Refusing to Give Up: Vayeshev 5786

 This piece by Rabbi Joel Kenigsberg was originally published in yesterday's Hanassi Highlights.

Parashat Vayeshev opens with a note of hope: Yaakov finally believed he had reached a point of calm after a lifetime of struggle. After wrestling with Esav, surviving Lavan, and enduring the trauma of Dinah, surely now he had earned a measure of peace.

But Chazal tell us otherwise: “Bikesh Yaakov leishev b’shalvah—kafatz alav rogzó shel Yosef.” Just when Yaakov longed for tranquillity, the anguish of Yosef’s disappearance fell upon him. Shattered by his sons’ report and the blood-stained coat they presented, Yaakov enters a prolonged and unrelenting mourning. His children rise to comfort him, yet the Torah records: “Vayema’en lehitnachem”—he refused to be comforted.

Why? Other great figures experience devastating loss yet eventually find strength to move forward. The Torah tells us explicitly how Avraham arose after grieving for Sarah. What made Yaakov’s grief different?

The Midrash, cited by Rashi, teaches that consolation is granted only when death is final. Since Yosef was still alive, Yaakov felt an inexplicable inability to accept comfort. But the Netivot Shalom adds a striking layer: Yaakov sensed that Yosef was alive—but what tormented him was not Yosef’s physical state. It was the fear that Yosef, alone in a foreign land, surrounded by moral darkness and spiritual danger, might lose himself. Would the Yosef who grew up in Yaakov’s home still exist? And so “vayema’en”—he refused to give up on his son. He prayed, he hoped, he believed.

That same rare word appears a second time in our parasha. When Yosef faces relentless temptation in Egypt, he too refuses (“vayema’en”). Rav Soloveitchik notes that this word is marked in the Torah with a shalshelet, a musical note shaped like a chain. Yosef remembered he was part of a chain—of his father, his people, his destiny. The Gemara tells us that in that moment he saw his father’s image. Remembering that Yaakov had never given up on him gave him the strength not to give up on himself.

This is the story of Jewish history. Through darkness, dispersion, persecution, and the pressures of modernity, we have refused – refused to surrender our identity, our mission and our faith. Because our ancestors believed in us, and because HaKadosh Baruch Hu believes in us still.

The candles that we light on Chanukah represent this stubborn refusal. The pirsum hanes of these special days is the fact that, no matter how strong the winds outside, those tiny flames will always endure.

Shabbat Shalom and Chanukah Same’ach, Rabbi Joel Kenigsberg

Human Error, Divine Purpose, and Yosef’s Mysterious Mission

An exploration of Parashat Vayeishev by Rabbi Paul Bloom.

Parashat Vayeishev opens with one of the most perplexing decisions in Sefer Bereishit: Yaakov sends Yosef—alone, on foot—on a dangerous journey from Chevron to Shechem. Even in our day, the area is known for its volatility; certainly, in the ancient world, such a trek carried great risk. Yet unlike Eliezer, who traveled with ten camels and a protective escort, Yosef receives no assistance, no animals, and no clear mission beyond the vague instruction:

“לֶךְ־נָא רְאֵה אֶת־שְׁלוֹם אַחֶיך”

“Go now, see how your brothers are faring…” (Bereishit 37:14)

What was Yaakov thinking? How could he send the son he loved most into such danger seemingly for nothing?

This decision becomes the opening movement in a parashah filled with human mistakes—misjudgments by Yaakov, Yosef, the brothers, and even Yehudah. And yet, beneath the surface of these errors, there lies an unmistakable divine orchestration guiding the Jewish people toward its destiny.

Chevron as a Code Word

The Torah states that Yaakov sent Yosef “מֵעֵמֶק חֶבְרוֹן”—“from the Valley of Chevron.” But, as Rashi notes, Chevron sits on a mountain, not in a valley. Chazal interpret this as a remez, a signal: Chevron here alludes to the deep, ancient prophecy rooted in the city—the Brit Bein HaBesarim, where Hashem declared:

גֵר יִהְיֶה זַרְעֲךָ ... וַעֲבָדוּם, וְעִנּוּ אֹתָם

“Your descendants will be strangers… they will be enslaved and oppressed.” (Bereishit 15:13)

Thus Yosef’s mission “from Chevron” is not simply geographic; it is prophetic. It is the moment the ancient decree of exile begins to unfold.

