Parashat Shmot, Exodus 1:1-6:1

Moses is a different type of leader, a most unlikely leader.

Like many children of immigrants, English is not my native tongue. There were no ESL classes when I was a kid. You picked up bits and pieces of the language on a daily basis. I believe this is formally called "immersion." Learning occurred not only through conversation but also through the popular media. I learned much of my English from radio, television, books and (gasp) comics.
I was not the first child to be mesmerized by comic books. By the time I was reading these magazines – and attempting to create my own – the "golden age" of comics had been over for a number of decades. Back in the 1930's and 40's, a whole slew of superheroes were created by nice Jewish boys barely past adolescence, their heroes representing the ideal of many post-Bar-Mitzvah boys of the time. The creators were both Jewish and North American; the characters had both a secret identity and one that was known to the world. The hero accepted the burden of his "otherness" and used his differences to better the community.

Probably the best known creation, certainly among the most closely examined for Jewish content, is the Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel's Superman. Back on Krypton, his name was Kal-el, el being a Hebrew word for God that appears in many Jewish names such as Israel, Ezekiel, or Daniel.

It occurred to me this week that Superman fits into what scholars term the "abandoned hero motif," which is typified by legendary characters such as Hercules, Romulus and Remus, or Cyrus, who were abandoned as infants but went on to achieve greatness. Unlike these other heroes, Superman's abandonment is meant to save his life. Placed in a rocketship and sent to earth, the fortunate baby is found and raised by Jonathan and Martha Kent, an upstanding Midwestern American couple. Luckily for us, they have the deepest moral integrity, which is passed along to the foundling. The rest is comic book history. Put it in Jewish terms, and Superman is practicing tikkun olam.

If back in Grade Four someone had told me that my favorite comic book hero had much in common with figures in the Torah, I might have paid more attention in Hebrew School. Though the last comic book adventures were often foremost in my thoughts during class, the Jewish connection never struck me. That had to wait until this week and the beginning of a new book in the Torah, Exodus(Shemot).

In Parashat Shemot we are introduced to Moses, the hero who will play a pivotal role in the rest of the Torah. Like Superman, he too appears to fall within the abandoned hero motif, although with significant variations.

In fact, the story of Moses’ birth departs … from the genre in general in so many significant respects that one almost gets the impression of a conscious attempt on the part of the biblical narrator to dissociate this narrative from the features otherwise characteristic of the foundling hero motif.

Nahum Sarna, Exploring Exodus, p. 30

For one thing, Moses' "abandonment" is anything but. It is well planned, so he will be found by a member of the royalty, with his sister close by to make sure that things go well.

The daughter of Pharaoh came down to bathe in the Nile, while her maidens walked along the Nile. She spied the basket among the reeds and sent her slave girl to fetch it. When she opened it, she saw that it was a child, a boy crying. She took pity on it and said, "This must be a Hebrew child." Then his sister said to Pharaoh's daughter, "Shall I go and get you a Hebrew nurse to suckle the child for you?" And Pharaoh's daughter answered, "Yes." So the girl went and called the child's mother. And Pharaoh's daughter said to her, "Take this child and nurse it for me, and I will pay your wages." So the woman took the child and nursed it.

Exodus 2:5-9

Others have looked at the relationship between Moses and Superman in comic books and films. I was struck with some minor details. Neither Moses nor Clark Kent are men of words and both suffer from speech impediments. Both Moses and Superman have to learn to control their anger: The young Moses killed an Egyptian taskmaster; and Superman too killed his enemies in the early days of the comic. Mainly though, I've been mulling over the two babies. For both Kal-el and Moses, their migratory bassinet holds the key to their future. In Superman's case, the details are explained outright. For example, the material used for his blanket was later woven into the famous blue and red outfit he wore as Superman. (I always wondered what needle Martha Kent used to stitch this cloth that was impervious to knives, bullets and bombs.) Moses' key is not so much with the paraphernalia as with the description of his "abandonment."

