Yosef in the Pit and Hannuka Candles at a High Height

The Torah in Parashat Vayeshev describes the pit into which Yosef was cast by his brothers: “the pit was empty; it had no water” (37:24). Rashi cites the Gemara’s famous comments to this verse: “It had no water, but it had snakes and scorpions” (Shabbat 22a).

The Gemara makes this comment to answer the question of why the Torah bothered to specify, “it had no water” after it had already informed us that the pit was empty. It explains that the pit was, in truth, not entirely empty, as it contained dangerous reptiles.

The question arises as to why this information is significant. Why does it matter that the pit had snakes and scorpions? How does this detail add to the story?

One the simplest level, the fact that the pit was inhabited by dangerous creatures reveals the miraculous nature of Yosef’s survival. A person trapped in a pit with poisonous snakes does not ordinarily survive for too long, but Yosef miraculously lived until he was lifted and sold as a slave.

It is likely, however, that the Gemara here also makes this point for the purpose of criticizing Reuven, who had proposed throwing Yosef into the pit instead of murdering him. His intention, as the Torah clearly tells (37:22), was to later return and rescue Yosef. Reuven told his brothers that it would be preferable to kill Yosef passively – by throwing him into a pit where he would die of starvation – rather than kill him directly. His true intention, however, was to come back and lift Yosef from the pit to save him.

The Gemara’s comment should perhaps be read as a subtle, yet scathing, criticism of Reuven’s plan. The Sages here note the absurdity of the situation: the brothers ensured that there was no water in the pit, so Yosef wouldn’t drown, but didn’t they realize that there other dangers lurking? Did Reuven seriously think that Yosef would survive for even several hours? Didn’t he anticipate the presence of dangerous animals?

Ultimately, thanks to God’s supernatural protection of Yosef, Reuven is credited with saving his younger brother’s life. However, the Gemara perhaps notes Reuven’s failure in properly following through on his noble intentions. He admirably intervened to save Yosef, but he did not plan his strategy in a sound, detailed manner.

Many writers have attempted to find a point of connection between this statement of the Gemara and the immediately preceding comment, disqualifying Chanukah lights that were kindled at a height of twenty amot or higher. The only clear point of connection is that both statements were taught by Rabbi Natan bar Minyumi in the name of Rabbi Tanchum. But darshanim throughout the ages have searched for a deeper connection between the disqualification of high Chanukah lights and the snakes in Yosef’s pit.

We might suggest (al derekh ha-derush) that kindling the Chanukah lights at a height where they cannot be easily seen symbolically represents a failure to follow through on noble, idealistic intentions. We kindle the Chanukah lights out of a desire to glorify God’s Name and publicize the great miracle of the Hasmonean victory. If a person sets out to achieve this noble goal but places the candles in a place where they will not be seen, he acts irresponsibly. He has the right idea, but does not pursue it in a careful, calculated, responsible manner. Like Reuven, who laudably stepped in to save his brother but failed to take critical details into account, this individual admirably seeks to shine the light of Torah, but his execution of that goal is reckless and shoddy.

It’s not enough to have the right goals – they need to be pursued the right way. Good ideas must be followed up by good planning and good execution, for otherwise they will remain only as ideas.

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Tranquility vs. Challenge

Rashi, commenting to the opening verse of Parashat Vayeshev, famously cites a passage from Bereishit Rabba (84:3):

Yaakov sought to dwell in tranquility, but then the anguish of Yosef immediately pounced on him. The righteous seek to dwell in tranquility, but the Almighty says: “Is it not enough for the righteous that which is prepared for them in the next world, that they seek to live in tranquility even in this world?”

Many scholars and writers have raised the question of why the Midrash felt that Yaakov, and other righteous people, were wrong for seeking tranquility, and how we are to understand the Midrash’s response.

We might suggest that Chazal here do not intend to criticize Yaakov – or the tzadikim – for the natural quest for serenity, but rather seek to convey the basic lesson that these aspirations are seldom fully met in this world. “Is it not enough for the righteous that which is prepared for them in the next world, that they seek to live in tranquility even in this world?” Meaning, “tranquility” – in the truest sense of the word – is something that belongs in the next world, and not in our world. Of course, we all seek and yearn for peaceful, tranquil, pleasant lives, and we are certainly entitled to harbor such hopes and pursue this goal. But Chazal alert us to the reality that complete shalva (“tranquility”) is rarely experienced in this world. All people, at virtually every stage of life, endure some forms of hardship, pressures or disappointments. Even the righteous among us, whom we would naturally consider deserving of a bump-free road along the journey of life, are, like the rest of us, beset by personal travails of one type or another. We come into this world as employees, not vacationers; we are given problems to solve and responsibilities to tend to, and cannot expect to be left alone to relax in unbridled comfort and ease.

