The opening verses of this week's Torah reading are among the most dramatic and challenging in the entire Torah. Two great, powerful personalities in the house of the children of Yaakov—Yehudah and Yosef—engage in a clash and debate of epic proportions over the release of their brother Binyamin.
At first glance it seems obvious that Yosef has the
upper hand in his struggle. After all, he is the viceroy of Egypt, the
commander of the palace guards who are armed and ready to do his bidding. In
contrast Yehudah has very limited options as to what to say and what to do in
order to obtain the release of Binyamin. Yosef’s position of power appears unassailable
but the impassioned plea of Yehudah cannot easily be ignored.
Since each of the two great antagonists, the leaders of the tribes of Israel, has the power to prevail over the other, perhaps we can conclude that neither is the victor in this clash of ideas and worldviews. The true champion who emerges from this story is the hoary old Yaakov. Seemingly isolated back in the land of Canaan, mourning and despondent as to the fate of his family, he shouts in anguish: “Yosef is no more, Shimon is no more; both of them will be lost to me!” It is this image of their father that haunts both Yehudah and Yosef. Each, in his own way, wishes to do justice to his father and to everything that he represents. And it is this selfsame image of Yaakov that brings Yosef to the climax of the story and to his ability, nay necessity, to reveal himself and be reconciled with his brothers.
Jewish rabbinic thought over the ages has always sought to
make the story of Yosef and Yehudah relevant to each generation of Jews. I
think that the most relevant message for us from this great narrative is that
it is the image of our ancient father Yaakov that truly hovers over all of our
current struggles. It is our tasknot merely to win the debate with our
other brothers or even with outside powers that are seemingly stronger and
greater than we are, but rather to remain faithful to the old man that we can
no longer see but who is always with us.
What gives both Yehudah and Yosef troubling pause in the
midst of their impassioned debate is their uncertainty as to what their father would
think of their words and their actions. It is this unseen presence of
Yaakov that drives the brothers to reconciliation and to restoring a common
purpose in their lives and those of their families. Father Yaakov has looked
down at every generation of the Jewish people and—one way or another—every generation
has been forced to ask itself “What would Yaakov think of us, our words and our
behavior?”
It is this ever-present idea in Jewish life that has been an
aid and a boon to our seemingly miraculous survival as a people and as a faith.
We may not see Yaakov but we can be certain that he is there with us today as
well.
Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein