general issue of the transient nature of life, but rather the specific issue of the "berit bein ha-betarim." In Parashat Lekh-Lekha (chapter 15), God informs Avraham that his offspring will live as strangers in a foreign land for four hundred years before they can established a sovereign state in Canaan. According to many views among Chazal and later commentators, these four hundred years began immediately upon the birth of Avraham's first offspring – Yitzchak, who was born and lived under foreign rule in Canaan. In order for this period to count towards the required four hundred years of foreigner status, Yaakov and his family must live as "geirim," as foreigners, rather than as "toshavim" – permanent citizens. God therefore had to bring Yaakov and his family to Egypt, where they would experience – in severe form – the discomfort and disorientation of life in a foreign land. He accomplished this by bringing about the "anguish of Yosef" – the incident of Yosef's sale to Egypt, which resulted in the entire family's relocation in Egypt.

Of course, this second approach of the Keli Yakar does not accommodate the full text of the Midrash as cited by Rashi, which mentions that tzadikim in general often wish to live in peace and tranquillity, a request that the Almighty denies. The Keli Yakar's second explanation is limited to the specific context of Yaakov, who could not enjoy the comforts and stability of permanent citizenship because of the 400-year term of foreigner status that had to be endured before his descendants could seize control over the land.

We should also note that the Or Ha-chayim interprets the opening verse of this parasha in the precisely opposite fashion, namely, that this verse seeks to equate Yaakov's residence in Canaan with that of his father. The end of the previous parasha, Parashat Vayishlach, told of Esav's permanent settlement in Se'ir and his establishment of a kingdom in that region: "Vayeshev Esav be-Har Se'ir" (36:8). Here, in Parashat Vayeshev, the Torah lauds Yaakov for maintaining his sense of transience even after seeing his brother's swift realization of stability and permanent residence in Se'ir. As opposed to Esav, about whom the Torah says "vayeshev" – that he dwelled permanently in Se'ir, Yaakov's residence – "vayeshev" – resembled "megurei aviv" – the experience of his father, who lived with a keen sense of instability in Canaan. Yaakov did not try to emulate his brother, realizing instead that history must first play itself out for a number of centuries before he, like Esav, can establish a sovereign nation in its homeland.

The Keli Yakar, of course, understood this verse as contrasting Yitzchak and Yaakov in this respect, and that this distinction underlies the Midrash's criticism of Yaakov for "seeking to live in tranquillity."

Tomorrow we will iy"H present other explanations of this Midrash.

*****

Yesterday we began discussing the famous passage in the Midrash, cited by Rashi in his comments to the opening verses of Parashat Vayeshev. The Midrash writes that Yaakov "sought to live in tranquillity" in Canaan, but God prevented this from occurring, and brought upon Yaakov the painful incident of Yosef's sale to Egypt. Today we will present other approaches that have been taken to explain why Yaakov was wrong for desiring to enjoy peace and stability, and why the Almighty responded by bringing about the tragedy of Yosef.

Rav Yehuda Leib Chasman, in his "Or Yahel," explains that Yaakov wished to enjoy peace and tranquillity because this would enable him to achieve even more in the realm of avodat Hashem. According to Rav Chasman, this Midrash addresses a common and familiar phenomenon – attributing our shortcomings in religious observance to all types of perceived practical obstacles. People often tell themselves that if only they had more time, more money, a better rabbi, a better community, and so on, they would be better people and better Jews. On one level or another, Rav Chasman claims, Yaakov also made this mistake. After years of struggle, Yaakov now wished for a period of calm that would allow him to pursue his spiritual goals without facing the distractions he had to confront until now. But the Almighty wanted to demonstrate that we must pursue our goals under all conditions and circumstances. A person's pursuit of excellence cannot be limited to times of peace and tranquillity. Even under inhospitable conditions, we must remain committed to the highest standards of Torah observance. God therefore did not grant Yaakov the peace and tranquillity he desired, to emphasize the obligation to pursue spiritual excellence even under adverse conditions.

Rav Zalman Sorotzkin, in his "Oznayim Le-Torah," cites his son, Rav Elchanan Sorotzkin, as offering a different explanation, identifying Yaakov's "seeking" of tranquillity as the mistake to which the Midrash refers. By specifically seeking (or "requesting") peace and tranquillity, Yaakov accorded too much importance to life in this world, as opposed to the world to come. The Midrash describes Yaakov as placing too much emphasis on his comfort and stability, rather than retaining a keen awareness of the transient nature of physical life on earth. A person who profoundly understands that this world is but the entranceway to the next world would not seek or pursue comfort and luxury during his stay on earth.

Rav Moshe Feinstein suggested that the "tranquillity" Yaakov requested refers to the education and guidance of his children. Having raised twelve righteous sons, Yaakov no longer felt bound to oversee their development; he felt they were now independent and did not require his guidance. God shows Yaakov his error in the most dramatic fashion imaginable – by allowing for the sale of Yosef to occur. In this way, the Almighty teaches Yaakov – and all parents – that the obligation to educate and guide their children does not end when they reach maturity and adulthood. Even at an older age, children require the instruction of their parents. In a sense, then, the jealousy and contention that erupted among Yaakov's sons stemmed not merely from the favoritism Yaakov showed to Yosef, but also from his mistaken assumption that he no longer needed to guide and supervise his sons.

*****

Parashat Vayeshev tells the tragic story of Yosef's mistreatment by his brothers. As the brothers tend their sheep near the city of Shekhem, Yaakov sends Yosef to check on them, and when he approaches them, they initially conspire to kill him, before deciding to sell him as a slave. The verse states, "They saw him from afar, and before he came close to them they conspired to kill him" (37:18). This translation follows the conventional reading of the phrase, "va-yitnakelu eilav la-hamito." Seforno, however, interprets this clause as referring to their understanding of Yosef's intentions. "Va-yitnakelu" means that the brothers figured that Yosef had come to them with malicious intent, either to find some basis for a false accusation or to somehow cause them to sin. This would result in either their expulsion from Yaakov's family or a direct punishment from God. Either way, Yosef would remain (together with Binyamin) as Yaakov's sole inheritor. This is how the brothers interpreted Yosef's arrival when they saw him from afar.

Seforno adds that this reading of the verse helps explain how the brothers – whom tradition has always described as righteous men – could reach such a degree of hatred towards their brother that they would plan to kill him. In fact, even later, in Parashat Miketz, when the brothers express remorse over their mistreatment of Yosef, they appear to regret only their excessive cruelty, but not the decision to expel him: "Alas, we are being punished on account of our brother, because we looked on at his anguish, yet paid no heed as he pleaded with us" (42:21). It seems as though they remain confident in their decision to eliminate their brother, and lament only the insensitive manner in which it was done. Seforno explains that the brothers thought Yosef had turned against them and sought their destruction, and that they were therefore obliged to act first and eliminate him.

A bit later in his commentary, Seforno returns to this theory in explaining how the brothers could sit down to eat immediately after casting Yosef into a pit (37:25). Since they acted out of conviction that Yosef plotted against them, rather than out of a sudden rush of anger and rage, they felt perfectly at ease with themselves and had no pangs of conscience after throwing him into a pit.

At first glance, however, Seforno's approach seems to contradict the narrative several verses earlier describing the development of the brothers' animosity towards Yosef. The Torah explicitly tells, "The brothers were envious of him" (37:11). But according to the Seforno, the brothers acted not out of envy, but rather out of what they perceived to be self-defense.

Rav Menachem Benzion Zaks, in his "Menachem Tziyon," suggests a very simple explanation. The brothers indeed thought that they acted purely out of sincere conviction based upon what is actually a mistaken presumption, but in truth, as the Torah testifies, they were driven by sheer jealousy. People often are unaware of the interests and drives that motivate them to act in a given way. We manage to somehow convince ourselves of the justness of our cause or position, rather than carefully assessing our conduct to determine whether we really act with genuine sincerity. True, Yosef's brothers mistakenly thought that Yosef had plotted against them and they must therefore eliminate him first. But what led them to this erroneous assessment was their jealousy.

It behooves us, then, to study ourselves sincerely and conscientiously, to see if perhaps what appears to be our genuinely motivated behavior in fact stems from selfish and hardly altruistic motives.

*****

Rashi, in his comments to the first verse of Parashat Vayeshev (in most editions of Rashi's commentary), cites a Midrash that describes Yaakov's fear of Esav in the wake of the latter's establishment of a large and powerful kingdom in Edom. The Midrash draws an analogy between Yaakov's fear and the concerns of a smith when an animal carrying an enormous load of flax enters his cramped shop. How, he wonders, will the entire stack of flax fit in such a small area? Finally, somebody tells him, "All it takes is a single spark from your anvil to burn the entire load!" Similarly, says the Midrash, Yaakov wondered how he could survive living near the powerful and hostile kingdom of Edom, the leaders of which were just enumerated in the previous chapter. The Torah therefore proclaims at the beginning of Parashat Vayeshev, "These are the products of Yaakov – Yosef." Yosef is the single spark that can ignite and consume the entire kingdom of Esav, as the prophet Ovadya famously foresees, "The House of Yaakov shall be fire, and the House of Yosef flame, and the House of Esav shall be straw; they shall burn it and devour it" (Ovadya 1:18).

