Vayigash: To Save A Life

Rabbi Rifat Soncino writes To Save a Life about parashat Vayigash (Genesis 44:18−47:27).

In this week’s Torah portion, Vayigash , we have the dramatic self-disclosure of Joseph. In a remarkable scene, one of the greatest in biblical literature, Joseph, now an important official in the Egyptian administration, reassures his brothers that there is no need for them to be distressed because they had sold him to foreigners. It was, he added, God’s providential act that brought him to Egypt for a lifesaving purpose: "It was to save lives [ l’michyah ] that God sent me ahead of you" (Genesis 45:5).

In addition to some linguistic problems, this verse raises an important theological issue that needs to be probed. We should also ask, what can we learn from this text?

Terminology

First, we encounter the term michyah. It is a rare word, found only a few times in the Bible: twice in Judges (6:4, 17:10), twice in Ezra (9:8, 9:9), and once in II Chronicles ( 14:12). It also appears twice in Leviticus ( 13:10, 13:24). Basically it means "place of life" (from the root chayah ) and is usually translated as "sustenance" or "food." However, in Leviticus it means "raw flesh" ( michyat basar chai , translated as "a patch of undiscolored flesh" in W. Gunther Plaut, ed., The Torah: A Modern Commentary , rev. ed. [ New York: URJ Press, 2005], p. 737). Some scholars have suggested that l’michyah in Genesis 45 should be emended to m’chayeh , as in Adonai meimit um’chayeh , "The Eternal deals death and gives life" (cf. I Samuel 2:6). But there is no need to go to such an extreme. Given the other uses, whether early or late, the expression l’michyah can stand on its own and can be rendered as "for life preservation," "to save life," or "to preserve life," as in, "It was to save lives that God sent me ahead of you."

In our verse, Joseph does not identify whose life he is saving. Is it his father’s, the Egyptians’, those in his homeland? Joseph is more specific two verses down when he states, "God sent me ahead of you to assure your survival . . ." (Genesis 45:7). Now we know. Joseph was sent to Egypt to save his entire family.

The Extent of Our Free Will

Beyond the linguistic issue, the theological assumption behind the text raises difficulties for us. In the Joseph narrative, as in many other parts of the Bible, we see that the hand of God is present not only in miraculous interventions, but also in everyday life. The brothers may have had a certain scheme in mind regarding Joseph, but God has a different preordained plan for them. Joseph is only a tool in God’s hands; he is to become a lifesaver.

For us, this raises the question of free will: if God knows what we will do and, in fact, controls our actions, how can we be free and, therefore, responsible? The Bible does not deal with this issue systematically. On the one hand it states, "I set before you this day life and prosperity, death and adversity" (Deuteronomy 30:15), but on the other, it maintains that "many designs are in a man’s mind, but it is the Eternal’s plan that is accomplished" (Proverbs 19:21). This became a matter of great concern for the early Rabbis and Jewish philosophers later on.

Some recognized the dilemma but left it unsolved. For example, Rabbi Akiba taught: "All is foreseen, yet [free] choice is given" ( Pirkei Avot 3:15; trans. Leonard Kravitz and Kerry M. Olitzky, eds., Pirke Avot [New York: UAHC Press, 1993], p. 46). In medieval times some Jewish philosophers attempted to provide an answer. Chasdai Crescas (1340−1410), for example, argued that God has total foreknowledge and consequently humans are not free. On the other hand, Gersonides ( Levi ben Gershon, 1288−1344) maintained that we have some freedom because God has foresight only of things in general. In Guide for the Perplexed (2:48), Maimonides compromised by saying that everything has a cause, and therefore, God is ultimately responsible for our actions. So when we think we are doing something freely, we act without realizing the workings of divine providence, which are unknowable to the human mind. Maybe Maimonides is right. We do not understand fully how the world operates; we act with the assumption that we have some free will. In reality, we have much less control than we think we do.

The Message

What can we learn from our biblical text? For John Walton, a biblical commentator, the message is that God is able to bring some good out of evil (John H. Walton, The NIV Application Commentary [Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2001], p. 696). Etz Hayim: Torah and Commentary has an insightful comment about this verse: "God could not prevent the brothers from choosing to do something cruel. God’s role was to sustain Joseph and guide him to bring something good and life affirming out of the unfairness inflicted on him" ( Etz Hayim, ed. David L. Lieber [ Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 2001], p. 276).

For me the message of our text is this: Just as Joseph becomes a lifesaver, we too should become, in the elegant rendition of Speiser, "an instrument of survival" (Ephraim A. Speiser, Genesis , The Anchor Bible [New York: Random House, 1964], p. 336). We must continue to find a way to bring michyah to others through our care, compassion, and empathy.

Here, "to others" is as important as the word michyah. Regrettably, there are some societal forces today that keep us away from this concern. All too often, given the modern trend to turn inward, we forget our duties to others. By incorporating the teachings of popular Kabbalah in our daily life, by displaying a lukewarm passion for Israel, by packing our liturgy with prayers of personal piety, by downgrading our commitment to tikkun olam and to others, we have turned our spirituality into a narcissistic behavior that aims to benefit ourselves, rarely others. But remember, our text says, "It was to save lives [ l’michyah ] that God sent me ahead of you [ lifneichem ]."

May God give us the strength and courage to use our limited freedoms wisely and forcefully so as to become lifesavers, bringing sustenance, both physical and spiritual, to ourselves as well as to others.

Rabbi Rifat Sonsino, Ph.D., is rabbi emeritus of Temple Beth Shalom, in Needham, Massachusetts, and a member of the theology department at Boston College.