For example, his basket is called a teiva. The only other time we find that word in the Torah is in reference to Noah's ark. It is made waterproof with a combination of bitumen (heimar) and pitch. Going back again to parashat Noah, we find bitumen being used as mortar in building the tower of Babel (Genesis 11:3). The baby-sized ark is strategically placed among the reeds by the bank of the Nile (Exodus 2:3). The Hebrew word for reeds is suf, a word which we will occur again in Exodus 14 when fleeing the Egyptians we arrive at the Sea of Reeds (yam suf).

Is it possible to make anything of all of these allusions without a secret decoder ring? Does Moses in the basket symbolize the "good" that will be saved as the surrounding area is plagued because of the evil it contains? Is the bitumen a symbolic link between the inhumane treatment, which midrash tells us was inflicted on the workers in Babel, and the slaves in Egypt whom Moses is destined to lead? Do the reeds foretell the miracle that is the essential symbol of Redemption, God's parting the Sea of Reeds?

Finally, there is the physical description of Moses. As his mother gazed upon him, she saw how beautiful (ki tov) he was (Exodus 2:2). Sforno explains that "she saw that he was unusually beautiful and she felt that this must be for some specific purpose of his Maker, for beauty of form indicates physical superiority and perfection of one's imaginative powers." (Artscroll translation) Holy superhero! Moses has physical superiority and imaginative powers! Well, others view this beauty (ki tov) differently. Sarna reminds us it is the same phrase used throughout the story of creation, every time God looks at creation and "saw that it was good (ki tov)." According to Sarna, this use of ki tov "suggests that the birth of Moses is intended to be understood as the dawn of a new creative era."

What is this new creative era? Those of us who've sneaked a peek later in the scroll know that there is much drama to come for the people of Israel. As the Passover Haggadah reminds us, it is a story that leads from humiliation to exaltation. It is a new relationship between God and Israel that will forever serve as the symbol of our covenant: the Exodus from Egypt. But there is more to this saga. Moses is a different type of leader, a most unlikely leader, as unlikely as the idea that mild-mannered Clark Kent is actually Superman.

Just look at his first encounter with God. First of all, God must tell Moses how to behave in the presence of holiness: Remove your sandals from your feet, for the place on which you stand is holy ground. (Exodus 3:5) Then Moses tries to beg off the task that God sets for him: "Please, O Lord, I have never been a man of words, either in times past or now that You have spoken to Your servant; I am slow of speech and slow of tongue. … Please, O Lord, make someone else Your agent." (Exodus 4:10, 13) Finally, he appears to lack faith in God and confidence in his actions: "O Lord, why did You bring harm upon this people? Why did You send me? Ever since I came to Pharaoh to speak in Your name, he has dealt worse with this people; and still You have not delivered Your people." (Exodus 5:22-3)

The incredible act of creativity in Exodus is that God indeed chose Moses; selecting a man, not a superman. God saw the extraordinary aptitude in this humble individual, a potential that was not fulfilled overnight. What a wonderful role model for all of us! Here is a man, who begins life ignorant of God and holiness, unable and unwilling to speak, reluctant to act but nonetheless transformed. If a man such as Moses can carry the covenantal burden, so can each one of us. Exodus is not only about the creation of a people, it is about the ability of each individual, whatever our personal limitations, to accomplish the tasks set by God. "Can't" is not a word that is in the brit (covenant). Consider then, what is your God-given potential and how will you fulfill it?

Oh, and for the further adventures of Moses and the Jewish people, tune in again next week, same day, same Torah.

Shabbat shalom,
MS

Parashat Vayechi, Genesis 47:28-50:26

What turns a place into home?

I've been watching a lot of old movies recently. Not necessarily classics – just old black and white films that have a patina of quaintness about them. Perhaps it’s a coincidence, but a number of these films focus on home & family, sharing a common symbol for this: an embroidered sampler with the words "home sweet home," or the song Home Sweet Home as background music:

Mid pleasures and palaces
Though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble,
There's no place like home.

