Parashat VaYehi: Revealed & Concealed

Revealed & Concealed

Thoughts on Parashat VaYehi 2020

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As Yaakov neared his death, he called his sons to his bedside and said:

“Come together so that I may tell you what will happen to you at the end of days.” (Bereshit 49:1)

Yaakov then blessed each of his sons individually. He referenced their respective strengths and weaknesses while hinting to them what lay ahead in their future. The Hakhamim paid careful attention to Yaakov’s initial will to “tell what will happen at the end of days.” They described it as an unfulfilled desire:

He [Yaakov] wished to reveal to them the end of Yisrael’s exile, but the Shekhinah departed from him and he began to speak of other things.[1]

Instead of simply omitting Yaakov’s failed attempt to expose that prophecy, the Torah made a vague reference to it. It thus hinted at a particular importance to this occurrence. What was the significance of this “concealed revelation”?

The great 19^th Century Jewish thinker R. Sadok of Lublin dedicated much time and effort to understanding the historical transition from the stage of prophecy to that of Torah she-be’al peh (the Oral Torah) during the period of the second bet hamikdash. “All the wisdom of the oral Torah consists of apprehending truth from darkness,” he wrote, “but in the era of the indwelling of the divine presence in Israel, the Jews did not condescend to perception through darkness at all.”[2] According to R. Sadok, the end of prophecy brought forth a particular “darkness” – the neglect and near-forgetting of the oral Torah. Paradoxically, however, that darkness was necessary for the light and genius of the pillars of Torah she-be’al peh (the Anshei Knesset HaGedolah and rabbis of the Mishnah) to shine forth. Whereas prophecy and overt miracles stunted creativity, causing people to think that “if it wasn’t revealed, then it can’t be true,” their absence opened the potential for individual thought and interpretation.[3]

Consider, for example, the difference between a class in which the instructor speaks the entire time, elucidating every point and detail, and a lesson where the teacher provides the framework and basic principles but entrusts the students to discover the information on their own. The former structure displays a “bright light” shined by the instructor, but leaves the students with little room for self-thought and expression. This model represents the era of divine revelation. The “hands off” model, in contrast, reinforces the pupils’ creative capacities, forcing them to think independently and develop the lesson on their own. The enveloping “darkness” rendered by the end of prophecy likewise opened the crack through which the “light” of creativity and human insight could shine.

Psychologists often discuss a similar dichotomy in the way that we are moved by any given stimulus. Following the occurrence of something in our lives, we have the choice to react or to respond.[4] Reacting refers to our reflex – dealt the hand of a difficult situation, for example, we become depressed and sulk in the thought of an ominous future. Learning by means of prophecy likewise precipitates a reaction – “we hear and we accept.” Responding, in contrast, refers to choosing how to deal with the difficulty. It requires self-strength, courage, and the appropriate insight for planning out a course of action. Growth during an era bereft of prophecy necessitates responding – sparking the lights of novelty within a context of darkness.

The Hakhamim taught that Yaakov wanted to expose his vision of the end of exile, but that the divine presence departed before he could do so. Yaakov’s will at that time was to react, relating God’s revelation to his sons. As the Shekhinah vanished from the scene, however, Yaakov was forced to respond. Foreshadowing the manner of the hakhmei ha-masoret many years later, Yaakov then tapped into his own creative capacity. He thought about the strengths and weaknesses of each of his sons, and sensitively charted out a future for them and their descendants.

I am sometimes troubled by the difficulties of living during a time of hester panim (divine concealment). I find myself yearning for “the times of old,” when God publicly exposed “His face,” leaving little room for doubt or uncertainty. I then remind myself, however, of God’s lesson to Yaakov during those critical moments before his death. By removing His presence from Yaakov, God hinted at the paradoxical detriment of constant revelation. He taught that the greatest depths of understanding and connection are attained specifically within the context of “darkness.” It is only then that we are forced to “dig deep,” inspired to search for and find Him with all of our hearts and minds.

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[1] Commentary of Rashi, Bereshit 49:1 s.v. ve-agidah.

[2] R. Sadok HaCohen of Lublin, Resisei Layla (Bnei Brak, IS, 1967), pg 160-1.