How are we to understand this comparison between Esav/Edom and flax, or straw, and what is it about Yosef that enables him in particular to destroy and devour Esav?

Rav Yaakov Ariel (Chief Rabbi of Ramat-Gan), in his work, "Mei-Ohalei Torah," explains that straw and flax draw a lot of attention. They occupy a lot of space and often scatter about in the air. The actual kernels of grain, by contrast, are much smaller and less pronounced. And yet, it is clearly the grain that constitutes the primary component of the stalk. Likewise, Esav drew a lot of attention to himself. While his brother Yaakov sat quietly and unassumingly in his "tents" (25:27), Esav spent his days in the fields, demonstrating his strength and talents, earning for himself a widespread reputation. Esav was the straw, whereas Yaakov was the concealed and humble kernel of grain.

As the Midrash comments, Yaakov defeats Esav specifically through Yosef. Rav Ariel suggests that Yosef shared some of Esav's characteristics. He, too, was an attractive youngster who made a name for himself wherever he went. This perhaps gives us some idea as to why the brothers found it necessary to eliminate him. They perceived him as the Esav of the family, as a person of vanity and external, superficial charm, devoid of inner substance and ideals. In truth, however, Yosef, unlike Esav, managed to incorporate his "straw"-like qualities within a far more meaningful, substantive life of ideals. His resistance to the advances of Potifar's wife demonstrated that his attractive exterior reflected, rather than supplanted, a profoundly spiritual interior. He used the enchanting effect he had on those around him to lead a nation to wealth and prosperity and save them from starvation, rather than for his personal gratification and honor. Though outwardly he may have resembled Esav, internally he was forever loyal and committed to the teachings and values of Yaakov: "These are the products of Yaakov – Yosef."

Yosef is therefore the spark that leads his people to triumph over the straw, Esav. It is he who represents Am Yisrael's ability to produce both the straw and the kernel – an appealing exterior and a spiritually meaningful interior. If we channel the qualities of Esav towards a higher purpose, if we utilize beauty and external grandeur for sacred purposes, then we can, indeed, emerge victorious over the enemy nation of Edom.

*****

Parashat Vayeshev tells of Yosef's experiences as a slave in Egypt, including the persistent attempts by the wife of his master, Potifar, to seduce him. The Torah tells that one day she grabbed Yosef's garment, at which point "he fled and went outside" (39:12). The Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 87; Tanchuma 9) draws an intriguing association between this instance of the word "va-yanas" ("fled") and its usage in a well known verse in Sefer Tehillim (114:3) describing the splitting of the Yam Suf: "ha-yam ra'a va-yanos" ("the sea saw and fled"). Based on this parallel, the Midrash comments that the sea split for Benei Yisrael in the merit of Yosef, whose remains accompanied Benei Yisrael as they departed from Egypt (see Shemot 13:19), and who, at the age of seventeen, heroically held steadfast to his values and resisted the temptation of his master's wife.

We may understand this association – between Yosef's flight from Potifar's wife and the splitting of the sea – in two ways, corresponding to the two levels at which Yosef is put to the test in this episode. On the simplest level, this is a story of control over one's physical drives, of self-restraint and the fear of God that overpowers all other considerations and natural impulses. Yosef's flight from sin thus resembles the sea's waters' "flight" from its natural course. Just as Yosef acted in opposition to natural tendency, so did the waters of the sea oppose their natural inertia and split to allow Benei Yisrael passage.

Additionally, however, Yosef's test may have involved another dimension. Rashi, in his commentary to this narrative (39:11), cites from the Gemara in Masekhet Sota (36b) that (according to one view) Yosef had at one point agreed to sleep with Potifar's wife until his father's image suddenly appeared. Yaakov warned his son that should he commit this grave violation, his name will be omitted from the kohen gadol's choshen (breastplate), upon which the names of all the tribes of Israel were engraved. This was a moment of truth for Yosef, the moment when he must decide whether he still saw himself as a member of Yaakov's household, or if he has resigned himself to life in Egypt, where he will remain and integrate into society. His inclusion among the tribes of Israel hinged on his refusal to sleep with his master's wife, which would mark his firm rejection to the immoral and promiscuous culture of Egypt. (See, for example, Vayikra 18:3, where the admonishment to avoid Egyptian practices introduces the section dealing with forbidden sexual relations.) Several verses earlier, just prior to the story of Potifar's wife's advances, the Torah suddenly tells us that Yosef was physically attractive (39:6). On one level, this information prepares us for the narrative of Potifar's wife. The Midrash, however, cited by Rashi, interprets this verse to mean that as he worked in Potifar's home, Yosef began paying close attention to his looks; his encounter with Potifar's wife served as a punishment of sorts for this preoccupation with external appearance. This perhaps signified Yosef's growing interest and involvement in the culture of vanity that characterized the Egyptian aristocracy, within which he now lived. The test of Potifar's wife thus served to compel Yosef to determine once and for all with which world he identified: the world of his elderly and saintly father, or the world of Egyptian nobility.

