January 5, 2013

Sh’mot, Exodus 1:1–6:1

Holding Out for a Hero?

Marci N. Bellows

If the Book of Exodus were a rock opera (and don’t we all wish it were?), it might just start with the Israelite slaves joining together singing the words that Bonnie Tyler made so famous in the 1980s:

Where have all the good men gone and where are all the gods?
Where’s the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds?
Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed?
Late at night I toss and I turn and I dream of what I need.

I need a hero, I'm holding out for a hero ’til the end of the night
He’s gotta be strong and he’s gotta be fast
And he’s gotta be fresh from the fight . . .
(“Holding Out for a Hero,” Jim Steinman and Dean Pitchford)

As I snap out of my musical theater moment, I am struck by how much of the Exodus story, especially in terms of how we traditionally teach and conceptualize it, is a story about passive Israelites who collectively “hold out for a hero.” We learn how they work endlessly, toiling and suffering in the desert sun, satisfying the cruel demands of a Pharaoh “who did not know Joseph” (Exodus 1:8). At first glance, there are few instances of action or heroism until Moses grows into adulthood and learns of his fate to be the redeemer of the Jewish people.

However, a closer reading of the text itself allows us to celebrate a number of important acts of resistance, bravery, and compassion. Even more interestingly, each one is performed by a woman.

Following the Pharaoh’s pronouncement that all sons born to Israelite women were to be killed immediately, we quickly hear about the courageous rebellion of two midwives, Shiphrah and Puah. The midwives did not follow Pharaoh’s command and, instead, saved each baby boy. When questioned by their king they shrugged off his concern, essentially answering that the Hebrew women gave birth much too quickly for them to attend to the mothers (Exodus 1:15–19).

Unfortunately, the text does not reveal much about these two women; in fact, there is some disagreement about who they might have been. “It is unclear from the wording of the Hebrew whether they are Hebrew women who work as midwives, or Egyptian midwives who serve the Hebrews ... Alternatively, it is possible that the narrator is here mentioning the names of the overseers of two guilds of midwives—or the names of the guilds themselves. Either way, it is significant that while the pharaoh’s name is not mentioned, the names of these two women are preserved” (The Torah: A Women’s Commentary).1 Despite this lack of information, the Torah text still highlights Shiphrah and Puah’s life-saving actions and the role they play in allowing Moses to survive his birth.

Against this backdrop we meet Jochebed and Amram,2 who are already parents of two young children (Aaron and Miriam) and are now giving birth to a third child. One might ask, if the Israelites knew that such a terrible decree had been made, why would they continue having children? Well, the Rabbis asked this question as well. Here’s where one of our greatest heroines, Miriam, enters the stage. The Rabbis believed that Amram was a great scholar of his time, and thus, when he heard Pharaoh’s plan to kill all baby boys, he divorced his wife, ensuring that no more children would be born to them. All the other families soon followed.


Continue reading.

December 29, 2012

Va-y’chi, Genesis 47:28–50:26

The End of Genesis...But Only the Beginning of Our People's Story

Bruce Kadden

This Shabbat, we conclude the Book of Genesis with Parashat Va-y’chi. Whenever we finish reading a book, even a book of Torah, it is important to reflect on where we have been, what we have covered since the beginning of the book. Over the past twelve weeks, we have made our way through Genesis, beginning with Creation and the mythological stories that attempt to explain how the world as we know it came to be.

Then, we began the story of our people, with God's call to Abram to leave his home and go to a land that God would show him (Genesis 12:1). In return, God promised "I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you; I will make your name great, and it shall be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and I will pronounce doom on those who curse you; through you all the families of the earth shall be blessed" (12:2–3).

The rest of the Book of Genesis tells the story of Abraham (as he was renamed) and his family, the challenges that they faced, and their faithfulness despite adversity. We follow this family from generation to generation, as the covenant is passed first to Isaac and then to Jacob, each facing and overcoming their own challenges.

Finally, the story of this "first family of Judaism" is concluded in Va-y’chi, with the death first of Jacob and then of Joseph. Before he dies, Jacob blesses Joseph's sons Ephraim and Manasseh, and then offers a blessing to each of his own sons. But while this narrative closes one chapter in the story of our people, at the same time, it begins another, looking forward to the next stage of the journey.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, Chief Rabbi of Great Britain, in commenting on this portion, notes that Genesis, like the Tanach as a whole, "is a story without an ending which looks forward to an open future rather than reaching closure" (Covenant & Conversation: A Weekly Reading of the Jewish Bible, Genesis: The Book of Beginnings, New Milford, CT: Maggid Books and The Orthodox Union, 2009, p. 350). Although the loose ends of this particular part of the story are neatly tied up, we know we are not at the end of the story, but only at its beginning.

Indeed, throughout Genesis there has been a tension between the past and the future, between what was and what is yet to be. The covenant that God makes with Abraham serves to direct our attention toward the future. But, we also learn early on (Genesis 15:13) that this future will include being "strangers in a land not theirs" and being "enslaved and afflicted for four hundred years."

