Why did One Brother Need to Open his Sack Early?

Among the peculiar incidents that Yosef’s brothers experienced when they went to Egypt to purchase grainis the return of their money. Before Yosef sent the brothers back to Canaan to bring Binyamin, holding Shimon as “security,” he instructed his servant to stock the brothers’ bags with grain and also to return the money with which they had paid for the provisions (42:25). Two verses later, we read that when the brothers arrived in an inn for lodging on their way home, one brother opened his luggage to get fodder for his donkey, and he discovered his money. The brothers reacted with horror, figuring that they were being framed. Later (verse 35), the Torah relates that the rest of the brothers unpacked their bags after they arrived home, and discovered that all their money had been returned.

One might wonder why only one of the nine brothers had to open his luggage at the inn, while the other eight did not look into their bags until their arrival in Chevron. Intuitively, we might have suggested that all the animals needed to be fed, and so one brother opened his luggage to bring fodder for all the animals. The Torah, however, states explicitly that this brother opened his luggage “to give his donkey fodder” – clearly indicating that he fed only his donkey, and not the others. The question thus arises as to why the other brothers had no need to open their luggage to feed their donkeys throughout the journey, but one brother did need to feed his donkey.

We should perhaps rephrase the question in light of a careful reading of Yosef’s instructions to his servant before the brothers’ departure. He told the servant to do three things: 1) fill the bags with grain; 2) place the brothers’ money in their bags; 3) give them tzeida la-derekh (food for the road). As eight of the nine brothers did not have to open their bags at any point throughout the trek from Egypt to Chevron, we may reasonably assume that the tzeida la-derekh was transported separately from the luggage. The luggage was loaded onto the donkeys without any intention to access it until the arrival home, and the tzeida la-derekh was carried on the brothers’ shoulders, or perhaps around their waist, for easy access. It also stands to reason that this tzeida la-derekh included food for the animals, which was obviously just as necessary for the trip as food for the brothers themselves.

Accordingly, the question becomes why one brother’s supply of tzeida la-derekh did not last him until the arrival home. The brothers were all provided a full-trip’s supply of food for themselves and their animals, and yet one of them had to open his luggage to get food for his donkey. Why?

Rav Mordechai Luzzato (Italy, 1720-1799), in an unpublished manuscript entitled Ru’ach So’a(cited and discussed by Rav Baruch Brenner at http://ybm.org.il/hebrew/LessonArticle.aspx?item=2896), addresses this question and presents a surprisingly simple answer. Namely, nine brothers returned to Canaan on that trip – but with ten donkeys. Shimon remained behind in Egypt, and we may presume that his brothers took his donkey with them back to Canaan. After all, the brothers all traveled to Egypt to purchase grain for their families suffering from a dire food shortage in Canaan, and even if Shimon himself was not returning on this trip, his family desperately needed food. The nine brothers therefore took along Shimon’s animal which was loaded with grain. However, Yosef’s servant, in preparing the brothers’ provisions for the trip, failed to take into account the extra donkey, and provided the brothers with food for only nine animals, not ten. Therefore, one of the brothers, who was responsible for feeding the extra donkey, ran out of fodder during the trip, and was forced to open his luggage.

Indeed, Rashi (42:27), citing Bereishit Rabba, writes that the brother who opened his bag in the inn was Levi. It appears that Shimon and Levi worked closely with one another, and therefore, it was Levi who assumed responsibility for Shimon’s donkey during the trip back to Canaan. As such, it was he who ran out of fodder and had thus had to open his bag during the stopover in the inn. The other brothers, however, had no need to open their luggage until they arrived home in Chevron.

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Grief at Finding Money in the Sacks

Parashat Miketz tells of Yosef’s harsh treatment of his brothers when they arrived in Egypt to purchase grain. Yosef, who was the Egyptian vizier and whom his brothers did not recognize, accused them of spying and demanded that they bring their youngest brother, Binyamin, to Egypt. Before they left to bring Binyamin, Yosef instructed his servant to fill their sacks with food and to return the money with which they had purchased it. The Torah relates that as the brothers journeyed back to Canaan, they lodged in an inn, where one of them opened his bags. To the brothers’ horror, he found his money in their bags. As they were already under suspicion, they knew they would be accused of theft, and they panicked: “Their hearts left them; they trembled one to another, saying, ‘What is this that God is doing to us!’” (42:28). (Later, when they arrived home, they discovered that all their money was in their bags.)

The Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 91) relates that Rabbi Levi made reference to this incident in his eulogy of Rabbi Simon. He cried, “The tribes [Yaakov’s sons] found something, and it says, ‘Their hearts left them’; we, who lost Rabbi Simon – all the more so!” Rabbi Levi noted that if the brothers lamented the discovery of their money, then certainly people must lament when they lose a valuable treasure, such as a great sage of Israel.

This eulogy seems, at first glance, very difficult to understand. The brothers did not lament simply because they found their money. They lamented because the money’s appearance in their luggage would likely lead to a criminal accusation against them. What does this have to do with the loss of a great rabbi?

Rav Soloveitchik, in his eulogy for Rav Chayim Heller (transcribed in Shiurei HaRav, p. 50), explained that Rabbi Levi refers here to the angst of lost opportunities:

A small error of timing brought them to this anguish. Had they opened their bags immediately after they left Egypt, they would never have been tortured by the fear of false accusation. They could have returned the money to that queer person, to straighten things out. But they tarried a bit in checking their sacks, and when they did, they were already far away… It would be a long way back. To return would be difficult; to approach the strange viceroy, dangerous. The direct way to rectify the mistake was blocked. Therefore, their hearts went out and the trembled. The Rabbis evaluated the reaction of the brothers to the finding of the money: “They should have checked their sacks before leaving…!”

The brothers grieved not only because of the precarious situation that had unfolded, but also because they could have so easily avoided this situation. All it would have taken was a quick glance in their bags before leaving. Realizing the opportunity they had squandered, the brothers trembled.

Rabbi Levi said that he and his peers now look inside their “sacks” and find them empty, bereft of their revered colleague. Throughout the time Rabbi Simon was among them, they had the opportunity to appreciate his qualities and stature and to draw knowledge and inspiration from his scholarship and character. The feeling of dread and emptiness they now experience could have been avoided, if they had availed themselves of this great treasure during his lifetime. Rabbi Levi mourned not only the loss of a revered sage, but also the lost opportunity to properly appreciate and learn from him. His message was that we ought to appreciate and take advantage of all that we have while we have it, rather than be forced to look back later in anguish lamenting the opportunities that we squandered.

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The Guilt of Shimon and Levi

The Torah in Parashat Miketz tells of how Yosef, as the Egyptian vizier, cast baseless allegations against his brothers who had innocently come to purchase grain in Egypt, accusing them of coming to spy (“meragelim atem” – 42:9). The Torah does not explain the basis that Yosef contrived upon which he could make such claims, but we find in the Midrashim several descriptions of how Yosef tried to “verify” his unfounded suspicions. In one particularly poignant passage (Bereishit Rabba 91), the Midrash has Yosef telling his brothers, “I see in my [fortune-telling] goblet that two of view destroyed the large metropolis of Shekhem, and then you sold your brother to Arabs…” Yosef pointed to his brothers’ history of violence – from Shekhem to mekhirat Yosef – as cause for suspicion.

It is likely that Chazal here are not so much explaining how Yosef justified his allegations, as much as drawing our attention to these two events – the assault on Shekhem, and the sale of Yosef. In response to Yaakov’s condemnation of their assault on Shekhem, Shimon and Levi justified their violence by affirming their right and obligation to defend their sister’s honor: “Shall our sister be [treated] like a harlot?!” (34:31).

But any merit this argument may have had disappeared once they directed their violence toward their younger brother. The Midrash here subtly points to the fact that Shimon and Levi could not truly claim to have been driven by fraternal loyalty if they were also capable of perpetrating a violent crime against their brother. If their sense of devotion to family was so strong that it warranted killing the entire male population of a large city, then it would have been strong enough to enable them to accept Yosef’s preferred status in the family without seeking his elimination. Their violence against Yosef undermined whatever possible legitimacy they could have accorded to their violence against Shekhem.

