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Yaakov's Reunion with Yosef and the Message of the Shema

Among the most dramatic moments of the drama-rich parasha of Vayigash is the reunion between Yaakov Avinu and his beloved son, Yosef, whom he had presumed dead for twenty-two years. The Torah records that at the moment of their reunion Yosef wept (46:29). Rashi, quoting the Midrash, comments that Yaakov did not weep; instead, he was busy reciting shema. Why would Yaakov recite shema specifically at this moment, when he sees his son for the first time in over two decades? What about shema rendered its recitation the most appropriate activity Yaakov could engage in just at this moment?

Rav Hersh Yaar, in his "Chamudei Tzvi," explains by taking a closer look at the meaning and significance behind the verse, "Shema Yisrael Hashem Elokeinu Hashem echad." Why must we declare the oneness of God on a daily basis? Rav Yaar cites an earlier source explaining that this declaration emphasizes that both what we perceive as good and that which appears bad originate from the same source - the Almighty. In the ancient world, many peoples could not accept the notion of a single divine power governing the forces of good and evil. Opposing forces in the world were interpreted as the manifestations of competing divine powers. The source cited by the Chamudei Tzvi draws an analogy to one who sees a surgeon perform an operation and then treat other patients by giving them fine food and drink. The onlooker concludes that these must be two different physicians - one cruel, heartless doctor who treats patients with violence and bloodletting, and the other who performs his work kindly and gently. He could not understand that the doctor's mode of treatment depended on the specific needs of the patient. Many have attributed Pharaoh's stubborn reluctance to free the Hebrew slaves to this belief. He was convinced that the plagues resulted from the God of evil; ultimately, however, the God of good would prevail. When we declare "Shema Yisrael," we affirm the single, shared origin of all phenomena to which we bear witness in the world. Whether His treatment of us appears kind or cruel, gentle or fierce, loving or harsh, He is one. (The Malbim, in his commentary to the verse of "Shema Yisrael," explains similarly.)

Yaakov's arrival in Egypt and reunion with Yosef ushered in a period of tranquillity and happiness that he had not before experienced. He had lived a life replete with fear, tension, anxiety, contention and sorrow, until these final seventeen years of his life under Yosef's care in Egypt. He wished to emphasize to his family who now settles in Egypt that "God is one." The same God who took Yosef away from him for over twenty years has brought them back together. The same God who had him flee to Lavan and sent Esav after him has now blessed him with peace of mind and happiness. Lest Benei Yisrael fall prey to the pagan influences of Egyptian culture, Yaakov emphasizes "Hashem echad" - God is one, regardless of His seemingly conflicting treatment of us.

This message would prove critically important as the bitter exile unfolds. In the Egyptian exile as well as every other stage of Jewish history, we have experienced good times as well as hardship. The common thread that has run continuously throughout all our experiences has been our faith and tradition, encapsulated in this heroic proclamation of "Shema Yisrael." We have never abandoned our firm belief in the one God who has the power over both good and evil, wealth and poverty, joy and sorrow, light and dark. This faith has enabled us to hope for better days during times of hardship. Lamenting the destruction of Jerusalem in Megilat Eikha, the prophet Yirmiyahu declares, "The kindness of the Lord has not ended, His mercies are not spent; they are renewed every morning - ample is Your grace!" (Eikha 3:22). Regardless of the difficulties we face, we are promised that God's kindness is renewed with every rising sun, that He is, has been, and always will be, the God of compassion.

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Yaakov's Description of his Years

After Yaakov Avinu arrives in Egypt, Yosef takes his father and introduces him to Pharaoh, who inquires as to the patriarch's age. Yaakov's response strikes us as somewhat peculiar: "Yaakov answered Pharaoh, 'The years of my dwelling are one hundred and thirty. Few and hard have been the years of my life, and they do not come up to the life spans of my fathers during their days of dwelling'" (47:9). Why doesn't Yaakov simply answer the king's question? Why does he bemoan his difficult life rather than simply telling Pharaoh his age? Indeed, one Midrashic passage, cited by the Chizkuni and other Ba'alei Tosefot (see Da'at Zekeinim), criticizes Yaakov Avinu for complaining about his life (as we discussed in a S.A.L.T. two years ago).

Many commentators, however, seek to justify and explain Yaakov's comments. One approach, adopted by the Ramban, Rashbam and Chizkuni, claims that Pharaoh inquired about Yaakov's age because he looked exceedingly old. Unaccustomed to meeting people wearing such an aged appearance, Pharaoh was curious to know just how old Yaakov was. The patriarch replied that in fact he has not yet reached exceedingly old age (a life span of one hundred and thirty years was still common at that time), but his crisis-ridden life, the anxiety, fear, hard work, and sorrow he had suffered during his relatively short life has made him look old.

Seforno explains much differently, taking a closer look at the text and distinguishing between two terms: "yemei chayai" ("the days of my life") and "yemei megurai" ("the days of my dwelling"). A careful reading of Pharaoh's question reveals that he asks Yaakov specifically about "yemei shenei chayekha" - the days of the years of your life. Yaakov, however, replies that "yemei shenei megurai" - the days of the years of my dwelling - number one hundred and thirty.

Seforno claims that "megurai" denotes physical existence itself, whereas "chayai" refers to a certain quality of existence, a life of tranquillity and happiness. Yaakov tells Pharaoh that although he has physically lived for one hundred and thirty years, much of that period cannot be described as "chayai" - a life of peace and happiness. His forefathers, by contrast, enjoyed this quality of life ("shenei chayei avotai") over the course of their lifetime ("bi-mei megureihem"); although they, too, experienced the hardships of exile, they did not endure the ongoing struggles that Yaakov encountered.

Thus, Yaakov responds as he does for purposes of clarification; Pharaoh had inquired about "yemei shenei chayekha," so Yaakov finds it necessary to draw this distinction between "shenei chayai" and "shenei megurai."

Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch likewise distinguishes between these two terms, only in a different direction. He claims that the difference involves not stability and tranquillity, but rather the religious and spiritual dimension of life. Whereas "megurai" denotes simply physical existence, "chayai" describes an existence characterized by spiritual achievement, the fulfillment of one's religious responsibilities and the realization of his potential.

Pharaoh inquired as to "shenei chayekha," but Yaakov clarifies that this is not the correct question. He understood that Pharaoh asked about his age, not about his religious achievement. He therefore informs the king of "shenei megurai" - his years of physical existence, and then humbly laments what he perceives as his all too few years of "shenei chayai," of spiritual achievement. He confesses to having fell short of the accomplishments of his predecessors, of having failed to transform all his years from "shenei megurai" - mere physical existence - into "shenei chayai" - an existence rich in spiritual meaning and achievement.

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The Meaning of Yosef Closing Yaakov's Eyes

As Yaakov makes his way to Egypt to reunite with his son, Yosef, God appears to him in a prophetic vision and offers him encouragement. Among the promises the Almighty makes to Yaakov is, "Yosef will place his hand over your eyes" ("ve-Yosef yashit yado al einekha" - 46:4). What does this mean?

Several different interpretations appear in the commentaries. Perhaps the most straightforward understanding is to view the term as a euphemism for Yosef's provision of all Yaakov's needs throughout his years in Egypt. The Rashbam, Seforno and Chizkuni (in his second approach) interpret along these lines, only they differ in the way they extract this meaning from the words. Seforno explains that Yosef's efforts on his father's behalf will absolve Yaakov of the need to "open his eyes" to supervise his affairs. Throughout his years in Egypt, Yaakov could "keep his eyes closed," enjoy a worry-free life as his son cares for all his needs. The Rashbam and Chizkuni, by contrast, reread the word "einekha" (your eyes) as "inyanekha" - your affairs. This phrase thus means that Yosef will pay full attention to all of Yaakov's concerns.

Another group of Rishonim adopt a much different, more literal approach, one which appears as early as in the commentary of Rav Sa'adya Gaon. Rav Sa'dya cryptically writes, "He will close your eyes." Meaning, Yosef will perform the customary ritual by which a son closes his father's eyes immediately after his death. God thus informs Yaakov that Yosef will attend his death. The Ibn Ezra, Radak and Chizkuni (in his first approach) follow this explanation in their respective commentaries.

This interpretation, of course, raises the question as to the significance of Yosef's closing his father's eyes. What does this represent, and why must God inform Yaakov of his son's presence at his death? Two different possibilities within this general approach appear in the commentaries. The Chizkuni explains this promise to mean that Yosef will ensure the return of Yaakov's remains to Eretz Canaan for burial there. This accommodates the explanation given by the Chizkuni and many others - including Rashi - of the immediately preceding clause in this verse: "… and I will surely bring you back." According to many Rishonim, God here guarantees Yaakov of his burial in Canaan. It stands to reason, then, as the Chizkuni explains, that the following clause - "Yosef will place his hand over your eyes" - relates to that promise.

