Gen. 41:01-44:17 "At the end"
Joseph interprets Pharaoh’s dreams, becomes his viceroy, fathers Manasseh and Ephraim, encounters his brothers during the famine, and plants evidence on his youngest brother Benjamin in order to accuse him of stealing. On a superficial level, it appears that Joseph is jerking his brothers around because he doesn’t trust them. He puts them to the test and scares them until he knows they regret their actions. Only then are they able to reunite as a family.
This clan is as dysfunctional as characters in a soap opera, mired in emotional dishonesty, manipulation, and callousness. Although the Talmudic rabbis generally look for positive explanations for unethical behavior of the patriarchs and matriarchs, we can glean from the Torah that human beings haven’t changed much in the millennia since it was recorded. Maybe one day we will be capable of living in harmony with the planet and one another. It is good to be able to imagine such a future.
In The Handbook to Jewish Spiritual Renewal, Rabbi Dr. Arthur Segal observed, “The Talmud teaches that anyone who says they love God, Whom they cannot see, but does not love a human, who is made in the image of God, is a liar and a hypocrite.” Dishonesty, harming others, and rationalizing bad behavior result in an inner split, which the rabbis called pizzur ha nefesh, the scattered soul. When we act on our best impulses, we become integrated, whole human beings.
Traditionally, every word and letter of the Chumash has significance. For example, in 41:21, the rabbis tell us “God has made me forget all my hardship and all my father’s household” does not mean that Joseph has blocked his family history out of his mind (as one might expect of a survivor of trauma) but rather that he has “forgotten” – forgiven, let go of – being sold into slavery by his brothers. In 42:2, in which Jacob instructs his sons to “go down” to Egypt, Rashi says the gematria (numerical value) of the verb to go down alludes to the 210 coming years of exile. The phrase “that we may live” foretells the spiritual life of the Hebrews after the Exodus. In the Chumash, when we see anyone “go down” or “go up,” it is understood that the person in question is descending or ascending spiritually – becoming degraded and distant from God, or returning to a state of connectedness. Egypt, or Mitzraim, means “a narrow place.” It is a metaphor for a constricted spirit, a prison of our own design, just as the Land of Israel is a symbol for wholeness and freedom.
What it would look like if lashon ha ra (gossip, disparaging communication) were removed from the news and info-tainment media? Would it look like a blank screen, transmitting nothing but static? What exactly do I need to hear about? Events that impact my community or those I know personally, the conditions affecting the well-being of humanity, situations that illustrate a broader dynamic, but only truly if there is something I can do to help. Sensationalism, hunts for people to blame, punish, ostracize, denigrate, etc. miss the point. They obscure the underlying issues and can distract us from the goal of making a better world.
In The Path of the Just by Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzatto, AKA the Ramchal, writes: “…man is the center of a great balance. For if he is pulled after the world and is drawn further from his Creator, he is damaged, and he damages the world with him. And if he rules over himself and unites himself with his Creator, and uses the world only to aid him in the service of his Creator, he is uplifted and the world itself is uplifted with him. For all creatures are greatly uplifted when they serve the Whole Man, who is sanctified with the holiness of the Blessed One.”
The struggle to triumph over the yetzer ha ra, the evil inclination, is ongoing. It takes work to remain acutely self-aware, to avoid reflexive, unthinking action. It takes effort to turn our focus away from our own concerns and to direct our energies toward helping and uplifting others. Traditional Judaism says we can’t win this inner battle without God’s help – we are simply not strong enough. There is a reason why Jacob broke his hip wrestling with the angel.
We may define “God” as the best within ourselves. We can learn to trust and honor our capacity to experience the numinous, to be amazed by the beauty and intricacy of the natural world, to be awed by the phenomenon of life, to be vulnerable with another human being. If we believe in God, we might say that the Holy Spark within us has been given by God as a doorway to God. We can practice awareness of our mortality and of the knowledge that we can truly own nothing. We are temporary creations of the Eternal. The more we empty ourselves of ego, the more room there is to allow the creative energy of the universe to flow through us. When we practice “how can I help?” instead of “what’s in it for me?” we gain a sense of spiritual expansion.
One of my favorite stories is a retelling by Rabbi Segal of a story told by Martin Buber (perhaps from Buber’s Tales of the Hasidim?) The Chaim of Zanz, the story goes, sought in his youth to morally reform his entire country. At 30, he’d not been successful, and thinking he’d taken on too much, decided to try only to reform his province. By the time he was 40, he still had not succeeded. He then chose to limit the scope of his work to reforming his own town. At the age of 50, he found that he’d not even been able to morally reform the town. Finally, he concluded that he couldn’t reform other people until he had taken the time to repair his own soul.