Comunidad Hebrea de Guadalajara
This week’s parashah introduces us to the last of the subject matters of the book of Genesis: the life of Joseph and his brothers. From Vayeshev onwards, we will see how the children of Israel (who is Jacob) will end up living in Egypt, thus generating the conditions for the story of slavery, Moses’ appearance, and the departure from the lands of Pharaoh.
Joseph’s story follows the same editorial line as the entire first book of the Pentateuch: parents with favorite children, brothers who fight without minding the consequences. In this sense, it is worthwhile to wonder why it is that the Torah does not hide all this family dysfunctionality, confronting us now and again with structures that cause much pain to the people involved. We can all feel Cain’s pain when he realized God favored his brother Abel. We can all sympathize with Adam and Eve’s loss before the first murder in history, which actually left them at the time with no descendants or continuity. We all suffer with Hagar’s and Ishmael’s eviction, and with Isaac seeing how his father Abraham raises the knife to sacrifice him. We all hear Esau’s bitter cry, when his father tells him there is no longer any blessing for him, and in like manner, we can experience what Joseph’s brothers felt, while he showed off with the tunic of many colors given to him by his father.
Why does the Torah tell us all these? Why doesn’t it disguise it, hide it, or simply leave it out? A possible answer is that the Torah is extremely truthful, and tells us what really happened. However, it is difficult to accept this approach, since for the Torah, the truth does not constitute the supreme value, even if it is very important. In genesis we see how God hides the truth from Abraham, when Sarah calls him “old” (Gen. 18:12-13), and almost at the end of the same book, we read that Joseph’s brothers will tell him things on behalf of Jacob which, seemingly, the patriarch never said (Gen. 50:15-16).
Another way to understand the reasons the Torah raises these issues would be to embrace determinism: the Torah speaks of dysfunctional families because as human beings, that is how we are. Just as nowadays siblings fight with each other, families break apart, and parents sometimes do what they shouldn’t, the same happened during the time of our ancestors, and will continue to happen forever and ever. Nevertheless, this approach contradicts the fundamental principle of the prophecy and the basic pillar of the Hebrew Bible: if there is something that our prophets have tried to teach us it is that there is always a chance to change, and that the future is not written on stone but rather built as it comes along, based on the choices we make. Just because a prophet says that a city will be destroyed, does not mean that it will necessarily happen. In this sense, Jonas, chosen to be read at the Mincha service of Yom Kippur, is a clear example of the non existence of fate.
In conclusion, for me, if the Torah shows us the limitations and weaknesses of our patriarchs and their families, it is because it relies on our capacity to, first, recognize ourselves in them, and second, to find the way to do things differently. That is why the concept of Tikkun, to repair or fix, is so important in our tradition. We are called upon to grow in spirit, so we rise above the challenges presented to us by life. We are not born perfect, but we are perfectible.
The capacity to improve ourselves is exemplified by something that occurs at the beginning of our parashah. The Torah tells us that Joseph went to his father and spoke badly of his brothers (Gen. 37:2). Facing such an unworthy attitude in such an important character of our people, the Chasidic rebbe Yehuda Leib Alter of Gur, also known as the Sefat Emet, writes the following: “A tzadik raises up the good deeds of all the children of Israel. But Joseph had still not reached perfection until after his trial. It was only then that Joseph was called “righteous” and raised the good deeds (of his brothers). It was for this reason that they were all united afterwards with their father. But when he first spoke badly, he was forced to descend to Egypt” (1:165).
Joseph was not born a tzaddik, and therefore, on his path to become a better person, he had moments of weakness when he denigrated his own brothers. Acknowledging and taking on these weaknesses, the Rebbe of Gur teaches us that Joseph was able to grow and overcome those stingy attitudes, until he became a righteous man, which allowed him to get together with his brothers, uniting his entire family once again.
In the spirit of our ancestors, we are also called to reflect on our actions, choices and ways, in order to improve those which need to be improved and, in this manner, endeavor to obtain not just our individual elevation as human beings, but also the possibility to join with others and work together towards a better world. Remember: although we are not born perfect, all of us are perfectible.
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