Continue reading.

December 22, 2012

Vayigash, Genesis 44:18–47:27

"Is My Father [Really] Alive?": More than a Rhetorical Question

Bruce Kadden

Are there any more moving words in the entire Torah than the question Joseph asks immediately upon revealing his identity to his brothers: "Is my father [really] alive?" (Genesis 45:3). After many years of denying his identity, hiding his identity, and trying to forget his past, he cannot contain himself any longer. He clears the room of everyone except his brothers. "He gave voice to a loud wail, and the Egyptians heard—Pharaoh's palace heard!" (45:2).

At first glance, it might seem that Joseph asks a rhetorical question. Hadn't his brothers spoken of his father all along? But upon further reflection it is more than a rhetorical question. First of all, it is possible that Jacob had died since the brothers first encountered Joseph in Egypt, in spite of their references to him. After all, Joseph might have reasoned, I have fooled them by hiding my identity; they think that I am dead. Perhaps they have figured out who I am and they are hiding from me the fact that our father has died.

In fact, the reason Joseph has waited so long to reveal his identity to his brothers might be because he is not sure how his relationship with his brothers will be affected by his father's presence. Ramban expresses surprise that Joseph never attempts to contact his father and his family. But the text clearly indicates that Joseph wants to forget his past. Recall that he named his firstborn Manasseh "For God has made me forget all the troubles I endured in my father's house" (41:51).

Although Joseph never explicitly condemns his father, it is hard to imagine that he does not have resentment toward him for allowing his brothers to treat him as they did. After all, it was his father who sent him to see how his brothers were doing as they pastured the flocks at Shechem (37:13–14). And this is despite the fact that Jacob knew Joseph was inclined to bring him bad reports about his brothers (37:2).

The more Joseph had the opportunity to reflect on the chain of events that led him to be sold and taken down to Egypt, the more he must have grown to resent the role that his father played in the story. The one person who should have protected him from his brothers’ resentment ended up sending him to them, far away from home, where they were able to take out their frustrations on him.

This resentment explains why Joseph did not attempt to contact his father when he had the opportunity to do so after rising to power in Egypt. When his brothers suddenly appear on the scene, he is faced with the need to come to terms with his past. He puts this off by developing an elaborate test to determine if his brothers will abandon Benjamin, as they abandoned him, or if they have changed.

But while the focus of the text is on the brothers and how they deal with the test that Joseph has designed, behind the scenes Joseph is trying to work out his estrangement with their father. In his first encounter with his brothers in Egypt (42:6–26), their father is barely mentioned. The brothers identify themselves as "sons of the same man" (42:11) and "sons of a man in the land of Canaan" (42:13) before explaining that the youngest brother "is with our father right now" (42:13). This is the only direct reference to their father in the entire conversation.

However, when his brothers return to Egypt, Joseph questions them, "How is your aged father of whom you spoke? Is he still alive?" Joseph appears ready to begin dealing with the reality of his father being alive. Yet, Joseph immediately turns his attention to his full-brother Benjamin, perhaps indicating that he is not completely ready to come to terms with his father.

Contrast this to the beginning of this week's portion, where Judah passionately pleads with Joseph to allow him (Judah) to remain in Joseph's custody in place of Benjamin. In the last seventeen verses of chapter 44, Judah uses the word “father” no fewer than thirteen times! It is reasonable to conclude that hearing these constant references to his father finally convinced an emotionally overwhelmed Joseph that it was time to reveal his identity to his brothers.

Continue reading.

December 15, 2012

Mikeitz, Genesis 41:1–44:17

The Power of Names and Naming

Bruce Kadden
Elie Wiesel has written, “In Jewish history, a name has its own history and its own memory. It connects beings with their origins. To retrace its path is then to embark on an adventure in which the destiny of a single word becomes one with that of a community; it is to undertake a passionate and enriching quest for all those who may live in your name.”

From the story of the Creation through the rest of Genesis, the giving of names has been a significant part of the biblical narrative. After creating the wild animals and birds, God “brought the man to see what he would call each one; and whatever the man called it, that became the creature’s name” (Genesis 2:19).

In this week’s portion, Mikeitz, Joseph moves from being falsely imprisoned to becoming second in command in Egypt due to his ability to interpret dreams. As Joseph settles into his new life, he is given a new name by Pharaoh: Zaphenath-paneah, which is “Egyptian for ‘God speaks; He lives’ or ‘Creator of life.’ " This name signifies not only that Joseph is now fully part of Egyptian society, but also that his special gift that has allowed him to succeed is the ability to speak for God.

Pharaoh also gives Joseph “Asenath daughter of Potiphera priest of On as a wife” (Genesis 41:45) and they soon become parents of two boys. “Joseph named the first-born son Manasseh [Hebrew, Menasheh], ‘For God has made me forget all the troubles I endured in my father’s house.’ And he named the second one Ephraim, ‘For God has made me fruitful in the land of my affliction’ ” (Genesis 41:51–52). These explanations may or may not accurately reflect the actual linguistic derivation of the names, but they do reflect the biblical author’s understanding of the meaning of the name in relationship to the narrative.