The Anonymous Man Who Finds Yosef

On the way, Yosef becomes lost: וַיִּמְצָאֵהוּ אִיש — “A man found him” (Bereishit 37:15).

The Torah’s phrasing is striking: not that Yosef found a man, but that a man found him. Chazal identify this ish as מלאך גבריאל. This seemingly incidental encounter becomes the fulcrum of Jewish history. Instead of giving up and returning home after failing to find his brothers in Shechem, Yosef is redirected by this heavenly messenger. The angel asks him: מַה־תְּבַקֵּש (“What do you seek?”) This is not merely a request for information. As the Malbim explains, bakashah in Hebrew refers not to a need but to an ultimate aspiration. This question is existential: “What do you truly seek in life? What is your mission?” Yosef answers with remarkable vulnerability and sincerity: אֶת אַחַי אָנֹכִי מְבַקֵּש (“I seek my brothers”, Bereishit 37:16).

Despite their hostility, despite the pain of being rejected, Yosef’s deepest yearning is for connection and unity. In this moment, we glimpse Yosef’s essence.

Human Error Filling the Parashah

Vayeishev is a tapestry of human mistakes:

Yaakov’s errors:

●      He displays open favoritism: וְיִשְׂרָאֵל אָהַב אֶת־יוֹסֵף מִכָּל־בָּנָיו (Bereishit 37:3)

●      He gives Yosef the כְּתֹנֶת פַּסִּים, a distinct garment marking him as different.

Yosef’s errors:

●      He recounts his dreams of dominance without sensitivity.

●      He seems unaware of how his behavior affects his brothers.

The brothers’ errors:

●      They misjudge Yosef’s intentions.

●      Jealousy blinds them to the bonds of brotherhood.

Yehudah’s errors:

●      His involvement in selling Yosef.

●      His misjudgment of Tamar, later admitted with the words צָדְקָה מִמֶּנִּי (Bereishit 38:26).

No other parashah contains such a concentration of missteps by so many central figures. Yet the Ramban reminds us, citing Mishlei 19:21:

רַבּוֹת מַחֲשָׁבוֹת בְּלֶב-אִישׁ וַעֲצַת יְהוָה, הִיא תָקוּם

"Man proposes many thoughts, but the counsel of Hashem is what prevails.”

Through flawed human decisions, Hashem guides the story toward its destined outcome: Yosef will descend to Egypt, rise to power, and prepare the way for the Jewish people’s survival.

“Saru Mizeh” — A Warning from the Angel

When Yosef asks where his brothers have gone, the angel replies: נָסְעוּ מִזֶּה (“They have traveled away from here”, Bereishit 37:17). Rashi interprets this as meaning סרו מן האחוה — They have turned away from brotherhood. The angel’s words carry a chilling double meaning: the physical direction and the spiritual rupture.

Yosef’s Moral Tests

Yosef faces two defining spiritual tests in this parashah:

1. The Test of Purpose —מַה־תְּבַקֵּש

He responds with his true mission: “I seek my brothers”.  His heart yearns for unity even when others push him away.

2. The Test of Temptation — Aishet Potiphar

Yosef refuses with the unforgettable words: וְאֵיךְ אֶעֱשֶׂה הָרָעָה הַגְּדוֹלָה הַזֹּאת וְחָטָאתִי לֵאלֹהִים
 (“How can I do this great evil and sin against God?”, Bereishit 39:9). He invokes both ethics (betraying Potiphar) and spirituality (sinning against Hashem). This dual consciousness is what earns him the title יוסף הצדיק.

The Larger Theme: Divine Providence in Human Error

Despite all the mistakes made by Yaakov, Yosef, the brothers, and Yehuda, the parasha demonstrates a profound theological truth:

●      Human beings make flawed decisions.

●      Our judgment is limited.

●      Our plans often go astray.

And yet—

Hashem’s hidden providence guides every step.

Missteps themselves become tools of redemption. Yosef’s sale leads to his rise in Egypt. Yehuda’s failure with Tamar leads to the birth of Peretz, the ancestor of King David.

The message is not that mistakes are unimportant, but that they can be transformed into instruments of divine purpose.