The Sages chose this context, the introduction to the story of Yosef, as the most suitable framework within which to present us with this reminder about life. Already an aged man, Yaakov had finally “settled down.” He had spent his entire life working toward this point – to settle in his homeland, Canaan, with his family. Many years earlier, Yaakov left Canaan and went to Charan to build a family and a fortune. He then returned to Canaan, and endured numerous travails as he made his way southward to Chevron, where he wished to settle. Now, he finally arrived at his final destination, at the stage he had wished for, the time when life would, once and for all, be normal and “tranquil.”

The unfolding story of Yosef thus exemplifies the message the Midrash seeks to convey. Yaakov finally arrived at the stage he anticipated, and suddenly his family was torn asunder by strife and even an apparent fratricide.

The Midrash’s warning is not intended to present us with a grim, disheartening view of life. To the contrary, it serves as a source of encouragement, reminding us that our pressures and struggles are simply par for the course. If we expect a perfectly smooth ride, we will meet with frustration and disappointment; but if we expect hurdles along the road, then when we confront them, we will have the resolve and confidence we need to successfully surmount them.

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Yosef's Dreams - Lack of Tact

We read in Parashat Vayeshev of Yosef’s dreams that foretold his future position of leadership over his brothers. He first dreamt about his brothers’ sheaves of grain bowing before his, and then dreamt of the sun, the moon and eleven stars – clearly representing his eleven brothers – bowing to him. The Torah describes the brothers’ angry reaction to Yosef’s first dream: “His brothers said to him, ‘Will you be king over us? Will you rule over us?’ They hated him even more, because of his dreams and because of his words” (37:8).

The commentators offer differ interpretations for the final phrase of this verse – “and because of his words.” While we readily understand that the brothers’ animus toward Yosef was reinforced by his dreams of leadership, what does it mean that the brothers were further angered by “his words”? Which “words” intensified their resentment, and why?

Rashi, the Rashbam and the Radak explain “his words” as a reference to the second verse in the parasha, where we read that Yosef would bring negative reports about his brothers to Yaakov. The Torah now tells us, quite simply, that on top of the hatred the brothers had already felt toward Yosef as a result of his tattling, they felt additional resentment because of his dreams which revealed his aspirations of authority over them.

Other commentators, however, explain differently, claiming that the Torah refers here to Yosef’s reporting his dreams to the brothers. Their intensified hatred was ignited not only by the dreams themselves, which revealed the kind of thoughts and ambitions that engaged Yosef’s mind, but also by his bringing these dreams to their attention. Seforno, for example, writes that when Yosef told his brothers, “Hearken, if you will, to this dream that I dreamt,” he meant that he wanted to them to take note of its message and implications, and this angered the brothers. Along similar lines, Malbim writes that Yosef’s reporting the dream to the brothers bespoke a demand that they accept the inescapable conclusion that he is their ruler. According to the Ramban, Yosef brought the news of the dream to his brothers “ke-mit’halel,” in a proud, self-adulating manner, thus raising their hostility to higher levels than it would have otherwise reached. Likewise, Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch writes, “…they hated him even more, both on account of the contents of his dream and for his impudence – as they took it to be – in insisting on telling them of it.”

The obvious but crucial lesson conveyed by this verse, according to this second interpretation, is that not everything which can be said should be said. What troubled the brothers was not merely Yosef’s aspirations of leadership, but also his indiscretion in expressing to them these hopes. Not all our thoughts and feelings about others should be articulated. True, as Rashi famously cites from the Midrash in his commentary just several verses earlier (37:4), it is wrong to feign friendship and cordiality to conceal feelings of animosity. But this does not mean that we should speak freely and indiscriminately about how we feel. We must exercise careful judgment before choosing which thoughts to divulge, and which to keep in our minds. Even if Yosef cannot necessarily be criticized for his dreams of leadership, he acted wrongly by informing his brothers of these visions. Just because these thoughts entered his mind, this does not justify allowing them to exit through the mouth.

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Yosef's Misplaced Confidence

The final section of Parashat Vayeshev tells of Yosef’s interpretations of the dreams dreamt by the baker and the butler – interpretations that ultimately proved correct, and also led to his release from prison. After predicting to the butler that he would be released from prison and reinstated in three days, Yosef added a request that the butler appeal to Pharaoh on his behalf. In the final verse of the parasha, we are told that the butler forgot about Yosef upon his release, and thus Yosef had to remain in the dungeon for another two years, until Pharaoh dreamt his unusual dreams and the butler recommended Yosef as an interpreter.

