Reuven's Misguided Mistakes

     We read in Parashat Vayeshev of Reuven’s limitedly successful attempt to rescue his brother, Yosef, as the other brothers conspired to kill him.  Reuven managed to convince his brothers to cast Yosef into a pit and let him die of starvation, rather than to kill him directly.  His plan was to then lift Yosef from the pit later.  Afterward, however, Yosef was lifted from the pit and sold as a slave (either by the brothers, or, according to the Rashbam, by Midyanite merchants who had passed by unbeknownst to the brothers).  When Reuven returned to the pit to rescue Yosef, he found that Yosef was not there, and he naturally assumed that his brother had died.  He exclaimed, “The boy is gone, and I – where can I go?” (37:30).

 

            The Midrash Lekach Tov explains Reuven’s lament as a reference to the sin he had committed with Bilha, as we read in Parashat Vayishlach (35:22).  Reuven thought that his efforts to rescue Yosef would serve as atonement for his sin with Bilha, but now that his efforts have failed, the stain of that misdeed remained on his record.

 

            The obvious question arises, what connection might there be between these two incidents – Reuven’s sin with Bilha and his rescue of Yosef?  Why did Reuven hope to rectify the mistake he had made by intervening to save Yosef?

 

            Chazal (as cited by Rashi to 35:22) famously explain the incident of Reuven and Bilha as Reuven’s misguided attempt to defend the honor of his mother, Leah.  After Rachel’s death, the Sages teach, Yaakov moved his bed into the tent of Bilha, Rachel’s maidservant whom he had married, indicating that she would now become Yaakov’s primary wife.  Reuven saw this move as a grave insult to his mother, Leah, and, as firstborn, felt it was his responsibility to defend his mother’s honor and protest his father’s decision.  He erred, of course, in overstepping his bounds, and the bounds of propriety, by intervening in his father’s intimate affairs.

 

            As Reuven heard his brothers plotting Yosef’s murder, he found himself in a situation that indeed called for strong leadership, and warranted bold action and intervention.  Once again, he observed what he deemed a gravely egregious decision being made, and as firstborn, it was his duty to step in and protest.  Indeed, the Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 84:15), as Rashi cites, explains that Reuven intervened to rescue Yosef because he anticipated being blamed for the tragedy once the brothers recognize their mistake.  Reuven erred in the incident with Bilha by acting in an inappropriately bold fashion, and as Yosef approached the brothers in Dotan, Reuven knew that bold action was precisely what was demanded of him.  He thus saw this occasion as the opportunity to rectify his failure with Bilha by displaying responsible leadership and intervening.  Whereas with Bilha he intervened when intervention was unwarranted, here he would intervene when such intervention was necessary.

 

            This explains Reuven’s anguish upon discovering that his plan had failed, that Yosef was not in the pit.  He had hoped to rectify his sin with Biha, but in the end, his actions only magnified that sin.  In the incident with Bilha, Reuven acted too boldly; in the incident with Yosef, he did not act boldly enough.  Rather than appearing to play along with his brothers’ scheme and then secretly rescuing Yosef, Reuven should have had the courage to explicitly protest and thwart the brothers’ murderous plot.  He did not display the strength and courage that was necessary to do what was needed to prevent an act of fratricide.  And thus when humble deference was warranted, Reuven inappropriately intervened and moved his father’s bed; but when bold, courageous action was necessary, he made a feeble effort.  He had sought to rectify his sin with Bilha, but in the end, he made it appear even more grievous.

 

Volver al capítulo

The Irony of Yosef's Success

    The Torah in Parashat Vayeshev describes Yosef’s travails after being sold as a slave and brought to Egypt.  Somewhat surprisingly, the Torah in this context uses the uncommon word “matzli’ach” (“successful”) no fewer than three times: “The Lord was with Yosef, and he was a successful man, while he was in his Egyptian master’s home” (39:2); “His master saw that the Lord was with him and that the Lord made him successful in everything he did” (39:3); “the Lord made everything he did successful” (39:23).