This last line would be familiar to anyone who has seen The Wizard of Oz; the words are spoken by Dorothy as she clicks her heels in Oz and wakes up back in Kansas.

What turns a place into home? Is it the familiarity with the physical aspects of the location? Is it the predictability of the events and interactions? Knowing a place is home brings to mind feelings of comfort and wellbeing, often felt most strongly when home is out of reach:

Who has not felt how sadly sweet
The dream of home, the dream of home,
Steals o'er the heart, too soon to fleet,
When far o'er sea or land we roam?

Thomas Moore, The Dream of Home

The dream of home provides the underlying theme of parashat Vayechi. We find a family, Jacob’s family, reunited, living comfortably in their new surroundings. But there are tensions – is it truly home? Jacob was concerned about going to Egypt, a fear that was addressed God in a vision that Jacob experienced in last week’s parasha: Fear not to go down to Egypt, for I will make you there into a great nation. I Myself will go down with you to Egypt, and I Myself will also bring you back; and Joseph's hand shall close your eyes. (Genesis 46:3-4).

Jacob's apprehension was only partially alleviated because this week in parashat Vayechi, he extracts a deathbed promise from Joseph: Do me this favor, place your hand under my thigh as a pledge of your steadfast loyalty …please do not bury me in Egypt. When I lie down with my fathers, take me up from Egypt and bury me in their burial-place. (Genesis 47:29-30). But burial with his ancestors is not enough for Jacob as he reminds Joseph: I am about to die; but God will be with you and bring you back to the land of your fathers (Genesis 48:21).

For Jacob being in Egypt is temporary and difficult to take. Burial "back home" brings him comfort, as does the knowledge of God's promise that eventually his family will return to the ancestral home.

But this parasha is one of transition; change is inevitable and evident. Joseph was already unrecognizable to his brothers; the transition had begun. In the description of Jacob's burial, the transformation of his family is also clear. The burial party that accompanies Jacob out of Egypt is a sizable one consisting of Jacob’s sons and extended family members, as well as a contingent of who's who of ancient Egypt. Yet Jacob's family is a large entourage even without the accompanying dignitaries. How interesting then, that the Canaanites observing the burial procession comment "This is a solemn mourning on the part of the Egyptians" (Genesis 50:12). The father who wants to be buried back home is mourned by the children who appear to others as comfortably Egyptian.

Granted, Jacob's sons know they have no choice but to stay in Egypt. That is, after all, part of God's plan. Joseph even reminds his family of this on his deathbed saying "I am about to die. God will surely take notice of you and bring you up from this land to the land that He promised on oath to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob." So Joseph made the sons of Israel swear, saying, "When God has taken notice of you, you shall carry up my bones from here." (Genesis 50:24-5) But that is off in some unknown future. Joseph's burial is very different from his father's. Joseph died at the age of one hundred and ten years; and he was embalmed and placed in a coffin in Egypt. (Genesis 50:26) Jacob gets an entourage accompanying him to his ancestral home; Joseph is buried in the new home, Egypt. At the same time, Joseph maintained a spiritual tie to the land he has not seen since the age of seventeen. So what is Joseph: Hebrew or Egyptian? Actually, neither- Joseph is the first Jew, or more accurately, the first modern Jew.

A few weeks ago, we looked at Abraham and Isaac as being spiritual immigrants, never really fitting in to their surroundings. Despite this, with God's help, they were very successful in their alien surroundings. Joseph and his brothers are in a different situation. They are truly immigrants in the entire sense of the word. The challenge is not to be swallowed up by the majority culture. Joseph wears Egyptian attire; he has an Egyptian name, an Egyptian wife, and an important place within Egyptian society. What is to keep him an MOT (member of the tribe) and why bother?