Rashi famously cites the Midrash’s criticism of Yosef’s handling of this situation: “Because Yosef placed his trust in him, to mention him, he had to remain imprisoned for another two years.” Surprisingly, Chazal frowned upon Yosef’s proactive efforts to secure his release by asking the butler to petition on his behalf. The Midrash cites in this context the verse from Tehillim (40:5), “Fortunate is the man who places his trust in the Lord, rather than turning to the arrogant [rehavim].” The Sages found Yosef guilty of placing his trust in a human being, rather than trusting that God would find a way to release him from the Egyptian dungeon, and attributed the extra two years of incarceration to this mistake.

Many writers and darshanim addressed the question of why it was wrong for Yosef to appeal to the butler for help. Certainly, we are to employ the practical means at our disposal to improve our situation, rather than sitting idly waiting for a miracle to occur.

An important source relevant to this Midrashic passage that has not earned much attention is the commentary of the Ralbag to this story. The Ralbag, interestingly enough, directly disputes the Midrash’s criticism of Yosef. According to the Ralbag, not only did Yosef act properly by requesting the butler’s assistance, but one of the purposes for which this story was written is to teach us to be resourceful and proactive. The Ralbag writes:

It is proper for a person to exert all his effort to extricate himself from the evil in which he finds himself through any means which can be helpful to him, rather than relying on a miracle… After all, Yosef, despite the fact that the [cognizance of] divine providence was entrenched within him to the very fullest, he appealed to the butler to mention him to Pharaoh that he release him from the dungeon.

The Ralbag proceeds to explain that the additional two years of imprisonment were not a punishment. Rather, God waited for the time when Yosef would be released under the ideal circumstances – when he would not simply regain his freedom, but rise to power and prominence. In direct contradistinction to the Midrash’s comments, the Ralbag views Yosef’s conduct in this episode as an example for us to emulate, demonstrating the importance of personal initiative and resourcefulness notwithstanding our firm belief in the absolute control of Providence over our lives.

The Ralbag’s comments bring to mind his discussion earlier in Sefer Bereishit, in Parashat Lekh-Lekha, where he disputes the controversial claim of the Ramban that Avraham sinned by relocating in Egypt when famine struck in Canaan. Whereas the Ramban maintained that Avraham should have remained in Canaan and trusted in God’s promise of prosperity, the Ralbag argues that to the contrary, Avraham’s residence in Egypt teaches us the importance of creative strategizing during times of crisis. The Ralbag’s remarks here in Parashat Vayeshev echo this perspective on the value of personal effort and initiative alongside belief in Providence.

Returning to the Midrash, we might suggest that Chazal were critical not of the request per se, but rather of Yosef’s confidence in the success of this route. The Midrash (as cited by Rashi) speaks of Yosef “hanging his trust” (“she-tala bo Yosef bitchono”) upon the butler, suggesting a degree of certitude and confident reliance. It seems that Yosef felt too assured that the butler was his ticket to freedom. The Midrash perhaps seeks to instruct that even as we utilize the means at our disposal to secure our wellbeing, we must realize that these means are but a few of the infinite possible ways in which our situation can be improved. In Yosef’s case, he figured that the butler would tell Pharaoh about Yosef’s innocence, and then Yosef would be released from prison. God, however, had a better plan, orchestrating events such that Yosef would be named the country’s vizier. Chazal here teach that although we are allowed and urged to strategize and utilize available means to address our problems, we must never assume to have the definitive solution. Even as we exert the necessary effort, we must remember that our fate ultimately rests in the Almighty’s hands, and only He can know with certainty which is the most effective and beneficial route to take.

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Reuven's (Midrashic) Dream Interpretation

The Torah in Parashat Vayeshev tells the story of mekhirat Yosef – the sale of Yosef as a slave. We read that Yosef’s brothers initially plotted to kill him and then cast his remains into a nearby pit, where they would likely never be found. Reuven, in a partially successful attempt to save Yosef, suggested to the other brothers that instead of killing Yosef directly, they should throw him into the nearby pit and let him die there naturally. Reuven’s argument for this idea was the moral concern to avoid directly murdering their brother, but the Torah tells that his true motivation was to later rescue Yosef from the pit (“le-ma’an hatzil oto mi-yadam” – 37:22).

The Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 84:15) suggests an explanation for why Reuven, as opposed to any of the other brothers, was driven to save Yosef’s life. At first glance, Reuven, as the biological firstborn, had more reason than any of them to resent the special distinction which Yaakov afforded Yosef. In fact, the verse in Divrei Hayamim I (5:1) states that the firstborn status was taken away from Reuven in the wake of the incident with Bilha, and given to Yosef. We might have thus expected Reuven to harbor even stronger feelings of resentment toward Yosef than the other brothers. The Midrash explained that Reuven wanted to save Yosef specifically because of his dreams of authority and leadership. Yosef had dreamt of all his brothers – including Reuven – prostrating before him. These dreams were a source of encouragement for Reuven, indicating to him that he was still included in Yaakov’s family despite the grievous sin he had committed. He had feared that he had forfeited not only his status as firstborn, but his inclusion in the developing nation of Israel. Yosef’s dreams included Reuven as part of the family, thereby easing Reuven’s fears of expulsion from the Israelite nation.

Rav Avraham Pam (cited in Rav Shalom Smith’s Rav Pam on Chumash, pp. 204-5) noted one of the practical messages conveyed by the Midrash’s comment:

Two people can hear the exact same words and react in diametrically opposite ways. Yosef’s dream of a sun, a moon and eleven stars bowing down to him infuriated his brothers, who cried out, “Will you then reign over us? Will you then dominate us?” (37:8). That same dream filled Reuven’s heart with joy and calmed his fears that he and his descendants would be banished forever from the Jewish nation. Instead of being angered and insulted by Yosef’s grandiose dream, he felt honored and relieved that he was counted as one of the eleven stars!

There are many situations in life where a person’s remarks may be interpreted in various ways, each listener hearing what he wants to hear. Wars between nations have broken out based on faulty communications. Countless business partnerships, friendships and marriages have been destroyed due to misconstrued remarks that wreaked havoc on the relationship. A Jew must train himself to look for the good in what he hears by following the advice of Chazal to judge everyone favorably (Pirkei Avos 1:6).

Obviously, it is not always easy to do this. It runs contrary to what present-day society thrives on, where the media anxiously waits to pounce on and publicize any ambiguous remark that can be misunderstood or misinterpreted. A good number of political careers have ended abruptly in disgrace because of a “slip of the tongue” – the remark was immediately pounced on by the press, taken out of context and blown out of proportion. Such occurrences have become so commonplace that people seem to think it is almost a mitzvah to act in such a manner. But nothing could be further from the truth.

Reuven and the other brothers heard Yosef’s dream together, but reacted in opposite ways. The other brothers heard of Yosef’s aspirations for dominion, and were enraged. Reuven, however, who had been plagued by anxiety over his questionable future, heard that he is included in the family, and rejoiced. A person’s words can be a source of anger or ridicule for some, but a source of respect and appreciation for others. The lesson of this incident, according to Rav Pam, is not to rush to criticize when we hear words that strike us as insulting. Often, there is a valid explanation for what was said, the words were spoken rashly in a moment of anxiety, or, as in the case of Yosef’s dreams, there are favorable aspects to the remarks which deserve focus and attention. Reuven’s response to Yosef’s dreams should thus remind us that there is more one way to react to what we hear, and it is up to us to choose the favorable response in the interest of avoiding unnecessary strife and contention.

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Yosef's Confused Priorities

We find in the Midrashim several different reasons for why God subjected Yosef to the test of Potifar’s wife, who unrelentingly attempted to seduce Yosef during the time he worked as her husband’s servant. According to one Midrashic passage (Bereishit Rabba 87), the test came as a punishment for Yosef’s attitude toward his situation in Egypt:

Yosef was thinking to himself and saying, “When I was in my father’s home, my father would see some nice portion and give it to me, and my brothers would then inject the evil eye within me. Now that I am here, I thank You that I am comfortable.”

The Almighty said to him, “… By your life, I will instigate the bear [Potifar’s wife] to come after you.”

According to this view, the test of Potifar’s wife came in response to Yosef’s sense of comfort and ease in Potifar’s home. He reflected on the difference between his childhood, when he endured the envy and “dirty looks” of his brothers as he enjoyed his father’s preferential treatment, and his current condition, where he was treated honorably by Potifar without being the target of ill will. God disapproved of Yosef’s perspective on his condition, and promptly subjected him to the lure of Potifar’s wife.

The question arises as to why Yosef’s thoughts were deemed improper. Yosef, as the Midrash describes, made a point of thanking the Almighty for the comfort he enjoyed in Potifar’s home. He did not take for it granted; to the contrary, he acknowledged the blessings in his life and expressed his gratitude for them to God. In fact, Yosef’s comments seemingly reveal an admirable and even inspirational quality – recognizing one’s blessings even under adverse conditions. Sold as a slave by his brothers to a foreign country, forgotten and forlorn, Yosef was still able to express his appreciation and thank God for the benefits he enjoyed. Is this not an admirable trait from which we all have much to learn? Should Yosef be criticized for recognizing and being thankful for the silver lining he detected within the dark clouds hovering over his life?

Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his Yalkut Yehuda, explains the Midrash’s comments by drawing a contrast between the depiction of Yosef in this passage and the opposite depictions of two other Biblical characters. In Bereishit Rabba (42), the Midrash relates that Hagar, Sara’s maidservant, had been Pharaoh’s daughter. But once Pharaoh saw the miracles God performed for Sara, he decided it would be preferable for his daughter to be a maidservant in the home of Avraham and Sara rather than grow as a princess in the Egyptian royal palace. Similarly, the Gemara in Masekhet Sanhedrin (99b) writes that Timna, the concubine of Esav’s son, Elifaz, had been a princess, but preferred marrying as a concubine into the family of Avraham and Yitzchak rather than retain her royal stature in another nation.

Off the backdrop of these stories of Hagar and Timna, the Yalkut Yehuda suggests, we can perhaps understand God’s disapproval of Yosef’s perspective on his condition in Egypt. Yosef began to appreciate the advantage of his prominent stature in Egypt over his compromised position back home – and this was his mistake. From the perspective of the Midrash, there can never be any advantage to living among Egyptian idolaters over living with Yaakov Avinu. Hagar and Timna chose to sacrifice their stature of royalty for the sake of associating with people of spiritual greatness; Yosef, conversely, began to appreciate the comforts of royalty which were not available to him in his father’s home. The Midrash thus seeks to remind us that when evaluating our condition in life, our material position should not be a leading factor in our assessment. The comforts Yosef enjoyed in Potifar’s home should not have provided any comfort over his forced exile from Yaakov’s home, because the spiritual benefits of living with Yaakov can never be substituted with the material comforts offered by Potifar.

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Yehuda, Yaakov, and Sons

Several different reasons have been offered for why the Torah disrupts the narrative of Yosef’s sale as a slave and his subsequent experiences in Egypt with the seemingly unrelated story of Yehuda and Tamar. Rashi (38:1) cites one view from the Midrash that finds the point of connection in the Torah’s introduction to the story of Yehuda – “Va-yered Yehuda mei’eit echav” (literally, “Yehuda descended from his brothers”) – which implies a kind of demotion. Yehuda had been regarded as the leader of the brothers, and the tragedy of mekhirat Yosef marked a grave failure of leadership which prompted the brothers to depose Yehuda from his stature. Another view in the Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 85) focuses on Tamar’s choice of words when sending a message to Yehuda as she was about to be executed: “Look, please, to whom this signet, garment and staff belong” (38:18). The phrase “haker na” (“look, please”) is the identical phrase used by the brothers when they produced to Yaakov Yosef’s bloodstained cloak (37:32). Yehuda’s tribulations told in the story of his sons and Tamar might thus be viewed as a kind of divine response to the ploy he and his brothers devised to mislead their father, as suggested by the voicing of the same words they uttered when deceiving Yaakov.

Additionally, the story of Yehuda might perhaps serve as a parallel to the story of Yosef, as the two prominent sons of Yaakov – one from Leah, and one from Rachel – both separate from the family and find themselves in complex situations as a result of seduction – Yehuda is forced to publicly confess impregnating his daughter-in-law, and Yosef is sent to prison after refusing Potifar’s wife. Together, these two concurrent series of events cast a dark cloud over the future of Yaakov’s family, and of the nation which they are destined to produce, setting the stage for the miraculous revival of the family and its growth into a large nation.