Extreme measures taken in the name of idealism must past the test of consistency for it to be eligible for legitimacy. One cannot claim to be driven by sincere, altruistic motives if he does not display the same passion and unwavering commitment to the ideal in question under all circumstances. Chazal here criticize the brothers for bending the rules for the sake of their sister and then bending them again to turn against their brother. If we are passionately committed to “Dina,” we must be passionately committed to “Yosef.” We cannot invoke idealistic claims to justify extreme behavior unless we are prepared to make all sacrifices necessary to promote those ideals we claim to defend.

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בעיית המעשרות בתקופת שיבת ציון

הצעת הנביא מלאכי: "הביאו את כל המעשר אל בית האוצר, ויהי טרף בביתי, ובחנוני נא בזאת, אמר ה' צבאות, אם לא אפתח לכם את ארובות השמים והריקותי לכם ברכה עד בלי די" (י), מעוררת שאלה הלכתית. הרי התורה עצמה אסרה בחינה כזו שנאמר: "לא תנסו את ה'" (דברים ו', טז), ותשובת ר' הושעיא: "חוץ מזו, שנאמר: "... ובחנוני נא בזאת" (מלאכי ג', י)" (תענית ח ע"ב). דהיינו במצוות המעשר מותר לצפות לגמול מוחשי, ונראה וכך אף התפרש לחז"ל הביטוי "עשר תעשר" (דברים י"ד, כב) - "עשר בשביל שתתעשר" (תענית ח ע"ב).

בעיה זו של הפרשת תרומות ומעשרות בראשית ימי הבית השני העסיקה את הנביא כתוצאה מהמצב הכלכלי השפל, ואכן מצאו חז"ל את הנסיונות לתקן את המצווה שהיתה רופפת בידם באמנת נחמיה (נחמיה י'). וכך דרשו במדרש שוחר טוב (מזמור נז): "כיון שחזרו בימי עזרא קיימו מעשרות מעצמן, דאמר ר' יוחנן: "ואת ראשית עריסותינו ותרומותינו... ומעשר אדמתנו ללוים" (נחמיה י', לח), "ובכל זאת אנחנו כורתים אמנה" (שם, א), מהו "ובכל זאת"? אלא בין שאנו גולין ובין שאין אנו גולין, מקיימים אנו מצות מעשרות". אמנם נתהוו פרצות בקיומה של המצווה, ובלשון חז"ל: "אתם גזרתם עלי בשביל המעשרות וגמרתי עמכם, ואחר כך חזרתם בכם וקבעתם אותי, ובטלתם אותן, שנאמר "היקבע אדם אלקים" (מלאכי ג', ח), מהו "היקבע"? אמר ר' לוי: כל מי שמבקש לומר לחברו למה אתה גוזל לי, יאמר לו: למה אתה קובע לי" (מדרש שוחר טוב, מזמור נח).

אגב הדיון על חלוקת המעשרות לכהנים וללויים שומעים אנו בדברי חז"ל במסכת יבמות (פו ע"ב) בדבר קנס שקנס עזרא את הלויים, ושם בא פירושו של ר' יוסף מבעלי התוספות על הפסוק "הביאו את כל המעשר אל בית האוצר" (י), שבית האוצר היה לשכה שתיקן עזרא לתת שם תרומת הכהנים, רעיון המסתייע מנוסח האמנה בספר נחמיה פרק י': "והלוים יעלו את מעשַר המעשֵר לבית אלוקינו אל הלשכות לבית האוצר, כי אל הלשכות יביאו בני ישראל..." (נחמיה י' לט-מ); וכך אף מסופר על הלשכה שעשה לו אלישיב הכהן: "ויעש לו לשכה גדולה ושם היו לפנים נותנים את המנחה הלבונה" (נחמיה י"ג, ה).

נערך ע"י צוות אתר התנ"ך

לקריאת המאמר המלא מתוך "עיונים בפרקי מקרא" ששודרו בקול ישראל

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Why Were Yosef's Dreams Different than Pharaoh's?

Parashat Miketz begins with Pharaoh’s two dreams, the first featuring seven lean cows devouring seven fat cows, and the second involving seven lean sheaves of grain devouring seven robust sheaves. Yosef prophetically informed Pharaoh that the two dreams foretold seven years of surplus that would be followed by seven years of harsh drought. He then told the king that God showed him this dream twice to indicate that these events would imminently begin to unfold (41:32).

Rav Yechiel Michel Mushkin, in his work Meikhal Mayim Chayim, raises the interesting question of why this theory – that a repetitious dream suggests its imminent fulfillment – did not also apply to Yosef’s own dreams. In his youth Yosef had seen two visions foretelling his ultimate rise to leadership – the vision of his brothers’ sheaves of grain bowing to his, and the vision of the sun, moon and eleven stars bowing to him. Seemingly, as in the case of Pharaoh’s dreams, these two visions both conveyed the same message. Yet, whereas regarding Pharaoh’s dreams the repetition indicated that the dreams would soon begin to unfold, the fulfillment of Yosef’s dreams took many years to occur. How do we explain this discrepancy?

Rav Mushkin answers (“al derekh derush”) by drawing a comparison to two people who have jobs to complete. They both work diligently and skillfully, but one completes his job in three days, while the other completes his assignment in three years. The reason for this discrepancy is that the first man is a tailor who was hired to prepare a suit, while the other is a builder contracted to construct a magnificent palace.

The question of why Yosef’s dreams did not materialize immediately is fundamentally mistaken – because they did materialize immediately. The process was put into place already then, during Yosef’s youth, but building a capable, effective leader does not happen overnight. Several commentators noted that Yosef’s experiences as Potifar’s servant were vital for preparing him for his eventual leadership role by giving him knowledge about the Egyptian aristocracy. Likewise, the Meshekh Chokhma (end of Parashat Vayeshev) commented that Yosef was imprisoned together with Pharaoh’s royal servants so that he could learn from them about royal protocol and become an effective ruler. Surplus and drought can unfold rather quickly, but the development of character and skills can take many long years. And thus Yosef’s dreams were no different from Pharaoh’s; they, too, began to unfold immediately, though the process extended over a prolonged period.

Often, our dreams our ambitions are being realized, but without us knowing it. Achieving our goals is seldom easy or quick, and the process advances in small, incremental steps. Yosef’s dreams were being fulfilled even as he was hurled into a pit with snakes and scorpions, and even when his master’s wife accused him of assaulting her. As long we as never expect our dreams to be fulfilled in an instant, and acknowledge that great achievements can take many years to accomplish, we will be able to recognize and feel gratified over how they are realized each and every day of our lives, as we inch ever closer toward the ambitious goals we should be setting for ourselves.

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Reuven's Foolish Suggestion

The Torah in Parashat Miketz describes the tension that built in Yaakov’s home when his sons returned from Egypt without Shimon and informed him of the vizier’s demand that they bring the youngest son, Binyamin. Yaakov refused to allow Binyamin to go, and Reuven and Yehuda both made attempts to persuade him. Reuven said, “You may kill my two sons if I don’t bring him to you” (42:37). This irrational plea, unsurprisingly, did not convince Yaakov, who, according to the Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 91:9), retorted, “You firstborn fool! Are they only your sons, and not mine?” Later, when the family found itself without food, Yehuda said to his father, “I will guarantee him; you can demand him from me. If I don’t bring him to you and present him to you, I will have sinned against you forever.” Upon hearing Yehuda’s guarantee, Yaakov – albeit reluctantly – acceded to their demand and allowed Binyamin to join them in Egypt.

The Midrash (ibid.) makes the following remarkable comment concerning this episode: “When a person would say something reasonable [‘davar metukan’] before Rabbi Tarfon, he would say, ‘Kaftor va-ferach!’ And when somebody would say something insensible [‘davar shel batala’], he would say, ‘My son shall not go with you along the journey that you are traveling.” Rabbi Tarfon would respond to an insensible remark by citing Yaakov’s response to Reuven – “My son shall not go with you” – comparing the speaker’s foolish statement to Reuven’s bizarre offer of his children’s lives as a guarantee for Binyamin’s safe return to Canaan.

What is the Midrash’s intent in relating this practice of Rabbi Tarfon? Why is it important that he reacted to irrational comments in this manner?

Rav Yaakov Flexer, in his Or Torah, explains that both Reuven and Yehuda were sincere and determined in their efforts to persuade Yaakov. Reuven’s effort failed, however, because his plea was crude, unrefined, and, as the aforementioned Midrash indicates, insulting to Yaakov. Reuven, who would later be criticized by Yaakov for his impulsivity (“pachaz ka-mayim” – Bereishit 49:4), spoke rashly, graphically exclaiming, “I’ll even kill my own kids if I don’t bring back yours,” and his comments came across as offensive and uncouth. Yehuda, by contrast, spoke passionately but elegantly. Rather than offend Yaakov, he expressed unbridled respect and commitment – “I will have sinned against you forever.” Yehuda spoke with dignity and good taste, and this, apparently, made the difference in obtaining Yaakov’s consent to send Binyamin.

When Rabbi Tarfon heard a “davar metukan,” words spoken elegantly and in good taste, he proclaimed, “Kaftor va-ferach.” This term is taken from the Torah’s description of the menorah in the Mishkan (Shemot 25:33), and refers to the decorations that adorned the menorah. When a person speaks about Torah in an elegant, refined manner, he “adorns” the Torah, bringing it honor and making it attractive and appealing. But when a person representing the Torah speaks in an unrefined, distasteful manner, his words will be as effective as Reuven’s plea, “You may kill by two sons.” Words spoken without careful thought and consideration, and without sensitivity and respect, will fall on deaf ears, and will certainly fail to achieve the desired result of “kaftor va-ferach” which we must all be striving to achieve.

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Yaakov to his Sons: Do Not Appear Satiated

We read in Parashat Miketz of the harsh drought that ravaged Egypt, Canaan and the surrounding regions, and Yaakov’s decision to send his sons to purchase grain in Egypt, the only nation which had stored grain during the preceding years. Yaakov introduces his instruction to his sons with the rhetorical question, “Lama titra’u” (42:1), a phrase whose precise meaning is subject to considerable discussion. Rashi, in his commentary, cites a surprising interpretation of this verse from the Gemara (Ta’anit 10b), according to which Yaakov and his family did not actually have to go to Egypt for grain. Yaakov was telling his sons that they should not “appear…as though you are satiated” in the eyes of the surrounding peoples. At this point, the family still had food supplies, but Yaakov nevertheless decided they should purchase grain from Egypt rather than be seen enjoying comfort and stability while the other people in the area suffered from hardship and deprivation.

Rav Yisrael Yaakov Yaffe, in his work Kenesset Yisrael, explains the Gemara to mean that as Yaakov and his sons were men of wealth, they were able to purchase grain from the local merchants. By the law of supply and demand, the price of grain in Canaan soared during the drought years, and the poor were compelled to journey to Egypt to purchase grain, which was available for a far more reasonable price there than in Canaan. But the wealthier classes had no need to undertake the long, grueling journey, as they could afford to pay the high price charged by their local proprietors. Yaakov’s sons belonged to this second group, and they felt it would be undignified and beneath their stature to join the peasants in purchasing provisions from Egypt.

Yaakov, however, warned that they were endangering the family by protecting their pride. As difficult and humiliating as the trip to Egypt might be, it was nevertheless preferable to join the lower classes in purchasing from Egypt rather than stand out as wealthy and comfortable by paying high prices and Canaan. Rav Yaffe adds that Yaakov may have likely been affected by the memory of when his father, Yitzchak, brought upon himself the hostility of the Philistines by amassing wealth during a time of grave financial hardship. Yaakov understood that although he and his sons had the means to weather the financial storm, at least at this early stage of the famine, it was wiser for them to join the peasant class in purchasing grain in Egypt.

Yaakov’s warning to his sons alerts us to the fact that overly concerning ourselves with our reputation and honor is not only vain, but also self-defeating and potentially dangerous. If we determine our course of action based on the norms of our self-perceived “class,” we end up wasting valuable resources and also arousing the jealousy and animosity of the people around us. Sometimes it’s preferable to “go to Egypt,” to compromise our comfort and prestige, for the sake of maintaining peaceful relations and goodwill.

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From Food to Calamity to Hope - a Midrash on Yaakov and Grain

We read in Parashat Miketz that as the drought in Canaan tightened its grip and Yaakov and his family faced the prospect of starvation, “Yaakov saw there was food in Egypt” (42:1), and thus decided to send his sons to Egypt to purchase grain.

The word used in this verse is shever, and Chazal in the Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 91) detected in this term an allusion to the other meaning of shever – “destruction,” or “calamity.” But they also noted that by switching the punctuation of the letter shin, it can be transformed into the letter sin and the word may thus be read as sever – “hope.” The Midrash writes:

“There was shever” – this refers to the famine; “there was sever” – this refers to the surplus.

“There was shever” – this refers to “Yosef was brought to Egypt”; “there was sever” – this refers to “Yosef was the ruler.”

“There was shever’ – this refers to “They shall enslave them and torment them for four hundred years”; “there was sever” – this refers to “but afterward they shall leave with great wealth.”

The Midrash depicts Yaakov as being both hesitant and hopeful about sending his sons to Egypt. On the one hand, Egypt was also suffering from drought, but on the other hand, it had stored grain during the preceding years of surplus. Egypt was a place where foreigners were brought as slaves, yet the story of Yosef shows how even a foreign slave could rise to greatness. Yaakov’s family’s dependence on Egypt would begin a lengthy and insufferable period of exile, but that period would culminate in triumph and glory.

The message conveyed by this Midrashic passage is that difficult situations can be approached in one of two ways – as shever, or sever. We can lament and grieve over the harsh circumstances into which we are thrust, or we can look beyond the difficulties and see the opportunities they present. We do not have to experience “shever” – breakdown – when hardships surface; we can instead approach those moments in our lives as “sever,” periods of hope and optimism.

Rabbi Norman Lamm elaborated on this message conveyed by the Midrash:

The ability to survive adversity instead of being crushed by it lies in the
G-dly gift of transforming a “shin” to “sin,” “shever” to “sever,” ruin to hope.

… this capacity for converting “shever” to “sever” is not a matter of blind optimism. The Jew was always optimistic, but it was an enlightened optimism, not what William James called “the religion of the happy-minded.” It is the kind of optimism that requires insight and intuition, not only a profound and mighty faith. And more than that. The transformation of “shever” to “sever” requires hard work and sweat and often great sacrifices. It is a way of life, not a way of shielding one’s self from the ugly realities of existence.

And thus Yaakov right away tells his sons, “Why do you look at each other? I have heard that there is food in Egypt – go there and purchase from there, so that we may live and not die.” The way we transform shever to sever is by working to find the solutions, not by “looking around” in helpless panic. Yaakov bids his sons, “redu shama” – “go down” into the complex and difficult place that was ancient Egypt, the place of potential shever, to find the sever, to find the source of hope and optimism that they desperately needed.

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What has God Done to Us - or Were We Responsible

The Torah in Parashat Miketz tells of Yosef’s brothers’ experiences upon arriving in Egypt to purchase grain. Yosef, who supervised the distribution of grain, accused the brothers of spying and ordered them to bring their youngest brother – Binyamin – to prove their innocence. Before they left Egypt, Yosef had his servants fill the brothers’ bags with grain and to return the money which they had used to pay for it. During the brothers’ trip home to Canaan, they stopped off for lodging and one brother opened his bag and saw that his money was returned. The brothers were frightened, certain that the money was returned so they could then be accused of theft. The Torah tells that the brothers panicked and exclaimed, “What is this that God has done to us?!” 42:28).

The Gemara in Masekhet Ta’anit (9a) cites this verse as an example of a phenomenon described by King Shelomo in Mishlei (19:3): “Ivelet adam tesaleif darko ve-al Hashem yizaf libo” – “A person’s folly distorts his path, yet his heart is furious at the Lord.” King Shelomo observes how people often blame God for problems resulting from their own mistakes, and the Gemara points to the verse here in Parashat Miketz – “What is this that God has done to us?!” – as an example of this tendency. The Maharsha explains that Yosef’s brothers were partially to blame for this predicament, as they failed to check their luggage before they left Egypt. Their bags were, apparently, unattended for a period of time during their stay, as they were filled by Yosef’s servants with grain and money. The brothers knew their bags were being filled with grain (see 42:19), and the responsible thing would have been to check their bags before leaving to ensure that they were handled properly. Yet, rather than acknowledging that their irresponsibility resulted in the current crisis, they lamented, “What is this that God has done to us?!”

Chazal here teach us of the importance of personal responsibility and accepting the consequences of our mistakes. Our belief in hashgacha – divine providence – could potentially lead us to absolve ourselves of responsibility and to minimize the need to take necessary measures and precautions to protect ourselves. After all, we might think, since our fate ultimately lies in God’s hands, and only He determines the outcome of every situation, our efforts make no difference. The Midrash here reminds us of King Shelomo’s warning, “Ivelet ish tesalef darko” – even as we believe in providence, we must accept responsibility for our mistakes. If we act irresponsibly, then we, not God, are to blame. When we find that our mistakes “distort” our “path,” our job is to try to get ourselves back on track and then do what we can to ensure to avoid such mistakes in the future, thereby turning every mistake into a valuable learning experience.

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Yosef the Provider and a Lesson for Teachers

The Torah in Parashat Miketz (42:6) describes Yosef as “ha-mashbir le-khol am ha-aretz” – the one who supplied grain to everyone who came to purchase provisions during the years of famine. He had overseen the storage of grain during the surplus years, and once the drought set in he oversaw the distribution of grain to the Egyptians and to foreigners who came to purchase food.

The Gemara (Sanhedrin 96) draws an association between the word “mashbir” used here in reference to Yosef, and the verse in Mishlei (11:26), “berakha le-rosh mashbir” – “blessings are upon the head of the distributor [of food].” The verse begins by warning that “monei’a bar yikevuhu le’om” – people will curse one who withholds grain, and then proceeds to promise blessing for one who freely dispenses grain. The Gemara, however, interprets the verse as referring not to one who provides food, but rather to one who teaches Torah. It states that one who withholds Torah knowledge from students is worthy of condemnation, whereas one who shares his knowledge is worthy of blessing. Based on the use of the word “mashbir” in this context, the Gemara establishes that one who shares his Torah knowledge will receive the blessings bestowed upon Yosef – the “mashbir.”

How might we understand this connection between Yosef’s distribution of grain and Torah instruction? Why is one who shares his knowledge compared specifically to Yosef?

The answer perhaps emerges from the context of the Torah’s description of Yosef as “ha-mashbir le-khol am ha-aretz.” The verse begins, “Yosef hu ha-shalit al ha-aretz” – “Yosef was the ruler over the land.” It seems that the Torah seeks to emphasize that despite Yosef’s stature as “ruler over the land,” he nevertheless concerned himself with “kol am ha-aretz” – each and every individual. Indeed, Chizkuni understands this verse as explaining that although Yosef was the ruler, he made a point of personally tending to each and every person who came to receive grain during the harsh drought that struck the region. This verse introduces the story of Yosef’s treatment of his brothers when they came to purchase grain, and in order for us to understand why the brothers came before Yosef, the Torah explained that Yosef dealt directly with everybody who sought food provisions, despite his stature as “ha-shalit al ha-aretz.”

On this basis, we can perhaps more fully understand the association drawn by the Gemara between Yosef and Torah education. The Maharsha, commenting on the Gemara, explains that the Gemara addresses the attitude a teacher should have toward weaker students. Chazal here condemn teachers who give up on less talented students and decide not to teach them, and praise those teachers who make their services available to students of all backgrounds and levels. Just as Yosef made himself available to all who came in need of grain, capable educators must make themselves available to all who seek Torah knowledge. They must follow the example of the “mashbir le-khol am ha-aretz,” and not view themselves as too important or distinguished to work patiently with less capable students.

(Based on a sicha by the Tolna Rebbe)

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Why did One Brother Need to Open his Sack Early?

Grief at Finding Money in the Sacks

The Guilt of Shimon and Levi

בעיית המעשרות בתקופת שיבת ציון

Why Were Yosef's Dreams Different than Pharaoh's?

Reuven's Foolish Suggestion

Yaakov to his Sons: Do Not Appear Satiated

From Food to Calamity to Hope - a Midrash on Yaakov and Grain

What has God Done to Us - or Were We Responsible

Yosef the Provider and a Lesson for Teachers

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