When I was younger, I was first introduced to the saga of the story of Joseph that continues in this week’s Torah portion, Vayigash, by way of none other than Andrew Lloyd Webber’s musical. My sister at one point would play the cast recording of this musical literally every day at full blast. Now while the catchy songs still continue to linger in my mind, for any of us that have spent time with the original text of the portion, we have come to quickly learn that there is a great depth to the wisdom of this story that holds its own next to the still fun and campy elements of the musical.
At the start of Joseph’s journey, we initially saw a young man who was the most favored among his brothers bringing about jealousy among them. While their heinous acts to nearly kill him and then sell him into slavery are borderline criminal, Joseph was merely acting upon his ego against his brothers. After all, who as the youngest of eleven brothers wouldn’t want to try to hold their place against all of their older siblings? Joseph’s journey continues forward with trying moments and yet he holds on. When he discovers his innate talent as a dream interpreter, he notes prophetically that this is actually God’s vision and he is merely being guided by this divine inspiration. Joseph’s talent elevates him to a place of new opportunity when he becomes Pharaoh’s right-hand man, and suddenly, even though he has been tested by a road of adversity, he has stumbled into new fortune. Today, we would often call this a ‘blessing in disguise.’
In this week’s portion, Joseph reveals his identity to his unknowing brothers, and I was initially drawn to three verses which spoke to me out of the incredibly human portrait they paint of Joseph.
The first in Gen. 45:5 reads:
וְעַתָּ֣ה ׀ אַל־תֵּעָ֣צְב֗וּ וְאַל־יִ֨חַר֙ בְּעֵ֣ינֵיכֶ֔ם כִּֽי־מְכַרְתֶּ֥ם אֹתִ֖י הֵ֑נָּה כִּ֣י לְמִֽחְיָ֔ה שְׁלָחַ֥נִי אֱלֹהִ֖ים לִפְנֵיכֶֽם
“Now, do not be distressed or reproach yourselves because you sold me hither; it was to save life that God sent me ahead of you.”
Joseph seeks to calm his brothers, and then he continues in verses
7 and 8:
וַיִּשְׁלָחֵ֤נִי אֱלֹהִים֙ לִפְנֵיכֶ֔ם לָשׂ֥וּם לָכֶ֛ם שְׁאֵרִ֖ית בָּאָ֑רֶץ וּלְהַֽחֲי֣וֹת לָכֶ֔ם לִפְלֵיטָ֖ה גְּדֹלָֽה: וְעַתָּ֗ה לֹֽא־אַתֶּ֞ם שְׁלַחְתֶּ֤ם אֹתִי֙ הֵ֔נָּה כִּ֖י הָֽאֱלֹהִ֑ים וַיְשִׂימֵ֨נִי לְאָ֜ב לְפַרְעֹ֗ה וּלְאָדוֹן֙ לְכָל־בֵּית֔וֹ וּמשֵׁ֖ל בְּכָל־אֶ֥רֶץ מִצְרָֽיִם
“God has sent me ahead of you to ensure your survival on earth, and to save your lives in an extraordinary deliverance. So, it was not you who sent me here, but God; and God has made me a father [meaning: an advisor] to Pharaoh, lord of all his household, and ruler over the whole land of Egypt.”
Joseph, who could point his finger at his brothers and say, how could you have done this to me?, rather stands before them in great deference to what he sees as God’s bigger plan for him and his brothers, and thus really for the entire land, which is suffering from famine. I was so moved by this moment. It brought me to think about my own experience over the past year in which I delved into my own study of Mussar, a practice that is introspective and spiritual. Mussar, the Jewish tradition of focusing on how individual traits and values operate and inhabit our own lives, made me think of the very first middah, the first trait that one begins with in such a practice. This is the trait of anavah, humility. You see, one has to step back in an act of humility to make room for the growth and enlightenment one is seeking to find through this process, so it is only natural to begin with this focus on humility. In this portion, Joseph models this trait while also embodying an open-heart and forgiveness for his brothers. Gone is the ego that once was the catalyst for everything that followed. On the nature of ego, esteemed teacher of Mussar, Alan Morinis says:
“The cause of much suffering can be traced back to issues of ego. The Mussar teachers find ego lurking behind anger, as the source of impatience. The Talmud goes so far as to equate egotism with idolatry. This is not just a convenient metaphor; there is room for only one deity on the altar of our lives, and if we elevate ego to that rank, then we provide no place for God at the center. Being egotistical is not like idolotry; it is idolatry. And humility is the antidote.”
Joseph sends his brothers home with generous gifts, and just before they leave, he says in verse 24: אַֽל־תִּרְגְּז֖וּ בַּדָּֽרֶךְ
“Do not be quarrelsome on your way (home).” This almost parental advice is once again sparked by Joseph’s immense humility to say to the brothers: Let’s put the past behind us. Don’t argue about what happened. Let’s move forward. Could Joseph have given them any greater gift than that?
Rav Kook, the first chief rabbi of Israel and one of my favorite thinkers and teachers, noted that Joseph’s journey from his anger-stirring prediction to his brothers that they would one day bow down before him to the fulfillment of that prophesy spanned a total of 22 years. 22 is also the number of letters in the Alef-bet. Rav Kook noted that through the combinations and permutations of these letters, we are able to express all of our thoughts and ideas, and yet if we were to lack even one letter, we would be unable to fully create certain expressions.
Likewise, a dream could take years to be realized -- maybe even as long as 22 years. When I reflect upon the actual dreams that I have at night -- both the good ones and the not-so-good ones, I sometimes find myself wondering what they all mean. I like to become my own Joseph, looking for what Rav Kook warned us “not to disregard.” For he said, quoting a Kabbalistic teaching, that “in every vision, there resides some element of truth and some grain of wisdom.” After all, Andrew Lloyd Webber and his lyricist Tim Rice did say that “Any Dream will Do.”
Ken Y’hi Ratzon. May this be God’s will. Amen.