The Israel Koschitzky Virtual Beit Midrash

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Yeshivat Har Etzion

by Rav David Silverberg

In Parashat Vayigash, Yosef reveals himself to his brothers and bids them to bring their father and families to Egypt where he will support them through the devastating famine. When ordering their return to Canaan to bring Yaakov, Yosef says, "Quickly, go up to my father… " (45:9). Rashi here cites the famous comment of Chazal that "Eretz Yisrael is higher then all other lands."

The question arises, why did Rashi wait until this point to make this comment? The Torah has employed expressions of ascent regarding trips to the Land of Israel, and descent for travel in the opposite direction, many times earlier in Sefer Bereishit. Did Rashi simply forget about Chazal's explanation until he reached Parashat Vayigash?

Some have explained that Rashi wished to highlight the greatness of Yosef as manifest through this single word, "alu" (go up). In Egypt, Yosef became effectively the second most powerful man in the world. Or, given his responsibility for providing grain for the entire Middle East, he may well be considered the single most powerful person in the world at the time. He had achieved wealth, fame, power, prestige, respect and glory. Yet, he could still view his homeland, where he suffered the scorn, contempt and hostility of his brothers, as "higher" than the land of Egypt. Despite his success in Egypt, he always considered Eretz Yisrael the "holy land," the place where one can achieve the closest possible relationship with the Almighty, and the center of his nation's destiny. Rashi here tells us not only of the unique quality of Eretz Yisrael, but also of Yosef's heroic recognition of this quality even after having risen to power in Egypt. (This perspective expresses itself in next week's parasha, too, as Yosef bids his brothers to bury him in Canaan.)

This understanding teaches us two important lessons. First, we learn about the need to maintain a broad, national and historical perspective above and beyond our personal accomplishments. One must never become too overwhelmed by his own success to consider national concerns and think about the larger destiny of Am Yisrael as a whole.

Additionally, a second, somewhat less obvious lesson emerges from this analysis of Rashi's commentary: when one says something is often as significant as what he actually says. As we have seen, Rashi's decision to wait until this point to cite Chazal's comment reveals a beautiful insight into Yosef's remarkable character. A truly wise commentator knows not only what to say, but when to say it.

*****

When Yosef introduces his father, Yaakov, to Pharaoh, the Egyptian king inquires as to the saintly patriarch's age. Yaakov answers with not only a number, but also a description: "Few and hard have been the years of my life, nor do they come up to the life spans of my fathers during their sojourns" (47:9). The Midrash criticizes Yaakov's complaint, commenting that thirty-three years were taken from his life as punishment for the thirty-three words of self lamentation he spoke to Pharaoh.

Someone with the time and patience to count the number of Yaakov's recorded words in this brief conversation will arrive at a lower number than thirty-three (21). How did Chazal calculate his words to number thirty-three? The answer is that Chazal counted all the words in the Torah's account of this conversation, starting from "Pharaoh said to Yaakov" and through Yaakov's response to the king's inquiry. One who counts the words contained in the two verses of 47:8-9 will, indeed, arrive at thirty-three.

Needless to say, this itself begs for an explanation. Why should Yaakov be punished for Pharaoh's question? Why should the words uttered by Pharaoh - and even the words used by the "narrator" in this context - count towards the shortening of Yaakov's life?

Rav Chaim Shemuelevitz explains that the answer lies in a more obvious question regarding this entire scene: did Pharaoh really have nothing else to ask Yaakov except his age? Could these two men not find any better topic of conversation?

Rav Chaim answers that Pharaoh's question indicates that Yaakov wore his troubles on his face. The Egyptian monarch saw in front of him a frail, elderly gentlemen, whose wrinkled complexion and squinted eyes told the tale of his brother's plot to kill him, his father-in-law's attempts to cheat him, the difficult family life he suffered from the rape of his daughter through the sale of his favorite son, and starvation from famine. This woeful appearance prompted Pharaoh to inquire about his guest's age. Chazal teach us that for this alone Yaakov was punished. A tzadik of his stature was to avoid sharing his personal crises with others, and greet others warmly and pleasantly, with a joyous smile and friendly countenance. Therefore, the words spoken by Pharaoh when inquiring about Yaakov's age counted towards the shortened years of his life.

While most of us cannot expect of ourselves to live at the standards demanded of Yaakov Avinu, this Midrash must open our eyes to this important quality of maintaining one's pleasantness even during trying times. Life is full of pressures, anxieties, disappointments, and challenges. But as much as possible, we must try to put it all aside when speaking with others, and to afford others the warmth and friendliness we expect from them.

*****

Parashat Vayigash opens with Yehuda's impassioned plea to Yosef that he allow Binyamin, who was charged with stealing the viceroy's silver goblet, to return to Canaan. The parasha opens, "Yehuda approached him and said, 'Please, my lord, let your servant speak something in the ears of my lord, and do not be angry with your servant… '"

The opening word "vayigash," after which the parasha is named, has caught the attention of some commentators, already from the time of Chazal. Yosef and his brothers had stood in the same room all along; what does it mean that Yehuda "approached" Yosef? This word prompted the Midrash to interpret the term as an expression of hostility. They thus view Yehuda's appeal as a belligerent attack against the Egyptian viceroy (as opposed to the straightforward implication of the verses, which give a far more submissive impression of Yehuda).