If we accept this understanding of Yosef's test, we might arrive at a different approach to the Midrash's association between this incident and the splitting of the sea. Benei Yisrael's crossing of the Yam Suf marked the final break between them and Egypt. Moshe tells them just prior to the miracle, "the Egyptians whom you see today you will never see again" (Shemot 14:13). It was at this point, after the Egyptian army drowned and the Sea of Reeds returned and stood in between Benei Yisrael and Egypt, that Benei Yisrael could truly proclaim, "Hashem yimlokh le-olam va'ed" ("The Lord will reign forever and ever" – Shemot 15:18), emphatically affirming their exclusive loyalty to God. They have, once and for all, broken from Egyptian culture and paganism, and now make their way to their own homeland, where they will construct a Temple of their own and worship the Almighty. Indeed, the "Az Yashir" song that they sing after crossing the sea culminates with the verse, "You will bring them and plant them in Your own mountain, the place You made to dwell in, O Lord, the sanctuary, O Lord, which Your hands established" (Shemot 15:17). At this point they have severed ties with Egypt, and begin their march towards their national and spiritual autonomy in the land of their Patriarchs.

It is in the merit of Yosef, who, at his moment of truth, insisted on retaining his identity with Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov, and was prepared to forfeit his stature in Egypt on behalf of this identity, that Benei Yisrael earned this miracle of keri'at Yam Suf, which marked their complete separation from the Egyptian culture and lifestyle.

*****

Yesterday, we discussed the comment in the Midrash that draws an association between two instances in Tanakh of the word "va-yanas" (or "vayanos"), which means "fled": the Torah's description in Parashat Vayeshev of Yosef's flight from Potifar's wife's advances (39:12), and in reference to the splitting of the Yam Suf (Tehillim 114:3). The Midrash states that Benei Yisrael were deserving of the miracle of the sea's splitting in the merit of Yosef's remarkable strength in resisting the temptation of his master's wife.

In yesterday's discussion, we addressed the association itself, what connection the Midrash saw between these two seemingly unrelated events. Today, we will discuss the significance of this word – "va-yanas" – within the narrative in Parashat Vayeshev. The Torah explicitly writes that Potifar's wife attempted to seduce Yosef every day over an extended period of time: "And as she spoke with him each day, he did not yield to her request… " (39:10). Yosef found himself exposed to her advances on an ongoing basis. Why does the Midrash appear to attribute his reward specifically to his "flight" from her grip on that day? How did this particular stage in his resistance to Potifar's wife yield such immense reward for his progeny?

One possible answer perhaps emerges from the Gemara's discussion of this episode, in Masekhet Sota (36b). As Rashi cites in his commentary to 39:11, one view in the Gemara claims that Yosef arrived at work that day with the intention of succumbing to Potifar's wife, but at the last minute he regained control over himself and abstained. If so, then perhaps this is the reason why the Midrash focuses on that day's events as the source of Yosef's merit. It is difficult enough to overcome one's tendency to sin generally; here, Yosef does so even after having reached the decision to commit the misdeed. This reflects an even greater level of spiritual fortitude, for which Yosef and his descendants were immensely rewarded.

Rav David Kviat, in his "Sukat David," suggests a different explanation, claiming that Yosef's frantic escape from Potifar's wife, more than anything else, represents the sheer revulsion he felt towards sin. He did not merely refrain from sinning; he ran away from wrongdoing, as if from some immediate, mortal danger. Herein, Rav Kviat suggests, lies the meaning and significance the Midrash detected in Yosef's "flight."

We might add that this understanding of the significance underlying Yosef's escape perhaps sheds new light on this entire episode. What enabled Yosef to withstand such a test of faith was this deeply ingrained aversion to sin. In the verse describing Yosef's initial reaction to Potifar's wife's advances, a "pesik" – a vertical line indicating a brief pause – appears after the verse's first word – "va-yema'en" ("He refused"). This "pesik" is likely intended to set apart the word "va-yema'en" from the rest of the verse, where Yosef explains to Potifar's wife why he cannot sleep with her: "Look, with me here, my master gives no thought to anything in this house, and all that he owns he has placed in my hands. He wields no more authority in this house than I… How then could I do this most wicked thing… " (39:8-9). Yosef explains his refusal as based on his loyalty to Potifar and the trust placed in him. Sleeping with his master's wife would constitute a betrayal of Potifar and an unethical breach of trust.

