[This commentary on Vayeishev (Genesis 37:1−40:23), written by Rabbi Lawrence Kushner, appeared on the URJ Torah website.]
Parashat Vayeishev is always read on, or near, the beginning of Chanukah. Indeed, Jewish tradition frequently employs this week’s story of Joseph’s harrowing descent into Egypt as a refractive lens through which we might understand the Festival of Lights and its celebration of our people’s triumph over the seductions of an alien culture.
The metaphor does not require much imagination. At the time of the Joseph novella (Genesis 37−50), the Land of Israel, then home to all seventy Jews in the entire world is, well, Israel—literally the only Jewish place there is. And the land of Egypt, where Joseph is sent, presumably into oblivion, is, well, Egypt—the paradigm land of slavery and exile. One Jew alone in the land of the Pharaohs.
It would be difficult to find a Jew more thoroughly assimilated into his local culture than Joseph. According to the midrash, Joseph was a dandy; he curled his hair and, as was the Egyptian custom, even wore mascara (although it is safe to say he did not wear a yarmulke.) Indeed, Moses may have led us into freedom, but Joseph led us into slavery.
To all outward appearances Joseph completely accepts Egyptian society and custom—dress, language, mores, manners, spouse, profession—and yet somehow, despite it all, he manages to remain a Yid. The Chasidic master, Rabbi Yehudah Aryeh Leib Alter of Ger (d. 1905), in his Sefat Emet— with characteristically dazzling creativity—explores this ancient (and modern) galut (exile) disjunction between our outward appearance and our inner identities.
The five volumes of Sefat Emet (one for each book of the Torah) are easily among the greatest texts of Jewish spirituality ever composed. Dr. Arthur Green, in his excellent English abridgement, The Language of Truth: The Torah Commentary of the Sefat Emet, Rabbi Yehudah Leib Alter of Ger (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1998), translates Sefat Emet as “The Language of Truth”; more colloquially, it might mean something like “Straight Talk.”
In one homily on Vayeishev , dated 1901, the Gerer Rebe (as he is known) draws on a discussion from Tractate, P’sachim 23a. There the Rabbis suggest that the verb “to be,” vay’hi (third person, masculine singular, future—“he will be”) prefixed with the vav conversive (reversing its tense to the past—“and he was”), connotes more than mere being. Not only, explain the Sages, does it simply mean “and he was,” it further connotes the notion of continuity or “ remaining in existence,” “being not susceptible to change.”
Indeed, notes the Sefat Emet, when our parashah says, for example, “Vay’hi / And he [Joseph] was. . . in the house of [Potiphar] his master” (Genesis 39:2) or, later on, “Vay’hi / And he [Joseph] was there [now] in the dungeon” (Genesis 39:20) and the like, we must understand this in light of Joseph’s inner steadfastness and strength. In the words of the Sefat Emet : Joseph did not change who he was in any of the many and radically different places in which he wound up. No matter where his astonishing journey took him, Joseph remained the same Joseph. And, when we read therefore that “Joseph was in Egypt,” it means that, even though he appeared to everyone (even his brothers!) as an Egyptian, nevertheless, on the inside Joseph remained who he was —a Jew, immune to the enticements of the local culture. (“Once you’ve been to gay Paree , it’s hard to go back down on the farm.”)
Many commentators have noted that clothing and the disguises it provides are dominant motifs of the story. From Joseph’s “coat of many colors,” to the clothing Mrs. Potiphar rips off him, to the outfit he is given when summoned from the dungeon to interpret Pharaoh’s dreams, Joseph, it seems, is always either disguised or busy looking like someone he is not. (We are reminded that, for all their braggadocio for not assimilating, even contemporary Chasidim do dress themselves like nineteenth-century Polish nobility.)
The operative question becomes therefore, not how do we appear, but can we manage to remain true to our innermost being? For us Reform Jews this is an especially disturbing, close-to-home question. Much of our liberal tradition was initially founded on assimilating into mainstream Western, and especially American, culture.
The original goal was to raise up a generation that could “pass” for American, to fashion a liturgy and worship experience that would also be comfortable for our Episcopalian neighbors, to be like everyone else. Indeed, our Reform forebears were so successful that now we have forgotten how to act and dress like Jews. Not only don’t we sing after meals, we have even forgotten the melodies. Not only do many no longer abide by the dietary laws, we have forgotten what they are. Not only do we dress like everyone else, we don’t know how to lay t’fillin or when to wear a tallit.
And that is precisely why, says the Sefat Emet, Joseph was the first one chosen to be sent down into Egypt to prepare the way for the rest of us to follow throughout all our subsequent dispersions, dislocations, and exiles. And just this is the principal test of exile: To withstand every attempt to change one’s essence of being a Jew.
For this reason, the Gerer Rebbe continues, every Jew needs to know and to believe that even when he or she might descend into Egypt or, for that matter, into the dungeon itself, it is not happenstance but all divine providence. We are on an errand of our Creator. And no matter where the Holy One wishes to send us, we must accept this mission. Indeed, says Aryeh Lieb of Ger, this is the primary test of exile: to remain true to one’s inner being despite the outward clothing we must wear to earn a living.
The danger is only when we look into the tailor’s mirror and believe that we are like everyone else.
Rabbi Lawrence Kushner is the Emanu-El Scholar at Congregation Emanu-El of San Francisco. He is the author of several books on Jewish spirituality including a new novel, Kabbalah: A Love Story ( New York: Morgan Road Books, 2006). Lawrence Kushner ©2006
1 comment:
The commentary says that the operative question becomes, not how do we appear, but can we manage to remain true to our innermost being?
I would like to pose a different question. Can you ever really tell a book by its cover? JOSEPH, LIKE MANY OF US TODAY, was placed in a position, more thanonce, where he had to appear a certain way to survive. Although deep inside his soul he remained true to our G-d.
To some people Or Ami and reform Judaism appear to be less Jewish but we at Or Ami know that this is not true. Communication is key to knowing the truth within. Don't ever judge a book by its cover.
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