Conclusion: “Mah Tevakesh?” — The Question of Life

Parashat Vayeishev centers around a single, piercing question: מַה־תְּבַקֵּש— What do you seek? This is the question every human being must face.

Yosef’s answer —אֶת אַחַי אָנֹכִי מְבַקֵּש — reveals a soul striving for unity, purpose, and moral clarity.  Even in the midst of mistakes and misunderstandings, Yosef’s inner compass points true.

And so it is with us: We strive, we falter, we rise again — but beneath all human frailty, אֲצַת ה' הִיא תָקוּם — the plan of Hashem endures.

Topsy turvy

This week's parashah invites us to ask challenging questions as to why we sometimes appear to be rewarded for our misdeeds or punished for our good ones. Our member Rabbi Steven Ettinger investigates.

Viewed simplistically, our religion is binary: blessings are good, curses are bad. Mitzvot are good, sins are bad. Morality is good and immorality is bad. As Moshe reminds us time and time again throughout Sefer Devarim, we should choose life. The choice is obvious since the path is clear – it’s black and white.

Life however is full of grey tones and the Torah itself, at least as literally written, at times represents a confusing guide. Men who are the foundations of our faith are depicted in dubious or compromising situations. There is, at the very least, ambiguity regarding Reuven’s actions with Bilhah. Shimshon’s behavior put the nation at risk. Eli HaKohen’s sons’ treatment of women was less than exemplary. Both David and Shlomo faced Divine punishment because of their conduct with women.

There is no need to highlight other examples. Suffice it to say, passion and desire are powerful human emotions.  We cannot understand what Hashem expects from us, how to serve him or who we are without understanding these complex drives.

In Parashat Vayeshev we encounter two of the greatest figures in Jewish history facing what most would consider extremely compromising moral choices. For each, the outcome is different. The respective consequences are counterintuitive. Thus, in the micro, it is difficult to understand how to interpret the moral lesson, at least on the surface.

These are familiar narratives. Out of guilt for selling Yosef, Yehudah exiles himself, then marries and has children. As events unfold, his first two sons each marry the same woman, Tamar. They die childless, leaving a third younger son.  Yehudah sends her away to delay yibum. Years go by, she sees that she has been abandoned, so she decides to dress as a harlot to seduce Yehudah. She succeeds and gets pregnant.

Drama unfolds as she is accused of infidelity by Yehudah, who actually demands she be executed), but she is saved when he admits his culpability after she produces, among other things, the items he left with her as security for payment. In the end she gives birth to twins, one of which is the ancestor of the Davidic line (and hence the Mashiach). Bottom line, he knowingly interacts with a harlot and the result seems to be the greatest of rewards!

Simultaneously, Yosef begins servitude in Egypt. After a period of years facing harsh conditions, he rises to a position of responsibility in the home of an Egyptian nobleman. Unfortunately for him, the nobleman’s wife becomes interested in him. She repeatly attempts to seduce him numerous times, culminating in an incident where she manipulates events to make a very aggressive effort to entice him.  As he refuses and runs out, she grabs his garment and uses it as evidence of her claim that he attempted to sexually assault her. He is imprisoned for several years before he is released to interpret Pharoh’s dreams and as a result promoted to viceroy.

Yehudah succumbs to his baser nature and is enticed by a harlot. The consequence he faces is… a set of newborn twins, one of which is the progenitor of a royal dynasty and the ultimate redeemer.

Yosef is a Tzadik.  He endures suffering because time after time he resists temptation, ultimately at great peril—yet he pays a significant price. While, perhaps, there was a short-term benefit (he becomes viceroy of Egypt), effectively this benefited his father and brothers almost as much as it did him. Moreover, he certainly does not have the same historical importance (yes, there will be a Mashiach ben Yosef, but his role seems limited in function and is rather ambiguous).

Yehudah, the one who made the immoral choice (actually two, if you include the sale of Yosef) comes out the big winner. Where is the fairness?  What does this teach about morality? Topsy, turvy. V’nehafoch hu!

Perhaps the key to the answer is a word or concept that characterizes Yehudah more than any other. A quick word association with him would likely yield terms like: leader, majesty, spokesman, warrior, or (as his mother proclaimed) praise to Hashem. However, perhaps the most accurate word is “arev” or “eravon” – a guarantor or security. When someon

e defaults on a loan he received or on a loan he agreed to guarantee, when there is a default, then the borrower can collect from the security (eravon) given by the borrower or from the guarantor (arev).