The Radak, however, takes a different approach. God guarantees Yaakov that Yosef will not only tend to his needs, but will remain in power after Yaakov's death to support Yaakov's children and grandchildren.

We conclude with one final interpretation of this verse, along the lines of "derush," by Rav Yeshaya Ehrenfeld (a grandson of the Chatam Sofer), in his work, "Shevet Sofer." As several commentators explain, as he traveled to Egypt Yaakov felt concerned over the spiritual well-being of his family. What kind of relationship will develop between Benei Yisrael and the Egyptians? Will they remain distinct? Will they retain their identity even while their interact with the Egyptians on all different levels? If they assimilate too thoroughly, will they ever make it back to Canaan to fulfill their national destiny?

God therefore promises him, "I will descend with you to Egypt, and I will surely bring you back." The presence of God will accompany Yaakov and his family in Egypt, ensuring their distinctive identity and eventual return to Canaan. Moreover, "Yosef will place his hand over your eyes." Rav Ehrenfeld suggests that Yosef will serve as a source of comfort, assuaging Yaakov's fears. The fact that Yosef has remained loyal to his past and the teachings of the patriarchs even while ascending to the peak of the Egyptian bureaucracy will reassure Yaakov that with the Almighty's help, his offspring will retain their Jewish identity even in the spiritually hostile environs of Egypt, and they will ultimately return to the land of their forefathers.

 

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Sheep that Egyptians Exchanged for Grain

Towards the end of Parashat Vayigash we read of Yosef's management of the Egyptian economy during the devastating seven-year famine. As the famine intensified, the Egyptian people offered more and more of their own possessions - and, ultimately, themselves - in exchange for food. At one stage, they retained ownership over their lands but sold their cattle: "They brought their livestock to Yosef, and Yosef gave them bread in exchange for the horses, for the stocks of sheep and cattle, and the donkeys; thus he provided them with bread that year in exchange for all their livestock" (47:17). Among the animals listed in this verse, the sheep are perhaps the most noteworthy. As we know from Parashat Vaera (Shemot 8:22) and countless Midrashim, the Egyptians worshipped sheep. Yet, when famine struck, food prices soared and the Egyptians peasantry lost everything but their animals, even these deities became mere barter used in the purchase of grain. In fact, Rav Shemuel Yaakov Rateh (in "Divrei Shir") suggests that for this reason alone the Torah went through the trouble of listing the types of animals the Egyptians exchanged for grain - to emphasize the rapid deterioration of sheep's status from superhuman creatures to dollar bills.

If so, then the aforementioned reference to the Egyptians' deification of sheep in Sefer Shemot takes on particular significance. We do not know when this happened, but at some point - most likely immediately after the famine's end - the Egyptians once again accorded superhuman qualities to this animal. Once Egypt's agriculture recovered and returned to its glory, its population once again prostrated themselves before their own success, symbolized by the sheep. Whereas they had been previously compelled to acknowledge a higher force who can subdue Egypt's seemingly invincible power source, thereafter they reverted back to their pagan ideals and recognized no being greater than their national symbol of prosperity.

This cycle has repeated itself in many forms and on many different levels throughout history. When difficult times set upon us, when we encounter individual or communal crisis, we come face-to-face with the limitless power of God. These are particularly humbling experiences, as we must come to terms with our own helplessness and total dependence on a higher force. As the crisis thankfully dissipates, so does this awareness. Our confidence returns and we rest comfortably in the deceptive fortress of our own competence. "A new king arose over Egypt, who did not know Yosef" (Shemot 1:8). We so easily forget the message of Yosef, who stood before the pagan world and declared, "Not I! God will see to Pharaoh's welfare" (Bereishit 41:16). Even during times of good health, peace and prosperity, we must remember to attribute our welfare and success to the only One with the power to grant us these precious blessings.

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Chushim - Son or Sons of Dan?