The "pesik" reveals that this consideration is not what held Yosef back. Rather, "va-yema'en" – he refused, plain and simple. Without any moral arguments or ethical considerations, he simply refused because such an act lay well beyond the realm of acceptable conduct. When speaking with Potifar's wife, Yosef employed logic and terminology that she could perhaps understand, and thus focused on the ethical issue of his commitment to Potifar. For himself, however, "va-yame'in" – he just refused.

This is the great merit of Yosef – "va-yanas," he fled from wrongdoing. He viewed sin with such contempt and horror, that he felt the need to run away from it, and not merely avoid it.

*****

Earlier this week, we discussed an intriguing passage in the Midrash, cited by Rashi in his commentary to the opening verses of Parashat Vayeshev. The Midrash tells that when Yaakov saw the powerful kingdom that his brother, Esav, established in Edom, as described in detail towards the end of Parashat Vayishlach, he began questioning his own survival. The Midrash compares Yaakov's fears to a smith who sees camels carrying enormous loads of flax entering his shop, and wonders how they will all fit in the small room, until someone reminds him that a single spark from his anvil can ignite and destroy all the flax. Similarly, as the verse states in Sefer Ovadya (1:18), Yosef, Yaakov's son, is the spark that can ignite and destroy the enemy kingdom of Esav.

Rav Moshe Feinstein suggests the following approach in explaining this Midrash. He asks, why would Yaakov be afraid of Esav's kingdom? After all, he and Esav had just confronted each other and parted ways peacefully. What exactly did Yaakov have to fear? Rav Moshe suggests that Yaakov was not so much afraid as he was intimidated. His concern resulted not from Esav's military might and the threat of outright hostility, but rather the rapid and successful industrial development of Edom. Esav involved himself in building a country and national infrastructure, while Yaakov spent his time engaged in purely spiritual matters. (The Netziv, in his commentary to 35:27, and elsewhere, asserts that Yaakov, unlike Avraham and Yitzchak, devoted himself almost exclusively to spiritual pursuits – at least once he returned from Charan – and was not involved in worldly affairs.) This led Yaakov to fear that perhaps he was not exerting himself as he should in "yishuvo shel olam," the development of the world, perhaps Esav's occupations are more productive and make a greater contribution to mankind. While Esav was building cities, bridges and dams, Yaakov spent his time studying and contemplating. This troubled Yaakov, who began to wonder whether he has perhaps neglected his responsibilities towards the noble objective of "yishuv ha-olam."

God therefore reminds Yaakov of the fragility of Esav's entire enterprise in Edom: "a single spark leaves from Yosef, that destroys and burns them all." As important as it is to continue building and developing the world, it is virtually valueless without Torah study and observance, without a spiritual purpose underlying this development. Just as the smith would destroy the flax to make room in his shop, so should Esav's worldly achievements be worthy of destruction should they not allow room for Yaakov and his sons, the spiritual substance without which industrial development becomes purposeless.

As we discussed two days ago (based on the comments of Rav Yaakov Ariel), Yosef, more than any of the tribes, represents the incorporation of Esav's characteristics within the context of Yaakov's values and qualities. Yosef was a man of the world, a natural leader, organizer, administrator and political figure, who reached the greatest heights of prestige and success through his economic and administrative skill and know-how. Specifically Yosef, then, provides Yaakov's family with the spark capable of competing with and overcoming Esav. By combining the material and the spiritual, Yosef helps Benei Yisrael defeat Esav.

Rav Moshe adds that Yaakov's initial intimidation from Esav, and God's response to this intimidation, serves as an important reminder in the modern world, which glorifies wealth, power and worldly occupation. The Torah certainly encourages involvement in "yishuvo shel olam," but only to the extent to which it is geared towards spiritual goals. Rav Moshe notes that people who devote their lives to Torah study and education might be misled by the achievements and success of those around them who engage in other occupations, and may begin to wonder if perhaps their field is of lesser worth and importance. It is this feeling that troubled Yaakov, until he was reminded of the message of Yosef. The importance of "yishuvo shel olam" hinges on an underlying spiritual purpose, the awareness of which is maintained through the Torah scholars and teachers in every generation.