There may also be another, more subtle, aspect of this story that bears relevance to the developing saga of Yosef. After the death of his eldest son, Er, who left behind no children,Yehuda instructed his second son, Onan, to marry the widow in accordance with the laws of yibum (levirate marriage) that were, apparently, practiced back then. When Onan also died after his marriage, Yehuda chose not to allow his third son, Sheila, to marry Tamar, suspecting – perhaps irrationally – that he might meet the same fate as his two older brothers. Yehuda’s situation at that point strongly resembled the situation that his father would face later, at the time of the great famine in Canaan. Yaakov sent his sons to purchase grain in Egypt, and Yosef – the Egyptian vizier who oversaw the distribution of grain – demanded that they bring the youngest brother, Binyamin, the next time they come to Egypt, imprisoning Shimon as a guarantee. When the brothers returned to Canaan and informed Yaakov of the vizier’s demand, he refused to allow them to take Binyamin to Egypt. Having already lost two sons during travel – Yosef and Shimon – he feared for the wellbeing of his youngest, Binyamin. Like Yehuda, who refused to allow his youngest child to follow the route that led to his older brothers’ untimely deaths, Yaakov refused to allow Binyamin to travel away from home after the tragedies that befell two of his older brothers when they journeyed far from home. (This point was made in an article by Eitan Finkelstein.)

What might be the significance of this parallel? How does this resemblance between the situations faced by Yaakov and Yehuda contribute to our understanding of the events?

One possibility, perhaps, is that Yehuda’s background is what ultimately persuaded Yaakov to allow Binyamin to travel with his brothers to Egypt. As we read later, the conditions in Canaan deteriorated and the brothers again demanded that Yaakov allow them to take Binyamin to Egypt so they could go purchase grain. When Yaakov again refused, attempts were made to persuade him. Finally, Yehuda gave his father his word that he would personally guarantee Binyamin’s safe return, at which point Yaakov relented. Why did Yehuda’s guarantee change Yaakov’s mind? Why was he prepared to send Binyamin on this journey after receiving Yehuda’s pledge? Possibly, Yaakov knew that Yehuda fully understood his position. Having personally experienced the precise same situation, Yehuda could be trusted to identify with Yaakov’s fears. And thus Yaakov felt confident that, at very least, Yehuda would take his responsibility seriously. This was not an empty guarantee made in a desperate attempt to change the mind of an obstinate old father; rather, this was a genuine commitment borne out of a deep understanding of the predicament and the desire to ensure a favorable outcome. It was specifically the tragic story of Yehuda’s sons that ultimately facilitated the brothers’ return to Egypt, as it allowed Yaakov to feel confident in Yehuda’s commitment to ensure Binyamin’s safe return.

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דברי הצומות וזעקתם

עם הקמתו של הבית השני ולקראת תום שבעים שנות הגלות, התעוררה בעם שאלת היחס אל הצומות שנהגו בעקבות חורבן בית המקדש הראשון. פרק ז' פותח בתיאור בוא משלחת, ככל הנראה מאת גולי בבל, אל הכהנים והנביאים שבירושלים ובפיה שאלה על אחד הצומות (ז', א-ג). תשובת זכריה בפרקים ז'-ח' כוללת כמה נבואות קצרות, המבוססות על ציטוטים של נבואות קדומות מפי 'הנביאים הראשונים', בעיקר מנבואות ירמיהו. בפתיחה ובסיום מתייחס זכריה באופן ישיר לשאלת מעמד הצומות, ובתווך הוא סוקר את העבר ומזכיר את נבואות הפורענות הקדומות ואחר כך עובר לנבואות הנחמה.

א. 'הַאֶבְכֶּה בַּחדֶֹשׁ הַחֲמִשִׁי?': פתיחה - שאלת המשלחת (ז',א-ג).

מה המניע לשאלת ביטול הצום על החורבן ומהו שורש ההתלבטות? התחשבו בתזמון השאלה (א, ה) ובזהות השואלים. ראו את דברי הרד"ק: 'האבכה - כי עדיין לא היו מאמינים בבנין הבית מפני האויבים שהשביתו את המלאכה כמה שנים ועתה אף על פי ששמעו כי היו בונים היו קטני אמנה ולא היו רוצים לעלות מבבל כי לא היו מאמינים שישלם בנין הבית ויעמד מפני הצרים אותם ושאלו אם יצומו בתשעה באב כמו שעשו שבעים שנה'.

ב. 'הֲצוֹם צַמְתֻּנִי אָנִי?': בין צום לציווי (ז',ד-ז).

השאלה ההלכתית מופנית לכהנים ולנביאים, אבל רק זכריה משיב לעם הארץ ולכהנים גם יחד . מהי התפיסה העולה מדברי השואלים ביחס לצום ואיזו טעות יסודית מוצא בה זכריה? שימו לב להבדל בין האופי ההלכתי של השאלה לאופיה הנבואי של התשובה. חשבו, כיצד מאופיין הצום על פי דבריו של זכריה.