Amidst its description of Yaakov's resettlement in Egypt, Parashat Vayigash digresses to list the names of Yaakov's children and grandchildren who joined him. This list includes the lone son of Dan (the eldest son of Bilha), Chushim. Curiously, however, the Torah employs the plural form, as if Dan had more children than just Chushim: "U-vnei Dan Chushim" (literally, "The sons of Dan: Chushim"). The Gemara in Masekhet Bava Batra (143b) cites this verse in an attempt to decide a case involving a father of a son and daughter who declares that he bequeaths his possessions "le-banai" - "to my sons." Does he refer to his son or to both children? This question hinges around the issue as to whether a single son can be referred to with the plural form "banai." Abayei cites our verse as evidence that indeed the plural form can refer to just a single son. Rava, however, dismisses the proof, citing a different explanation for the Torah's use of the plural form in our verse. The Torah here may have meant that Dan's descendants were numerous like "chushim," or reeds. The Gemara then brings other instances in Tanach where the word "u-vnei" appears in reference to a single son.

What emerges, then, are two different explanations for the plural form "u-vnei" in this verse: either this term can, at times, refer to a single son, or it alludes to the multitude that emerged from Chusham's offspring.

The Ibn Ezra, however, suggests that Dan had two sons, one of whom died. The plural form is used include the other son as part of Dan's family. Now since the verse reads, "Dan's sons: Chushim," the Ibn Ezra presumably claims that Dan had two sons named Chushim. As it is hardly likely that Dan would give the same name to both his sons, we may assume that, according to the Ibn Ezra, Dan's second son waborn after the death of his first, and he named his second son, Chushim, after his first son who bore that name.

Interestingly enough, Rav Aharon Levin, in his "Ha-derash Ve-ha'iyun," notes a possible halakhic ramification of the Ibn Ezra's position. Rav Levin cites earlier sources who discuss the propriety of naming a child after an older sibling who had died, and notes that at least according to the Ibn Ezra's interpretation, we have proof that indeed one may do so.

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Ramses or Ra'amses - Rashi and Ibn Ezra

Parashat Vayigash introduces us to the Egyptian city of Raamses: "Yosef settled his father and his brothers, giving them holdings in the choicest part of the land of Egypt, in the region of Raamses, as Pharaoh had commanded" (47:12). As some commentators have noted, however, a verse towards the beginning of Sefer Shemot implies that this area was built only later, after Benei Yisrael's bondage began: "They set taskmasters over them to oppress them with forced labor, and they built garrison cities for Pharaoh - Pitom and Raamses" (Shemot 1:11). If the Hebrew slaves built Raamses, apparently it did not previously exist; how, then, did Yaakov and his family settle there?

For this reason, presumably, Rashi, in his commentary on that verse in Shemot, claims that "they built" actually means "they fortified." The Egyptian taskmasters had the slaves transform the two residential areas of Pitom and Raamses into well-fortified cities suitable for the storage of the country's treasuries.

The Ibn Ezra, however, explains differently. He notes a subtle difference in pronunciation between the two references to this city. In Parashat Vayigash, the silent "sheva" vowel appears underneath the letter "ayin" in the word, rendering a pronunciation of "Ramses." In Parashat Shemot, by contrast, a "chataf patach" appears underneath the "ayin," yielding a pronunciation of "Ra'amses." Based on this distinction, the Ibn Ezra claims that these are two different cities, one which Yaakov's family inhabited upon their arrival in Egypt, and another that Benei Yisrael built when they were subjected to slavery.

Rav Yitzchak Rosenblat, in his work, "Chedvat Yotzer," points out that this dispute between Rashi and Ibn Ezra will have practical ramifications in a case where the ba'al korei (the one reading the Torah in the synagogue) mispronounces the word in either of these two verses. The general principle is that when the ba'al korei misreads a word, he must repeat it only if his misreading alters the meaning of the text. According to Rashi, "Ramses" (in Parashat Vayigash) and "Ra'amses" (in Parashat Shemot) refer to the same city; as such, misreading "Ramses" as "Ra'amses" - or vice-versa - is inconsequential (though should optimally be avoided). According to the Ibn Ezra, however, confusing the two words significantly alters the meaning of the text, as we deal here with two different geographic locations; therefore, a ba'al korei who reads one instead of the other should have to reread the word correctly.

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Yaakov's Emigration to Egypt- Planned or Coerced?

Yaakov hears that Yosef is still alive and exclaims, "I will go and see him before I die!" (45:28). The next verse tells that indeed, Yaakov took his family and all his belongings and embarked on his trip. Instead of proceeding directly to Egypt, however, "he came to Be'er Sheva, where he offered sacrifices to the God of his father Yitzchak." Why did he stop in Be'er Sheva to bring sacrifices rather than traveling straight to Egypt?