[3] For a full analysis of R Sadok of Lublin’s thought on this matter, see R. Yaakov Elman’s “R. Zadok HaKohen on the History of Halakha,” Tradition 21:4, pg. 1-26. Cf. Moshe Koppel, Meta-Halakhah: Logic Intuition and the Unfolding of Jewish Law (Lanham, MA, 1997), pg. 52-5 and R. Netanel Wiederblank, Illuminating Jewish Thought: Explorations of Free Will, the Afterlife and the Messianic Era (New Milford, CT, 2018), pg. 446-7.

[4] See, e.g. Stephen R. Covey, The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People: Restoring the Character of Ethic (New York, NY, 1989), pg. 70-1 and 309-10, and, most recently Lori Gottlieb, Maybe You Should Talk to Someone: A Therapist, Her Therapist, and Our Lives Revealed (New York, NY, 2019), pg. 288-94.

Parashat VaYehi: Growth Through Movement

Listen to tonight's class on Parashat VaYehi, "Growth Through Movement," here.

Follow along with the sources here.


For further research:

Read our related devar Torah for Parashat Lekh Lekha here.

Parashat VaYehi: Crying

Crying

A Message for Parashat VaYehi 2017

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The Torah described a final encounter between Yosef and his brothers:

And Yosef’s brothers saw that their father was dead, and they said…“Your father left a charge before his death saying, ‘Thus shall you say to Yosef, We beseech you, forgive the crime and the offense of your brothers, for evil they have caused you. And so now, forgive the crime of the servants of your father’s God.” And Yosef wept when they spoke to him. (Bereshit 50:15-17)

Although Yosef had wept several times in the past, he never seemed comfortable doing so. Whenever he felt the tears coming, he would attempt to hide them. Yosef left the room to cry when he heard his brothers talk about him (42:24) and again when he saw Binyamin (43:30). Revealing himself to his brothers, he cleared out the room before crying with them (45:2). Although Yosef let down his guard when he cried in his embrace with Binyamin and his other brothers, he concealed the tears as he wept “upon his neck” and “upon them” (45:14-15). And his tears in embrace of Yaakov were again “upon his neck” (46:29), and after Yaakov’s death “upon his father’s face” (50:1). Earning the reputation of a rational-minded controller, Yosef was careful to never let his emotions interfere with his thoughts and behavior. But then, perhaps unexpectedly, the stone-cold façade cracked: “And Yosef wept when they spoke to him.”

Was Yosef’s public display of emotion at that time a personal failure? I do not think so. I recall a conversation that I had with a group of 12^th Grade boys, several years ago. Over the course of our discussion, one of the boys remarked that he had never seen his father cry. The boy seated next to him quickly added that he had not either. As did the next. And the next. One by one, nearly every one of the thirty boys in the room revealed to me that they had never seen their father cry. This bothered me. I felt that their fathers had failed to expose them to “true emotions.” Hiding behind the veil of “power” and “control,” the fathers had missed the opportunity to teach their children how to appropriately respond to emotional pain and discomfort in a healthy manner.

Yosef was a prominent leader. The eyes of an entire empire were upon him at all times. His thoughts, decisions and expressions were noticed by all. By publicly exposing his tears, Yosef taught them a lesson that extended beyond the basic skills of proper decision-making. He taught them how to feel.

Several years ago, a journalist noted the American people’s changed perception of public crying. When Senator Edmund Muskie was caught crying on camera during the presidential campaign in 1972, he unconvincingly claimed it was melting snowflakes. Muskie lost the campaign and forever remembered that critical moment. He claimed that his tears changed people’s minds about him, explaining, “They were looking for a strong, steady man, and here I was weak.” Consider, now, the impressive list of politicians who have proudly cried on camera in the 21^st Century: Barack Obama, Newt Gingrich, Mitch McConnell and John Boehner, among others.[1] Crying is no longer seen as an expression of weakness, but rather of humanness. But is it necessary? Can’t we live and succeed without the interference of our personal emotions?

In Feeling Smart, Eyal Winter wrote about the necessary interplay between rational thinking and emotions. He imagined, for example, a situation where you arrive at work one morning and find an email message with an offer for employment by another company. A decision made solely by the rational department of your mind would begin by compiling an exact list of all the characteristics of your current job, followed by a parallel list of the characteristics of the newly offered job. Carefully scaling the advantages and disadvantages of each opportunity, the next step would be to assign to each characteristic a value representing the extent of satisfaction or disappointment you expect to receive from it. Without the help of your emotional mechanism, however, you will certainly fail at this stage. Although you will have all the facts at your disposal, the channel to a wise choice will remain blocked. Winter wrote, “Only close cooperation between the emotional and rational mechanisms can enable you to arrive at a wise and satisfactory decision.”[2]

Yosef’s ability to expose his emotions late in his life revealed his impressive growth as a leader. He taught his brothers, the people of Egypt and all future generations the importance of relating to our feelings in an honest and genuine fashion.

