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The sons of Jacob find themselves before Egypt’s second in command, unaware that it’s really their brother Joseph. Falsely accused of espionage and of stealing from the royal palace, about to lose their father’s beloved son Benjamin — whom they swore to protect from harm — Judah approaches the viceroy determined to end this downward spiral though all means.

It is at precisely this moment that Joseph cannot hide his true identity any longer, and he asks all but his brothers to leave the room. The Midrash (Tanchuma) notes that to ask everyone to leave was practically suicidal for Joseph. Fearing for Benjamin’s life, his brothers could easily justify killing Joseph, and there would be no witness to the act.

Rather, concludes the Midrash, Joseph’s overriding concern was for his brother’s dignity. When they discovered that they had severely erred in their judgment of Joseph and his dreams, that they had put their father through 22 torturous years of mourning for naught, they would certainly not want to be in the public eye. Joseph selflessly risked his life for the sake of his brothers’ dignity.

It’s a powerful message to us. Our culture glorifies the embarrassment of others; recorded gaffes and insults to those in the public eye go viral on youtube, and biting one-line remarks make up a good portion of today’s humor. Magazines whose sole purpose is gossip — usually of the least complimentary kind — abound. Where has the respect for human dignity gone?

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We read this week that two years after Pharoah’s wine steward and chief baker had their dreams, Pharoah had one of his own, and as a result, they rushed Joseph from jail.

Obviously Pharoah needed Joseph, but the Torah tells us something deeper: that Joseph was only in jail for the precise amount of time decreed from above. In fact, Joseph would have gotten out of jail earlier, but the Torah tells us that “the wine steward did not remember Joseph, and he forgot him.”

Why did he forget? Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki quotes the Medrash, which explains that Joseph placed his trust in the wine steward, rather than G-d. For that reason, G-d made sure that the wine steward forgot him.

We celebrate the holiday of Chanukah because Judah “the Maccabee” and his brothers did the opposite. Yehudah may have been strong, but he wasn’t insane. His was a small group, vastly outnumbered by not only the well-trained Greek army, but even by the Hellenized Jews of the era. They went out to wage war, against impossible odds, expressing their trust that G-d would help them.

This, too, drives home the lesson that we discussed two weeks ago — that we are obligated to make our own efforts, but “know that if they succeed, it is only because G-d granted them success.” It doesn’t matter if the person we might trust is a friend or relative or even ourselves… in the end, success comes from a Higher Authority.

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Many of us certainly remember the bitter taste of medicine. Before artificial sweeteners and capsules, taking medicine was, well… a hard pill to swallow.

Let’s put ourselves in Joseph’s shoes on his trip down to Egypt. After having lost his mother Rachel as a teenager, nearly killed by his brothers and thrown into a pit with poisonous snakes and scorpions (see Rashi’s commentary), he is then torn from his home, separated from his father, and sold as a slave in a foreign country. What can a person in such distress do to prevent a complete breakdown, and maintain his commitment and trust in G-d?

“Their camels were carrying spices, balm, and lotus, to take [them] down to Egypt (Genesis 37:25).” Why must the Torah record what merchandise was in Joseph’s caravan? Rashi’s commentary explains that normally the caravans carried merchandise with unpleasant odors, but for the sake of Joseph, this one carried the pleasant scents of spices. But consider the circumstances! In that situation, would Joseph really care whether the smells were fragrant or foul?

The answer may be counter-intuitive, but yes, he would care. He would care, and that was the key to Joseph’s unwavering commitment and positive attitude despite the rough road he was to travel. By focusing on even the small positive signs among the most trying circumstances, we can change our own attitude dramatically, and can muster the strength to move forward. G-d’s medicine may sometimes be bitter, but He adds a “spoonful of sugar” that we’d be wise to search for and embrace (Otzros HaTorah & Chofetz Chaim).

Good Shabbos!
Rabbi Mordechai Dixler
Program Director, Project Genesis – Torah.org

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As our forefather Yaakov (Jacob) prepared to encounter his brother Esav again after 34 years, he did three things: sent presents, readied for war, and prayed. He balanced his prayers and trust in G-d with appropriate “worldly” efforts. He neither trusted in his own efforts, nor expected G-d to protect him with open miracles.

Not everyone knows how to strike this balance correctly. At one end of the spectrum are the people who believe that everything is up to them, who panic when they encounter a challenge or pat themselves on the back when things go well. At the other end of the spectrum, perhaps, is the rabbi of a town seated downstream from a dam that was about to break.

The sheriff found the rabbi sitting calmly on his front porch, studying. “Rabbi!” yelled the sheriff, “it’s a flood, we have to evacuate!”

“Don’t worry,” said the rabbi, “G-d will help me. I don’t need to go.”

Soon the water flooded the town, and firemen in motorboats were picking up the stragglers. One of them noticed the rabbi, and called him to come with them.

“Don’t worry,” said the rabbi, “G-d will help me. I don’t need to go.”

But the waters rose, and rose, and by the time a helicopter was sent to find the last residents, the rabbi was calmly sitting on his roof. Yet once again, the rabbi refused to go.

Once in Heaven, the rabbi demanded an explanation. “I followed Your ways, I learned Your Torah, I did Your will… why didn’t You help me?!”

“What do you mean?” came the response. “I sent a car. I sent a boat. I even sent you a helicopter, but you refused to be helped!”

[Thank you to David Mitnick for reminding us, at the NWCP Dinner, of this joke.]

It is important to learn from Yaakov our forefather, and strike the balance. We must make our efforts — and know that if they succeed, it is only because G-d granted them success.