One answer suggested by many commentators arises from the prophecy Yaakov receives while in Be'er Sheva: "God called to Yisrael in a vision by night… And he said, I am God… Fear not going down to Egypt… " (46:2-3). Apparently, Yaakov stopped over in Be'er Sheva because he was afraid to go to Egypt. Why? A wide variety of possibilities appear in the commentaries; the Abarbanel himself suggests six reasons why Yaakov may have feared. The Ramban suggests that Yaakov knew that his descent to Egypt marked the beginning of the exile, and he needed divine encouragement that his offspring will survive the grueling conditions of bondage. In a slightly different vein, the Midrash Hagadol and Rabbenu Yosef Bekhor Shor explain that Yaakov sought to receive God's permission before leaving Eretz Yisrael. After all, back in Parashat Toledot, God forbade his father Yitzchak from leaving Canaan to escape famine (26:2-3).

An entirely different approach is taken by the Netziv, in his "He'amek Davar." According to the Netziv, Yaakov had no intention of moving to Egypt at this point in time. He planned to go and see Yosef "before I die," at some point before his death, though not now. Instead, his renewed vitalization - "the spirit of their father Yaakov was revived" (45:27) - prompted his proactive response to the grave famine from which his family suffered. Rather than purchasing grain from Egypt, he decided instead to move to Be'er Sheva, just as his father had done when famine struck. There Yitzchak had enjoyed agricultural success and economic prosperity despite the harsh conditions (26:12). Yaakov followed this example and relocated in Be'er Sheva. He first offers sacrifices to "the God of his father, Yitzchak" to pray for the same success his father had enjoyed. Only when God appeared to him and urged him to continue onward to Egypt did Yaakov take his family to see Yosef.

Truth be told, this approach of the Netziv appears to be the simple meaning of a Midrash with which we are very familiar. We recite in the Haggadah that Yaakov and his family went to Egypt "annus, al pi ha-dibbur" - against their will, by divine decree. On the surface, it seems that Yaakov settled in Egypt only to obey God's command; otherwise, he would have stayed in Canaan.

Other commentators, who adopt the more conventional reading that Yaakov willingly moved to Egypt, presumably understood this Midrash differently. God orchestrated events in such a way that Yaakov and his family were practically grabbed from Canaan - by force of circumstance - and forcibly transferred to Egypt. Though they were not directly commanded to leave Canaan, the sequence of events that unfolded practically forced them into relocating in Egypt, such that God's decree of exile could be fulfilled.

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Yosef's Choice of Words: Ascend

In Parashat Vayigash, Yosef reveals himself to his brothers and bids them to bring their father and families to Egypt where he will support them through the devastating famine. When ordering their return to Canaan to bring Yaakov, Yosef says, "Quickly, go up to my father… " (45:9). Rashi here cites the famous comment of Chazal that "Eretz Yisrael is higher then all other lands."

The question arises, why did Rashi wait until this point to make this comment? The Torah has employed expressions of ascent regarding trips to the Land of Israel, and descent for travel in the opposite direction, many times earlier in Sefer Bereishit. Did Rashi simply forget about Chazal's explanation until he reached Parashat Vayigash?

Some have explained that Rashi wished to highlight the greatness of Yosef as manifest through this single word, "alu" (go up). In Egypt, Yosef became effectively the second most powerful man in the world. Or, given his responsibility for providing grain for the entire Middle East, he may well be considered the single most powerful person in the world at the time. He had achieved wealth, fame, power, prestige, respect and glory. Yet, he could still view his homeland, where he suffered the scorn, contempt and hostility of his brothers, as "higher" than the land of Egypt. Despite his success in Egypt, he always considered Eretz Yisrael the "holy land," the place where one can achieve the closest possible relationship with the Almighty, and the center of his nation's destiny. Rashi here tells us not only of the unique quality of Eretz Yisrael, but also of Yosef's heroic recognition of this quality even after having risen to power in Egypt. (This perspective expresses itself in next week's parasha, too, as Yosef bids his brothers to bury him in Canaan.)

This understanding teaches us two important lessons. First, we learn about the need to maintain a broad, national and historical perspective above and beyond our personal accomplishments. One must never become too overwhelmed by his own success to consider national concerns and think about the larger destiny of Am Yisrael as a whole.