 

            It is hard to overlook the glaring irony in the Torah’s emphasis on “success” in this context.  Yosef is described as “matzli’ach” while working as a slave under Potifar, and then again while he languished in an Egyptian dungeon after being sentenced on false charges.  After living for seventeen years as the preferred child and presumed heir of a loving and doting father, Yosef now finds himself working as a slave in a foreign land without any rights, family, or realistic hopes for a bright future.  And then after remaining true to his principles in the face of temptation he is falsely charged and imprisoned.  Yet he, of all people, is described under these circumstances as an “ish matzli’ach” – a successful person.

 

            Unfortunately, we are conditioned to define “success” in absolute, objective terms, and on the basis of accomplishments such as material prosperity, power and prestige.  From the story of Yosef, the “ish matzli’ach,” we may learn the true meaning of “success,” and that is making the very most of any situation in which we find ourselves.  Even after being thrown into a dungeon, Yosef was determined to be accomplished and successful, and soon the chief warden appointed him as overseer over his fellow inmates.  (Significantly, this appointment is what led to his ultimate release from prison and rise to greatness, as in his capacity as overseer he checked up on the butler and baker and inquired why they appeared distressed.)  Rather than bemoan his fate and wallow in anguish and self-pity, Yosef made the conscious decision to do everything he could under the harsh circumstances to which he was thrust.

 

            The success of our peers or figures portrayed in the media does not necessarily present an accurate model of success for us to follow.  Success is subjective and personal, and is determined by each individual’s capabilities and unique circumstances.  Our most inspiring model of hatzlacha is Yosef, who achieved to the very best of his ability in every circumstance, which is precisely the kind of “success” we should all be striving toward.

           

(Based on a sermon by Rabbi Abraham Kelman)

Volver al capítulo

The Brothers - Conspiring or Casting Allegations?

   The Torah tells in Parashat Vayeshev that when Yosef approached his brothers in Dotan, they saw him and immediately “va-yitnakelu oto la-hamito” (37:18).  This phrase is commonly translated as, “they conspired against him to kill him,” or “they plotted against him…”  Seforno, however, contends that the verb “n.k.l..” means not to plot or conspire, but rather to cast allegations.  He explains that as Yosef approached to do his father’s bidding of checking if the brothers were well (“lekh na re’ei at shelom achekha” – 37:14), the brothers jumped to the conclusion that he was coming to spy on them, to find something wrong in their behavior which he could then report to Yaakov.  According to Seforno, “va-yitnakelu oto la-hamito” means that the brothers attributed to Yosef the intent to find a basis for discrediting them and ultimately “killing” them (“la-hamito”).

 

            Netziv, in Ha’amek Davar, embraces Seforno’s interpretation, but notes the difficult reading of the word “la-hamito” that Seforno was compelled to propose to accommodate his approach to the verse.  Netziv therefore suggests reading this phrase to mean that the brothers impugned Yosef’s motives to such an extent that they decided to kill him (“va-yitnakelu oto” to the point where they decided “la-hamito”).

 

            Seforno and Netziv’s reading of this verse adds an especially tragic dimension to this already tragic episode.   The unfortunate incident of mekhirat Yosef could have been avoided if the brothers would have waited just a few moments before conclusively determining the nature and purpose of Yosef’s unexpected visit.  Had they waited, they would have, in all likelihood, recognized that he had come for the sincere and innocent purpose of checking on their wellbeing as Yaakov had asked.  But instead, they made up their mind that Yosef had come to stoke the simmering coals of hostility and further his alleged campaign to discredit them.  This most tragic chapter would never have been written if the brothers would have exercised more patience before deciding what was going on in Yosef’s mind.

 

            So often, the cause of hatred is not differences of opinion, or even gravely misguided words and actions, but rather the unfounded assumptions that quarreling parties make about one another.  The mistake of “va-yitnakelu” – of unnecessarily impugning the sincerity or innocence of others – has caused the tragic breakdown of many relationships since mekhirat Yosef.  We must learn from this sorrowful episode to avoid reaching hasty conclusions about the motives of those who disagree with us, or those who acted or spoke in a manner we find distasteful.  It’s not necessarily personal or intended as an insult.  Sometimes – perhaps even most of the time – the other party is actually sincere, or made an innocent mistake, or even a not-so-innocent mistake that he or she will later regret.  The lesson we are to learn from mekhirat Yosef, at least according to Seforno and Netziv, is the vital importance of patience and an open mind in dealing with other people, and of avoiding rash assumptions about other people’s thoughts and motives.