Let the tears flow! It’s best for your growth.

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[1] Jim Windolf, “It’s Alright to Cry, Dude,” The New York Times, Oct. 17, 2015.

[2] Eyal Winter, Feeling Smart: Why Our Emotions Are More Rational Than We Think (New York, NY, 2014)), pg. 237-8.

Parashat VaYehi: Spread Your Blanket

Spread Your Blanket

A Message for Parashat VaYehi 2017

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Following the death of Yaakov, a somewhat familiar scene unfolded between Yosef and his brothers. It harkened back to the events surrounding Yosef’s self-revelation to them seventeen years earlier (44:14-34). The brothers again felt guilt and fear for their past treatment of Yosef, they again prostrated themselves before him, and yet again offered themselves as slaves:

“And they charged Yosef, saying: “…And so now, forgive, pray, the crime of the servants of your father’s God” … And his brothers then came and flung themselves before him and said, “Here we are, your slaves.” (50:15-18)

Yosef’s response echoed his past reply, as well:

And Yosef said: “Fear not, for am I instead of God? While you meant evil toward me, God meant it for good…” (19-20)

He assured his brothers once more that he would not exact revenge, and attributed all that had transpired to a grand providential plan.

There is, however, a significant difference between the two scenarios. Whereas Yehudah had singularly set forth the offer of self-slavery in the past (44:16, 33), that suggestion now came from all of the brothers. In contrast to Yehudah’s past performance as a “lone leader” of the group, he was now joined by all of his brothers in an approach of Yosef.

* * * *

Difficult situations challenge a community to decide between the opposite reactions of “dispersal” and “cohesion.” Dispersal refers to individual, self-centered thinking and action. Faced with adversity, members retreat from the collective whole in search of individual safety. Cohesion, however, is when a community comes together to find a solution. Realizing that no individual can singularly handle the situation, members of the community tackle the dilemma with the input and support of a larger group.

* * * *

Howard Shultz, CEO of Starbucks, once described his first encounter with my rosh yeshivah, Rav Nosson Tzvi Finkel zt”l, of Yeshivat Mir. He and a group of prominent American businessmen had the opportunity to briefly meet with Rabbi Finkel, whereupon the rabbi asked them, “Who can tell me what the lesson of the Holocaust is?” Rabbi Finkel dismissed the various answers suggested by the men, and then proposed his own:

“As you know, during the Holocaust, the people were transported in the worst possible, inhumane way – by railcar...After hours and hours in this inhumane corral with no light, no bathroom, cold, they arrived at the camps…They went off to the bunkers to sleep. As they went into the area to sleep, only one person was given a blanket for every six. The person who received the blanket when he went to bed had to decide: “Am I going to push the blanket to the five other people who did not get one, or am I going to pull it toward myself to stay warm?”

Reaching the climax of his description, Rabbi Finkel concluded the lesson:

“It was during this defining moment that we learned the power of the human spirit, because we pushed the blanket to the five others.”[1]

* * * *

Confronted by the fear of revenge upon their earlier encounter with Yosef, the brothers stood back as a disparate group of individuals with only one vocal leader. They “clutched their blankets tightly” and shared them with no one. Reexperiencing the same emotions seventeen years later, however, the brothers now “pushed their blankets” to one another and stepped forward as a unified unit before Yosef.

Difficult times present us with the decision of “dispersal” – when we keep our blanket to ourselves, or “cohesion” – when we push it to others. Find your blanket and push it to others.

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[1] Yehuda Heimowitz, Rav Nosson Tzvi (Brooklyn, NY, 2012), pg. 380-81. It should be noted that this message was based, in part, upon his uncle R. Hayim Shmuelevitz’s well-known explanation of a passage in Sanhedrin 20a. See Sihot Mussar (Jerusalem, IS, 2004), pg. 153.

Parashat VaYehi: Yaakov's Last Attempt

1) Listen to tonight's class, "Yaakov's Last Attempt," here. Follow along with the sources here.

2) Read the devar Torah, regarding the irony of "Avel Misrrayim," which we referenced in the class, here. I later found that R. Zvi Grumet noticed this as well, in his Genesis: From Creation to Covenant, here.