Additionally, a second, somewhat less obvious lesson emerges from this analysis of Rashi's commentary: when one says something is often as significant as what he actually says. As we have seen, Rashi's decision to wait until this point to cite Chazal's comment reveals a beautiful insight into Yosef's remarkable character. A truly wise commentator knows not only what to say, but when to say it.

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Why did Pharaoh Ask about Yaakov's Age?

When Yosef introduces his father, Yaakov, to Pharaoh, the Egyptian king inquires as to the saintly patriarch's age. Yaakov answers with not only a number, but also a description: "Few and hard have been the years of my life, nor do they come up to the life spans of my fathers during their sojourns" (47:9). The Midrash criticizes Yaakov's complaint, commenting that thirty-three years were taken from his life as punishment for the thirty-three words of self lamentation he spoke to Pharaoh.

Someone with the time and patience to count the number of Yaakov's recorded words in this brief conversation will arrive at a lower number than thirty-three (21). How did Chazal calculate his words to number thirty-three? The answer is that Chazal counted all the words in the Torah's account of this conversation, starting from "Pharaoh said to Yaakov" and through Yaakov's response to the king's inquiry. One who counts the words contained in the two verses of 47:8-9 will, indeed, arrive at thirty-three.

Needless to say, this itself begs for an explanation. Why should Yaakov be punished for Pharaoh's question? Why should the words uttered by Pharaoh - and even the words used by the "narrator" in this context - count towards the shortening of Yaakov's life?

Rav Chaim Shemuelevitz explains that the answer lies in a more obvious question regarding this entire scene: did Pharaoh really have nothing else to ask Yaakov except his age? Could these two men not find any better topic of conversation?

Rav Chaim answers that Pharaoh's question indicates that Yaakov wore his troubles on his face. The Egyptian monarch saw in front of him a frail, elderly gentlemen, whose wrinkled complexion and squinted eyes told the tale of his brother's plot to kill him, his father-in-law's attempts to cheat him, the difficult family life he suffered from the rape of his daughter through the sale of his favorite son, and starvation from famine. This woeful appearance prompted Pharaoh to inquire about his guest's age. Chazal teach us that for this alone Yaakov was punished. A tzadik of his stature was to avoid sharing his personal crises with others, and greet others warmly and pleasantly, with a joyous smile and friendly countenance. Therefore, the words spoken by Pharaoh when inquiring about Yaakov's age counted towards the shortened years of his life.

While most of us cannot expect of ourselves to live at the standards demanded of Yaakov Avinu, this Midrash must open our eyes to this important quality of maintaining one's pleasantness even during trying times. Life is full of pressures, anxieties, disappointments, and challenges. But as much as possible, we must try to put it all aside when speaking with others, and to afford others the warmth and friendliness we expect from them.

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Yehuda Approaches Yosef

Parashat Vayigash opens with Yehuda's impassioned plea to Yosef that he allow Binyamin, who was charged with stealing the viceroy's silver goblet, to return to Canaan. The parasha opens, "Yehuda approached him and said, 'Please, my lord, let your servant speak something in the ears of my lord, and do not be angry with your servant… '"

The opening word "vayigash," after which the parasha is named, has caught the attention of some commentators, already from the time of Chazal. Yosef and his brothers had stood in the same room all along; what does it mean that Yehuda "approached" Yosef? This word prompted the Midrash to interpret the term as an expression of hostility. They thus view Yehuda's appeal as a belligerent attack against the Egyptian viceroy (as opposed to the straightforward implication of the verses, which give a far more submissive impression of Yehuda).

A particularly interesting explanation, however, is cited in the name of the work "Gelilei Zahav." Although Yosef's brothers spoke some Egyptian, they followed the customary protocol which dictated that foreigners speak to government officials in their native tongue through a translator. It was considered disrespectful to address a member of the country's royalty with broken, inarticulate and grammatically incorrect speech.

At this point, however, as Binyamin stood on the brink of slavery in Egypt, Yehuda felt compelled to appeal to the viceroy directly, without the filtering process of the translator, in order that the full force of his emotion penetrate the ruler's heart. He therefore "approached" Yosef to speak with him directly, in Egyptian, rather than through a translator. This also explains Yehuda's request, "let your servant please speak something in the ears of my lord." He asks permission to speak straight "into the ears" of Yosef, without any intermediary. Recognizing the violation of royal etiquette involved in speaking in his broken Egyptian vernacular, Yehuda then adds, "do not be angry with your servant." He begs Yosef to temporarily suspend the rules to allow him to properly convey the fervor and emotion of his appeal.

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