Joseph’s sons were born during the seven years of plenty, before the years of famine hit Egypt. As Avivah Gottlieb Zornberg observes, “In the names he gives his sons, he tenders an account of his life-drama, as he perceives it at this moment of its course, when his own fertility mirrors the general prosperity.”

The names that Joseph chooses for his sons reflect Joseph’s attitude toward his past adversity and his present good fortunes. Again, Zornberg states it well: “nowhere does Joseph reveal as nakedly as in these names his own feeling about the strange vicissitudes of his life. Nowhere does he comment so openly on its bitterness and its sweetness as in these namings that encode his sense of God’s dealings with him” (p. 285).

But what do the names really say about Joseph at this point in his life? With the birth of Manasseh, Joseph seems to be ready to move on with his life, to look forward to the future, rather than the past. Until this moment in the story, we don’t know what Joseph is thinking about his past. His statement confirms that with his new Egyptian identity he is ready to move on with his life.

Having recently interpreted the dreams of Pharaoh, in addition to those of Pharaoh’s chief cupbearer and chief baker, Joseph must have recalled his own dreams that appeared to have indicated that at some point his family will serve him. Recognizing his ability to discern God’s interpretation of the dreams of others, Joseph had to have at least thought about his own dreams and how they too might be realized.

Nevertheless, in naming his firstborn, Joseph seems to want to have nothing to do with his past. “The dangers of obsession with the past are very real for Joseph; they have the power to cripple him in the essential task he has undertaken” (Zornberg, p. 286).
Ironically, in choosing the name Manasseh, Joseph assures that every time he mentions the name he would be reminded of wanting to forget his past! Of course, no sooner has Joseph made his declaration about forgetting the troubles that he endured in his father’s house, then who shows up but his very brothers who were the cause of most of those troubles! Try as he might to forget his past, he is forced to confront it when they arrive in Egypt in search of food.

With the birth of his second son, Ephraim, Joseph chooses a name that affirms both the challenges and the blessings he has experienced in his new home, Egypt. On the one hand, he was falsely accused of attacking Potiphar’s wife and ended up in prison. On the other hand, his ability to interpret dreams has allowed him to become a powerful official who is now further blessed with two sons.

Continue reading.

December 8, 2012

Vayeishev, Genesis 37:1–40:23

From the Coat of Many Colors to a Simple Garment:
The Unmaking of Joseph

Bruce Kadden

It is said that clothes make the man. But in this week’s portion, Vayeishev, they have a great deal to do with the unmaking of Joseph. Two garments, the coat of many colors and the undistinguished garment Potiphar’s wife strips off of him, end up contributing to his trials, each being a catalyst for his descent to Egypt and to prison, respectively.

The first garment that gets Joseph into trouble is the coat of many colors, which his father made for him. The text says, “When his brothers saw that he was the one their father loved, more than any of his brothers, they hated him and could not bear to speak peaceably to him” (Genesis 37:4).

Did Joseph flaunt his special gift in front of them? Or was it simply the fact that their father showed favoritism to him with a beautiful present that so upsets them? It is obviously a very special garment; the term is used only one other time in Scripture, referring to the garment worn by King David’s daughter, Tamar, likely indicating her royal status (II Kings, 13:18). We can assume at the very least that Joseph wore it with pride and perhaps a bit of smugness at being singled out for this special gift.

In any case, when Joseph later approaches his brothers as they tend to their father’s sheep, they plot to kill him. Only Reuben’s intervention saves Joseph’s life. The brothers strip Joseph of his coat and throw him into a pit and then sell him to a caravan of Ishmaelites. Then they take Joseph’s coat, dip it into blood from a goat they had slaughtered, and bring it to their father.

Not wanting to lie to their father, the brothers ask “We found this; do you recognize it? Is it your son’s coat?” (Genesis 37:32). Avivah Gottleib Zornberg, in analyzing this story observes: “In thrusting Joseph’s coat, torn and bloodied, at Jacob, and in saying, ‘Please recognize it; is it your son’s tunic or not?’—they in fact feed him the words with which he interprets its meaning: ‘He recognized it, and said, “My son’s tunic! A savage beast devoured him! Joseph is torn in pieces!” ’ ” (Genesis 37:32–33, cited in Genesis: The Beginning of Desire [Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society, 1995], p. 266). Jacob then immediately tears his clothes as a sign of mourning, which ironically mimics the tearing of the coat off of his son.

Zornberg sees a deeper meaning in Jacob’s words, which “express the brothers’ deep intent. The poignancy of the moment lies not in deception, but in the accurate, if unconscious, decoding of the symbolism of the coat. What the brothers had wanted to do to Joseph—indeed, what they had done to him—is truly articulated by their father.

“In a sense, the coat is Joseph. His brothers strip it from him as they fall on him, and before they cast him into the pit” (Zornberg, p. 266).

Continue reading.