A particularly interesting explanation, however, is cited in the name of the work "Gelilei Zahav." Although Yosef's brothers spoke some Egyptian, they followed the customary protocol which dictated that foreigners speak to government officials in their native tongue through a translator. It was considered disrespectful to address a member of the country's royalty with broken, inarticulate and grammatically incorrect speech.

At this point, however, as Binyamin stood on the brink of slavery in Egypt, Yehuda felt compelled to appeal to the viceroy directly, without the filtering process of the translator, in order that the full force of his emotion penetrate the ruler's heart. He therefore "approached" Yosef to speak with him directly, in Egyptian, rather than through a translator. This also explains Yehuda's request, "let your servant please speak something in the ears of my lord." He asks permission to speak straight "into the ears" of Yosef, without any intermediary. Recognizing the violation of royal etiquette involved in speaking in his broken Egyptian vernacular, Yehuda then adds, "do not be angry with your servant." He begs Yosef to temporarily suspend the rules to allow him to properly convey the fervor and emotion of his appeal.

*****

Along his historic journey to Egypt, Yaakov makes a stop in Be'er Sheva where he offers sacrifices and beholds a prophetic vision. Interestingly, however, this vision takes place at nighttime, in the form of a dream. As we know, this is not the first time Yaakov receives a prophecy in a dream: Parashat Vayetze opens with Yaakov's famous dream of the ladder. The question, of course, arises, why does specificallYaakov receive prophecy in such a manner? We never read of God appearing to either Yitzchak or Avraham in a dream. Furthermore, why does God appear to Yaakov in a dream specifically in these two instances?

The Meshekh Chokhma answers based on the obvious symbolism of nighttime: the darkness of exile. On the two occasions when Yaakov leaves Eretz Yisrael for the Diaspora God speaks to him specifically in the dark of night, providing him reassurance regarding his uncertain future. Even in the solitude and fear of the nighttime hours, God accompanies Yaakov Avinu.

In truth, our previous assumption that no prophecy to Avraham or Yitzchak occurred in a dream is not entirely accurate. In "brit bein habetarim" in Bereishit 15, God casts a deep sleep over Avraham and informs him of the subjugation of his offspring to a foreign ruler. Here, too, the image of nighttime underscores God's assistance through the terror of exile: "in the end they shall go free with great wealth" (15:14).

Yaakov's descent to Egypt marked a historic turning point in the unfolding saga of the development of Am Yisrael. Recognizing the ramifications of his move, Yaakov was nervous and anxious about the future. God reassured him, and us, that even when the skies darken over the future, even when a cloud of uncertainty and danger looms over the Nation of Israel, when difficult, critical decisions of nationwide import for decades or centuries to come must be made, God still appears: "I Myself will go down with you to Egypt, and I Myself will also bring you back… " Perhaps we should keep these words in mind as we read the news during times like these, and feel comfort in the knowledge that our future lies safely in the hands of our Father in heaven.

*****

After revealing his identity to his brothers, Yosef presents them with gifts: "To each of them he gave a change of clothing; but to Binyamin he gave three hundred pieces of silver and five changes of clothing" (45:22). In light of Yosef's family history, his conduct in this regard seems startling. He suffered so bitterly as a result of the preferential treatment afforded him by his father. Is he now ready to make the same mistake? Does he not fear the repercussions of adding to Binyamin's gift? What more, the Gemara in Megila (16) views the special offering to Binyamin as an allusion to the royal garments to be worn many centuries later by Binyamin's descendant, Mordekhai. Does Yosef wish to start the trouble all over again, foretelling the royal future of his only full brother, Binyamin? Was not the brothers' hatred initially kindled as a result of Yosef's dreams of kingship?

One answer suggested takes a closer look at the brothers' feelings of jealousy of which we read two weeks ago. The brothers did not resent Yosef's ambitions per se; rather, they felt that he deserved royalty no more than they did. In their eyes, he had no basis by which to single himself out for family leadership. In Parashat Vayigash, however, they realize their mistake: sure enough, Yosef was destined to rule over the family. As Yosef himself explains when revealing his true identity, God planned his ascent to royalty in order to sustain the family during the dreadful famine. The brothers at this point acknowledge their error and accept Yosef's leadership. And why shouldn't they? After all, their resentment all along evolved only from their assumption that Yosef did not deserve leadership. Now that they come face-to-face with the reality that in truth Yosef did, they humbly submit to his authority.

With full reconciliation achieved, Yosef has no qualms about affording preferential treatment to Binyamin. Leaving aside the reasons for this treatment, we can now understand why this posed no danger to family harmony at this point. Just as the brothers fully accept Yosef's role as leader, they would feel no jealousy towards a similar role assumed by Binyamin or his progeny.

Acknowledging the different roles assigned to different individuals could help alleviate so much jealousy that plagues society. When everyone longs for leadership and positions of influence, when no one accepts the role of "led" but rather insists upon the position of "leader," mutual resentment erupts. Though we rarely think of Yosef's brothers as representing the quality of submission to authority, in fact they do. Once they see that this is indeed Yosef's role, they accept his leadership wholeheartedly. The lesson for us is to concentrate on fulfilling our individual roles in the world and serving mankind as best we can, rather than looking around us to see how we can outdo everyone else.

*****

Parashat Vayigash records the dramatic reunion of Yaakov with his beloved son, Yosef. Many attempts have been made to decipher the enigmatic comment in the Midrash (cited by Rashi, 46:29) that Yaakov read "shema" at this moment when he embraced Yosef for the first time in over two decades.

One well known answer is suggested by the Kotzker Rebbe. Quite simply, Yaakov sought to channel this profound love that he now experienced towards God. The strong feelings Yaakov Avinu felt at this moment provided him with an opportunity to declare his devotion to the Almighty - as reflected by the recitation of "shema" - with exceptional fervor and intensity. He did not want to let this opportunity slip. He therefore turned his personal experience into a profoundly spiritual one.

Yet another explanation is offered by Rav Klonimus Kalyish, author of "Eish Kodesh." He views Yaakov's recitation of "shema" as a direct response to Yosef's crying (as recorded in the verse). Rav Klonimus explains that Yosef cried in anticipation of the bitter exile that has now begun with the family's descent to Egypt. Yaakov responded to Yosef's despair by reciting "shema." The key to the family's - and then nation's - survival throughout the painful years of exile is to reaffirm on a constant basis one's unwavering devotion to the Almighty and His commandments. Though the turbulence of exile often poses formidable obstacles before the maintenance of religious standards, the "acceptance of the yoke of Heaven," the essence of the "shema" service, helps keep Benei Yisrael on the path that will lead to their ultimate redemption.

*****

Yesterday we discussed the comment in the Midrash that upon his dramatic reunion with his son, Yaakov recited the "shema." We offered two explanations as to why Yaakov saw this as an appropriate time for the recitation of "shema." One could argue, however, that "shema" here simply served as an expression of gratitude. Meaning, at this moment of great joy, Yaakov offered a thanksgiving prayer to the Almighty. He expressed his deep feelings of gratitude through the recitation of "shema."

This brings to mind the halakha mentioned in the Gemara (Berakhot 58b) requiring one to recite a berakha upon seeing a friend after an extended absence. If the individual had not seen his friend for thirty days, then upon reuniting therewith he must recite the berakha of "she-hechiyanu." After a twelve-month period, one recites instead the berakha, "mechayei ha-meitim" (from the "birkhot ha-shachar"). The Rishonim note, however, that this halakha applies only to a close friend or relative, the reunion with whom causes particular joy.

It would seem that the two different berakhot - "she-hechiyanu" and "mechayei ha-meitim" - are of entirely different natures. The first seems to serve simply as an expression of joy, thanking the Almighty for the happy occasion of the reunion. This "she-hechiyanu" resembles other instances of this berakha, such as upon the purchase of a new garment and the like. "Mechayei ha-meitim," by contrast, evolves from the sense of anxiety one feels when separated from a dear friend for an extended period of time. One begins to wonder as to the welfare of his long-lost comrade. He therefore thanks God for figuratively "bringing him back to life": the reunion affords one the peace of mind of knowing that his friend/relative is alive and well.

This distinction becomes critical in a situation of two friends who have been physically for an extended period but engaged in letter-writing (or e-mail, presumably) in the interim. The Be'er Heiteiv (O.C. 225:1) distinguishes in this regard between the two berakhot. After a thirty-day absence, one must recite "she-hechiyanu" despite the communication conducted between the two during that time. After twelve months, however, one does not recite "mechayei ha-meitim." Whereas this second berakha expresses one's gratitude in discovering that his friend is still alive and well, it becomes unnecessary in a situation where they had retained contact throughout the period of absence. Accordingly, the Sha'arei Teshuva adds that even if one did not maintain communication with the friend, but merely heard about his well-being from others or received regards, he would not recite the berakha of "mechayei ha-meitim."

In recent times, the custom has become prevalent not to recite these berakhot, a phenomenon already observed by the Arukh Ha-shulchan and Kaf Ha-chayim. The question of why this occurred is left for the reader's consideration. For practical guidance, please consult a competent halakhic authority.

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This shiur is provided courtesy of the Virtual Beit Midrash, the premier source of online courses on Torah and Judaism - 14 different courses on all levels, for all backgrounds.

MakeJewish learning partof your week on a regular basis - enroll in the
Virtual Beit Midrash

(c) YeshivHar EtzioAll rights reserved to Yeshivat Har Etzion

Yeshivat Har Et
Alon Shvut, Israel, 90433
office@etzion.org.il