ג. 'וְלִבָּם שָׂמוּ שָׁמִיר מִשְּׁמוֹעַ אֶת הַתּוֹרָה... בְּיַד הַנְּבִיאִים הָרִאשׁנִֹים': הפרת צו ה' ועונשו (ז', ח-יד)

בפסקה זו שב זכריה ומפרט את תביעת הנביאים הראשונים ואי קיומה בידי האבות

1. עיינו בתיאור התביעה הנבואית (ט-י). מה מאפיין אותה? תנו דעתכם למבנה הפסקה - ארבע צלעות הנחלקות לשני צמדים מקבילים. בחנו את ההתפתחות בכל צמד ובין הצמדים

2. דברים אלה מבוססים על נבואות ירמיהו (בייחוד ירמיהו ז', ה-ט). השוו בין שתי הנבואות: איזו תוכחה השמיט זכריה מנבואת ירמיהו, ואיזו תביעה הוסיף על דבריו? נסו להסביר זאת על רקע תקופתו.

למעבר לדף הלימוד המלא מתוך התכנית "מתן על הפרק"

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Amos: Silencing the Prophets

The haftara for Parashat Vayeshev is taken from Sefer Amos, where the prophet presents a blistering condemnation of the selfish, self-absorbed, crooked and abusive upper class of the Northern Kingdom of Israel. The prophet here lists numerous offenses committed by the kingdom’s socioeconomic elite, most of which relate to the mistreatment of the poor. However, just before proceeding to describing the calamities God threatens to visit upon the people in response to their offenses, Amos turns to a much different type of wrongdoing: “I set up some of your sons as prophets, and some of your young men as nazirites… Yet you gave the nazirites wine to drink, and you commanded the prophets, ‘Do not prophesy’” (Amos 2:11-12). As mentioned, these verses conclude Amos’ list of wrongs committed by his audience, suggesting that they represent the climax of his scathing condemnation. The question thus arises as to how we might explain the special significance of this particular crime – giving wine to the nazirites and silencing the prophets. How does this offense, or these offenses, fit into the overall message Amos seeks to convey in this prophecy?

Dr. Shani Bechhofer (in Yeshiva University’s From Within the Tent: The Haftarot, p. 88) explains:

The navi and the nazir are both individuals who stand apart from society, who choose to partake not in its material pleasures as much as in its spiritual assets. They aspire to a more elevated way of being in the world, and choose to pursue this aspiration.

They are the idealists, the nazir enacting and the navi voicing an implicit or explicit critique of that which is taken for granted and unquestioned about personal and societal functioning. They thus serve as instigators of reflection and enemies of complacency. Amos points out that the disposition to pursue the spiritual and the sacred, to protest injustice and immorality, and to seek to improve oneself and one’s community, is a heavenly gift… The test is whether or not we will respond to the disequilibrium they create with reflection and teshuvah. How will the Jewish people nurture idealism among their young, what truths will they be ready to hear, how much spiritual ambition will they tolerate?

The prophets and nazirites were the nation’s idealists, and thus represented the silent or spoken voice of conscience, of protest to the status quo. The Israelite society’s forceful rejection of these idealists reflected the core of the ills decried by Amos. Underlying the specific offenses he enumerates is a general preoccupation with indulgence and greed that left no room for serious contemplation or moral conscience. The people would not for a moment allow the cries of the poor interfere with their orgies which included wine taken in lieu of unpaid debts (“yayn anushim” – 2:8). And certainly they had no patience or tolerance for the whistle-blowers who sought to disrupt their pursuit of vanity with inconvenient and uncomfortable reminders about substantive and meaningful values.

Amos’ censure of the people’s reaction to the nazirites and prophets is essentially a call to revisit our attitude toward idealism and calls for change. How do we respond to the “sons” and “young men,” the youthful idealists, who refuse to resign themselves to the conventional emphasis on material indulgence and comforts? What is our attitude to those who, through either word or deed, call for a reevaluation of our priorities, passions and values? In Amos’ time, these voices of conscience were resoundingly and cynically silenced. The prevailing attitude was one of, “Everything’s fine the way it is,” or “Leave us alone and mind your own business.” The presence of nevi’im and nezirim threatened to interfere with the people’s carefree complacency and self-indulgent pursuits. And thus their rejection of the nazirites and prophets is indeed the climax of Amos’ caustic portrayal of the Israelite society of his time.