When Yehudah negotiated with Tamar but did not have the fee (two goats) she asked for an “eravon” – and he inquired: “what is the ‘eravon’ I should give you?” (Gen 35:17-18). It was that very security that saved her when Yehudah was willing to admit that he acted immorally and accepted responsibility for his poor moral choice in engaging with her. Likewise, when confronting Yosef to plead for the release of Binyamin, his main argument—and the one that succeeded—was that he committed to Yaakov that he would be the arev for him (Gen. 44:32). Effectively, Yehudah was again accepting responsibility for his earlier immoral choice (in this instance, selling Yosef).

Yosef was good. Black and white. If he saw an iniquity, if he thought his brothers sinned, he would report it – even if they would hate him. Likewise, when faced with a seduction, he would not succumb, regardless of the consequence. This is certainly meritorious. But this is how he was hard-wired. He is a Tzadik.

However, life is grey.  For the rest of us (at least most of us) it is complex and confusing, Like Yehudah we fall, sometimes in extreme and calamitous ways. Knowing this, Yehudah is the paradigm for finding our way back to the path of morality and service of Hashem after we fail.  We are security for something precious. That might be for our family values (Yaakov for Yehudah), to our underlying sense of honor and responsibility (Yehudah’s need to fulfill his commitment – even in the face of shame), most certainly to the teachings of the Torah, to our neshamot and to the version of ourselves we strive to be.

Another word related to the root of Yehudah is to be modeh, to admit or acknowledge.  Yehudah was able to look inward and acknowledge his actions and to take responsibility.  He could then take the appropriate corrective action. We are not perfect. We are not expected to be tzadikim. We simply must be able to acknowledge who we are and what we do so we can turn things around.

Serenity -- a reality or just an aspiration? Vayeshev 5785

Yaakov settles in the Land of Israel, the Land of Canaan, the land of his forefathers. In that first sentence of this week’s parsha lies the hope of Yaakov and of all his descendants. Rashi, quoting the Midrash, states that Yaakov wanted to rest from his earlier troubles and remain serene and at peace for the balance of his life. This is a natural human wish and desire. But the troubles of Yaakov are not over by any means. 

The incident of the dispute and resultant tragedy of Yosef and his brothers will erase any hope of Yaakov being able to remain serene and at peace with himself. The truth of Jewish history indicates that the years of serenity of the Jewish people in the Land of Israel were relatively few and far between. We always thought that the creation of our national home in the Land of Israel would be the ultimate panacea for Jewish life. 

Herzl promised that anti-Semitism would disappear with the creation of an independent Jewish state. Tragically, history has shown the case certainly to be otherwise. In fact, the Jewish state has in many respects exacerbated the campaign of anti-Semitism in today’s world. The longing for serenity oftentimes blinds people to unpleasant realities and forthcoming dangers. 

Yaakov is aware of the problem between Yosef and his brothers, but he is not proactive in preventing the violence that lies below the surface of this dispute. His desire to rest and settle in peace in the Land of Israel – simply to be left alone by all of his neighbors and potential enemies – essentially prevents him from attempting to prevent the civil war brewing in his house. 

The Lord is critical, so to speak, of Yaakov’s desire for serenity at all costs. Serenity is in the World to Come and not in this world of problems and challenges. 

The Jewish community here in Israel desires peace and serenity at almost all cost. The desire is so strong that it has led to a great dispute between different sections of Israeli society. The desire for peace overwhelms all other issues and creates great rivers of division and even violence amongst us. 

The desire for peace and serenity has sucked all the oxygen out of the other issues of Israeli life. In pursuing a goal that may currently be beyond our abilities, we abandon the opportunity to truly achieve success with the more mundane challenges that face us. 

Ben Gurion, not noted for his great piety, said that there are certain issues that will have to be left to messianic times for permanent solution. Undoubtedly, he meant that certain problems do not lend themselves to resolve currently. We are entitled to aspire for serenity and peace, but not at the expense of the realities and dangers that face us. Yaakov’s example remain an important lesson for us as well in our present challenges and difficulties. 

Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein