Pareshath Vayigash

This week's paresha contains a brief interchange between Ya'akobh and Hashem, in a vision during the night on the way to Egypt. It barely registers in the flow of the narrative, but there are a couple of textual clues indicating that this is rather a big deal. First, we have the opening of the dialogue: twice, Hashem calls Ya'akobh's name, and Ya'akobh responds, "Hineini". This structure appears in exactly two other places in the Tanakh, at the climax of the 'akeidhath Yitzḥak (the binding of Yitzḥak), and again when Moshe stands before the burning bush. Second, the body of God's message opens, "Al tiyra..." (Do not fear). Each of the abhoth received exactly one such message in the Tora. Abhraham at the berith bein habetharim (the covenant between the parts, the first time that God's promises to Abhraham were formalized as a covenant), and Yitzḥak after he digs the wells 'Eisek, Sitna, and Reḥobhoth (associated with the three Temples) and ascends to Beeir Shabha'.

What makes these few verses into a major inflection point in the story of the Jewish people? Here, we enter galuth. Exile. Each time a patriarch is told, "Al tiyra," we do not see immediate cause for fear, but there is a recurring pattern of darkness. The prophecy of galuth is first revealed to Abhraham at that time. Each time, God's promised comfort is offered with "anokhi", and emphatic form of the first person pronoun, and the promise follows an escalating pattern; not greater in extravagance, but greater in intimacy. To Abhraham, God promises, "anokhi maghein lakh", I will be a shield to you. To Yitzḥak, the promise is "itkha anokhi", I am with you. To Ya'akobh, "anokhi eireidh 'imkha Mitzrayma", I will go down to Egypt with you. There are two Hebrew words for with, et and 'im, the former used with Yitzḥak and denoting proximity, the latter used with Ya'akobh and denoting togetherness of a deeper sort. The gathering darkness is matched by Hashem drawing close in a crescendo that peaks here, at this night in Beeir Shabha'.

What does this have in common with the 'akeidha, and with the burning bush? Ya'akobh is being called to a test. Until this night, he seems eager to make the journey and be reunited with his beloved Yoseph. His spirit revives, and he is once more Yisrael. Many commentators read his stop here and the sacrifices he brings before his vision as a request for permission, given that his father was told in that place not to descend to Egypt during a famine. The answer he receives seems to shake him. He becomes simply Ya'akobh once more, and from here on to Egypt he must be carried rather than continue under his own power. Upon arrival, despite seeing Yoseph, his joy is not unmixed, as he proclaims that he is ready to die, and that his days of life have been short and bitter. Presumably, more is revealed in these visions than the words indicate. I imagine that he sees all the suffering that is to come from this journey. Abarbanel makes clear here that Ya'akobh is not commanded to go down to Egypt. God's plan is laid out before him, but he must accept it. We have a mirror image of his wrestling match with the angel. Leaving the land rather than entering, he transitions from Yisrael to Ya'akobh, but the result is much the same. He succeeds, passes the test and proceeds toward the destiny that he is heir to, but his successes are not glorious and resounding like Abhraham's. He emerges wounded, less mobile than before. In many ways, I find his tests more inspiring.

Shabath Shalom uMebhorakh!

Parshioth Vayeshebh & Miketz

Sorry to have missed last week's post; I was at a wedding. However, these parshioth rather naturally flow together, so it was not such a stretch to find a topic that straddles the two. There is a shoresh (root) that is used quite frequently through the story of Yoseph and his brothers, despite being rather infrequent in the rest of the ḥumash: variations on nikar, recognition, are absolutely central to this narrative. True, Yoseph's hidden identity makes this an important plot device, but I think that there is more to the matter. The fact that Yoseph recognizes his brothers is conspicuously repeated in consecutive verses, subject to significantly greater emphasis than their failure to reciprocate, which is the plot relevant point. 

What exactly is the meaning of this root? First let us compare to where else it appears. There are two categories. First, in the rest of sepher Bereishith, it is used three times, once in each of three stories, each with a strong connection to the story of Yoseph. The first time, Yitzḥak does not recognize Ya'akobh when the latter seeks the brakha in disguise; sibling rivalry and mistaken identity, the clear case with no hints needed. The second, Ya'akobh demands that Labhan recognize whatever is rightfully his in the camp, unaware that Raḥeil has stolen his idols; in case we missed the parallel to the scene where Yoseph's steward finds the goblet in Binyamin's pack, the midrash makes the reference explicit. The third is at the trial of Tamar, when she insists that Yehudha recognize the sureties that he left her; this story comes in the middle of the broader cycle of Yoseph and his brothers, and there are various other textual clues that point to a parallel (one that I had thought to develop last week was Yehudha's comparison of himself to Tamar, as though he had lately been in similar circumstances and failed to rise to her level on that occasion, when the only other story we have seen him involved with was the sale). The root is never used through Shemoth, Vayikra, and Bamidhbar. The second category is the collection in sepher Debharim. At this point in the text, it is used almost invariably in a derogatory fashion, a reference to corruption and bias. Judges are repeatedly exhorted not to "recognize" faces in judgment. The Leviim are praised for refusing to "recognize" at the time of ḥeit ha'eigel (the sin of the golden calf).

Clearly, the term does not simply mean "to identify". If so, it would be imperative that true justice should recognize every particular of its subjects. Rather, we see that every instance involves a recognition not of the object itself, but of its relationship to the subject. Hakarath hatobh, gratitude, is not recognition of some abstract good, but recognition of good with regard to yourself. It is the most subjective form of knowledge, in many ways more self-knowledge than knowledge of the one recognized. 

This reading encompasses both the uses in Bereishith and those in Debharim, but it does not yet account for the clear bifurcation in use. For the patriarchs, this sort of discernment seems absolutely essential. Clearly, Yehudha is unfit to rule until his confrontation with Tamar, which takes the form, "Haker-na...Vayaker Yehudha..." (Please recognize... and Yehudha recognized). Similarly, when Yoseph haTzadhik recognizes his brothers, this is clearly to his credit and leads to the peaceful and whole-hearted reunion of the family. Recall that double language I mentioned at the beginning. There are some explanations for that in the classical commentaries; the strongest on the level of peshat, in my mind, is that at first he recognized them as a group, and then he interacted with them and knew each one individually. However, I would like to propose a different reading. Instead of translating verse 32:8, "And Yoseph recognized his brothers, and they did not recognize him," we can translate, "And Yoseph recognized his brothers, whereas they had not recognized him." He recognized their relation to him, his obligation to them beyond any claim of justice, in the way that they failed to do when they saw him twenty two years earlier despite knowing full well who he was at that time. A simple reading presents the sale as an act of anger and jealousy, deeply personal, but ḥazal reject that reading. They see the brothers as acting to protect the nation from disastrous misrule under a vain, ambitious, unscrupulous tyrant in the making. Perhaps, without the adversity that followed, their judgment would have been entirely accurate. When they repent, they say not that they had been unjust, but unmerciful. Seemingly, they followed the principles that Moshe would later lay down in Debharim. So, what was the crime? 

Bereishith establishes the roots of the nation. The foundations rely on bias. Veahabhta lerei'akha kamokha, love your fellow as yourself. According to Rabbi Akibha, this is a kelal gadhol, an all-encompassing principle of the Tora. Much of the law is designed to inculcate partiality, requiring obligation toward other Jews that goes beyond the strictures of justice. To allow yourself to be impartial rips the fabric of society, separates you from the community. Never-the-less, a mature nation about to take up the burden of sovereignty, as we find in Debharim, must have law. It is a paradox. We cannot be both judge and kinsman. Society cannot function if we are not judges, and cannot exist if we are not kinsmen. For now, the best answer I can see is, in this matter, as in so much, seek balance.
Shabbath Shalom uMebhorakh!
Ḥanuka sameiḥa!