This insight into Amos’ prophecy sheds new light on his famous prediction which appears toward the end of the sefer, foreseeing the time when God will send “hunger in the land – not a hunger for bread or a thirst for water, but rather to hear the word of the Lord” (8:11). Amos proceeds to describe how the people will scurry about pathetically in frantic search of the “devar Hashem,” to hear God’s instructions and admonitions. The people who now refuse to allow the “word of the Lord” the time of day, who angrily and viscerally reject, ridicule and revile the courageous voices of conscience among them, will one day search in desperation for some guidance. The time will come, the prophet predicts, when people will recognize the emptiness of vanity and will search high and low for something to fill the excruciating vacuum in their lives. They will seek out the prophets and nazirites whom they had either banished or tormented to death, but these will, of course, not be found. The result will be a great “hunger” for meaning and substance. Amos’ message is to relish idealism instead of ridiculing it, to welcome voices of conscience instead of silencing them; to satiate ourselves with the spiritual nourishment offered by the idealism in our midst, before it is driven away, leaving us with a dire thirst for something meaningful with which to fill our lives.

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Rav Amital on the Unnatural Jewish Monarchy

The Torah in Parashat Vayeshev tells the puzzling story of Yehuda and his daughter-in-law, Tamar. Yehuda’s oldest son, Er, died soon after his marriage with Tamar, who then married the deceased’s brother, Onan, in accordance with the rules of yibum (levirate marriage) which appear to have been observed even in those times. When Onan also died without children, Yehuda refused to allow Tamar to marry his third son, and so Tamar disguised as a harlot and stood along the road as Yehuda returned from shearing his sheep. Yehuda solicited her services, and Tamar became pregnant with twins.

Much has been said about the fact that the older twin, Peretz, became the ancestor of King David and thus, by extension, of the Davidic dynasty that will ultimately produce the Mashiach. Oddly enough, the eternal Jewish dynasty has its origins in the problematic union between Yehuda and his daughter-in-law, which occurred when the latter disguised as a prostitute. Moreover, Peretz’ descendant, Boaz, married the Moavite convert Rut, a marriage which, according to Midrashic tradition, was fraught with controversy, and this marriage produced Oveid, David’s grandfather. This is yet another “problematic” union that forms the roots and origins of the Davidic dynasty.

In addressing this enigma, Rav Yehuda Amital zt”l cited a comment by the Kotzker Rebbe concerning King David’s Moavite ancestry. The Rebbe remarked that the notion of kingship had to be “imported” from a foreign nation. The very concept of a human monarch exerting authority over the rest of the nation does not, in principle, have a place in Jewish life. As Gidon said to Benei Yisrael when they requested that he become their king after leading them to victory over Midyan, “ I shall not rule over you, nor shall my son rule over you – the Lord shall rule over you” (Shofetim 8:23). Similarly, God told the prophet Shemuel after the people approached him and demanded a king, “It is not you they have rejected; but it is Me whom they have rejected from ruling over them.” As we are all subjects of the Almighty, the King of the universe, we do not fundamentally accept the validity of one person ruling another. Practically, of course, a governmental system is necessary, and thus the Torah allowed (or perhaps even required) Benei Yisrael to set up a monarchy. But even in so doing, the Torah foresaw the time when the people would express the desire to establish a monarchy “like all the nations around me” (Devarim 17:14). Kingship, even though it is a necessity, is not “natural” for Benei Yisrael. It is a foreign import, if you will, that had to be brought in from the surrounding nations, and from Moav, in the form of Rut.

Rav Amital explains in this vein the famous comment in the Midrash (Yalkut Shimoni 41) that King David was supposed to die shortly after his birth, but Adam “donated” seventy years of his life to David. The idea expressed in this Midrash is that the Israelite monarchy has no “right” to exist on its own, and requires outside intervention, so-to-speak, to bring it into existence and sustain it.

And this might also explain the unusual and problematic circumstances that gave rise to the Davidic dynasty. The Jewish monarchy, Rav Amital explained, cannot occur naturally, because it is not natural. Its origins are shadowy because it itself is fraught with complexities. As we firmly believe that all human beings are servants of the one King, it is no simple matter to appoint a human monarch who would exert his authority over the rest of the nation. And thus even when the Jewish monarchy was produced, this processed occurred in a problematic, unusual and peculiar fashion, demonstrating just how unnatural and complex the notion of malkhut Yisrael is.

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Yosef in the Pit and Hannuka Candles at a High Height

Tranquility vs. Challenge

Yosef's Dreams - Lack of Tact

Yosef's Misplaced Confidence

Reuven's (Midrashic) Dream Interpretation

Yosef's Confused Priorities

Yehuda, Yaakov, and Sons

דברי הצומות וזעקתם

Amos: Silencing the Prophets

Rav Amital on the Unnatural Jewish Monarchy

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