Volver al capítulo

Yosef Sold into Slavery: Stop and Smell the Spices

            We read in Parashat Vayeshev the story of mekhirat Yosef, how Yosef was sold as a slave to a group of Yishmaelite merchants who were traveling from Trans-Jordan to Egypt.  The Torah, curiously, specifies the goods that these merchants were transporting, identifying three different kinds of spices (nekhottzari and lot).  Rashi, citing the Midrash (Bereishit Rabba, 84:17), offers a reason for why the Torah found this information worthy of mention: “This teaches the reward given to the righteous, for it was customary among the Arabians to transport only naphtha and resin, which have a foul odor, but it was arranged in the heavens that this person [Yosef] would not be harmed by a foul odor.”  According to the Midrash, the Torah makes a point of noting the fragrant spices that the Yishmaelite merchants transported because God specifically saw to it that Yosef would enjoy a pleasant fragrance during his trip to Egypt, rather than be exposed to a putrid odor.

 

            Chazal here convey the vitally important message of appreciating the seemingly small blessings in life.  The pleasant fragrance that accompanied Yosef as he was carried in chains to Egypt did little, if anything, to ease his pain and fears as his life had just fallen apart.  Nevertheless, Chazal found it significant that he was carried to Egypt along with fragrant spices.  Even amidst the horrible tragedy of being sold as a slave to a foreign country, there was something for which Yosef could feel grateful; there was at least one small blessing in his life which had otherwise became accursed.

 

            Very few people have to endure the kind of hardships and torment to which Yosef was subjected, but all of us go through difficult periods of one kind or another.  Chazal here urge us not to overlook the “fragrant spices” that we enjoy even during life’s darker moments.  When it seems as though life has turned sour, we must stop to “smell” the “fragrance,” to identify and appreciate the pleasant aspects of life.  Just as Yosef was able to enjoy the scent of spices as he was taken into slavery, we, too, must try to enjoy and feel grateful for the small and not-so-small blessings in our lives even when difficulties arise.

Volver al capítulo

Yosef and Potifar's Wife: Speaking for Himself

    We read in Parashat Vayeshev of Yosef’s response to Potifar’s wife who attempted to lure him into an intimate adulterous relationship.  Yosef explained to her that he could not betray his master, Potifar, in this fashion, and concludes, “How can I commit this great evil, and I will have sinned against God” (39:9).

 

            A number of writers have noted that Yosef here speaks only of the sin that he would commit by sleeping with Potifar’s wife, without mentioning the fact that she, too, would obviously be committing an offense.  Yosef asks, “How can I commit this great evil,” rather than, “How can we commit this great evil.”  He observes how he would be betraying Potifar by sleeping with his wife, without noting that she would likewise be betraying him.  The simplest explanation for this, it would seem, is that as the servant in the household Yosef knew he had to speak respectfully to Potifar’s wife and not question or criticize her decisions.  It was certainly not his place to teach Potifar’s wife morality.  Another possibility (suggested byRav Shlomo Amar) is that Yosef was, in fact, subtly hinting to Potifar’s wife that she was acting immorally. When he said, “There is no one greater in this home than me…so how can I commit this great evil,” he wanted Potifar’s wife to understand that her stature in the home exceeded his and she bore greater obligations to Potifar than he did.  And thus this was Yosef’s way of trying to convince her to desist.

 

            Rav Simcha Bunim of Pashischa (Kol Simcha), however, finds deeper significance in Yosef’s formulation.  He explains that Yosef saw himself separate and distinct from Potifar’s wife, so much so that he could not even bring himself to speak of them as “we.”  He was emotionally so distant from he that could not speak of “them” as committing a sin together, which might have some subtle connotation of some sort of equivalence between them.  Saying, “We would be sinning” would imply that their moral failures would bear some resemblance to one another.  In Yosef’s mind, he stood fundamentally apart from Potifar’s wife in terms of moral conscience, and thus he could not even speak of them failing together.

 

            Underlying Rav Simcha Bunim’s comments is the notion that Yosef determined to follow his own standards, and not those of the people around him.  There is a natural tendency to reach moral decisions based on our surroundings, on the accepted standards and norms of the people with whom we associate.  Yosef, however, remained resolute in his adherence to his family’s standards even while living in Potifar’s home.  He did not define “sin” the way Potifar’s wife defined “sin.”  His conception of morality, of right and wrong, bore no resemblance to that of the people among whom he lived.  He understood that he must conduct himself on an entirely different plane of morals and values.  We learn from Yosef that we must follow our own standards without being influenced by the standards and values of the society around us.  It does not suffice to be moral and ethical in the relative sense, as compared to those among whom we live.  We must adhere to the standards dictated by the Torah, and this must be our sole yardstick in distinguishing between right and wrong.

Volver al capítulo

Reuven's Guilt About Yosef

  The Torah in Parashat Vayeshev tells the famous and tragic story of mekhirat Yosef, how Yosef’s brothers plotted to kill him and then decided to sell him as a slave.  We read that Reuven intervened to save Yosef after the brothers initially decided to kill him, recommending that instead of killing Yosef directly, the brothers should instead throw him into a pit and allow him to die there.  Reuven’s intent was to later return and lift Yosef out of the pit to safety.  But in the interim, Yosef was lifted from the pit and sold as a slave, and when Reuven went to the pit, he found it was empty.  He said to his brothers, “Ani ana ani va” (37:30), which Rashi explains to mean, “Where can I escape?”  Reuven knew that he – and his brothers – would now have to watch their father wallow in agony over his lost son, and expressed his anguish on now being compelled to witness his father’s pain.

            Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch disagrees with this interpretation, noting that this pain of witnessing Yaakov’s grief would be experienced by all the brothers, and not just Reuven.  Moreover, the word “ba” means “come,” as opposed to “go,” and thus Reuven here cannot be saying, “Where can I escape” but rather, “Where can I come to myself,” or, in Rav Hirsch’s words, “I can find no place where I can rest quietly.”  In short, Reuven experienced severe pangs of conscience.  He felt he would never again be able to live at ease, knowing that he failed in his attempt to rescue Yosef.  Reuven began the process, but he did not complete it, and this failure, he figured, would never allow him any peace of mind.

            Rav Hirsch proceeds to explain the particular reason for Reuven’s pangs of guilt:

Why should just he [Reuven] have felt like that?  Possibly quite simply because he felt himself to blame for not having more energetically acted to oppose and prevent what had happened.  He had started the mitzva and had then left it.  But what was behind this lack of energy, he was, after all, the eldest brother?  Perhaps because he was not really completely free from fault himself, and his conscience now smote and depressed him.  The consciousness that in his innermost heart he had really had slight leanings in agreement with his brothers, he felt had prevented his standing up more strongly and energetically against their plans.

Reuven was overcome by guilt because he detected the true reason why he failed to rescue Yosef.  He shared his brothers’ resentment toward Yosef, and these feelings prevented him from committing himself wholeheartedly to rescuing him.  He mustered enough moral courage to suggest that Yosef be thrown into the pit, but if he was truly and wholly devoted to rescuing Yosef, he would have done it right.  He would not have allowed the circumstances to unfold as they did.

            While we must all recognize our limits and ensure not to have unreasonable expectations of ourselves, at the same time, we must also avoid the tendency to ease our consciences with shallow excuses.  Sometimes we do not succeed because the task was beyond our reach, but other times we do not succeed because we were not sufficiently invested in the effort.  When something is important to us and atop our priority list, we give it a great deal of attention and invest a great deal of energy to ensure our success.  We, like Reuven, must carefully assess whether we are truly investing all we can in the truly important areas of our lives, or if we use the excuse of “I can’t” to absolve ourselves of responsibility.

 

Volver al capítulo
Hebrew
Hebrew
Hebrew
Hebrew

Pages

x

Lee el Tanaj cómodamente. ¡Instala nuestra App en tu pantalla de inicio!

📲 Instala nuestra App

Toca el botón de Compartir (el icono de un cuadrado con una flecha hacia arriba) en la barra de Safari, desliza hacia abajo y selecciona 'Agregar a la pantalla de inicio'.