Yosef Hayim Yerushalmi describes this very Jewish predicament as

Exile and Domicile… the simultaneous awareness of being in exile, yet the profound sense of attachment to the land or place in which one lives, the sentiment in exile of feeling at home. Exile & domicile…have often existed in dialectic tension.

Exile and Expulsion in Jewish History

Yerushalmi notes that exile is a theme throughout the entire book of Genesis beginning with the expulsion from Eden, proceeding to Abraham’s leaving his homeland, and finally, Jacob’s family settling in Egypt. He points out how unusual it is to have a people’s “origins and formation” take place outside its homeland.

A recent article, New Jews: The End of the Jewish Diaspora, by Caryn Aviv and David Shneer looks at how Jews have adapted to different surroundings.

Over the course of several centuries, Jews added various cultural strategies for remembering the homeland while firmly “rooting” themselves in local places. Jewish communities established cemeteries—a very concrete act of claiming both place and space that meant acquiring land and investing it with cultural and metaphysical power.

Joseph's brothers did much the same as their descendants in other lands. They lived apart, in the land of Goshen. They were shepherds, an occupation the Egyptians didn't care for. This helped them maintain their identity.

Nevertheless, Joseph was buried in Egypt. Burial ground provides both presence and permanence. Interestingly, the message in Vayechi is one solely of presence. Joseph himself denies the permanence, saying his bones will be taken out of Egypt.

A funny thing happened on the way to the Diaspora. We became who we are as a people. Our earliest "rooting" is actually an uprooting. People in Diaspora tend to look to the past with great nostalgia. We derive meaning not only from "homeland' but also from Diaspora. This first Diaspora in Egypt forged our identity. How often are we instructed to behave in a certain way because we were strangers in Egypt? Later Diasporas strengthened our identity. Rabbinic Judaism is a Diaspora creation. So are the holidays we observe, the lifecycle events we celebrate, and the various movements of Judaism we uphold. Our great leaders of transition, Joseph and Moses, both lived in Galut (Diaspora).

Genesis begins with the spiritual migration of individuals and concludes with the physical migration that will shape a spiritual community. As we transition from Genesis to Exodus let us ponder the meaning of the homes our people have had. Not all of them deserve the embroidered sampler with the words “home sweet home.” But in retrospect, the words of the historian Philo can be applied to our experience as sojourners: "It often happens that people who are actually in unconsecrated spots are really in most sacred ones." (Legum Allegoriae I, 62)

Shabbat shalom,
MS

Parashat Vayigash, Genesis 44:18-47:27

Vayigash is a most human tale of unfinished business and of scores that call out to be settled.

A friend and I recently caught a glimpse of some hockey highlights on a sports network. She pointed out that these highlights consisted of nothing but fights from different games. What is it about fighting that captures the imagination? Hockey might be the most obvious example, at least in regard to actual fisticuffs, but our attention is also riveted by long-running rivalries such as that between the Maple Leafs and Habs (Canadiens), for example. Other sports also have long-standing feuds, for instance the interminable Red Sox-Yankees rivalry. Need I say more? The steroid driven soap operas of the wrestling world may well be the modern day equivalent of the Montagues and Capulets.

Then there are the real-world feuds such as the Hatfield and McCoys, whose reasons for feuding ranged from differing sympathies during the American Civil War to ownership of a pig, as well as a 19th century Romeo and Juliet story. Or how about a more recent feud: the forty year battle between two of the greatest cardiologists in the world, Dr. Michael DeBakey and Dr. Denton Cooley, which appears to be nearing an end. (See Lawrence K. Altman, MD, The Doctor's World column, "The Feud" New York Times, November 27, 2007.)

Underlying feuds are issues of power, jealousy, wrongdoing and revenge. All these factors come to the fore in this week's parasha, Vayigash. Joseph, the second most powerful man in Egypt, is toying with his brothers who do not recognize him. Having asked them to bring his full brother Benjamin to Egypt with them, Joseph hides a goblet in Benjamin's bag and accuses him of theft. This is more than the brothers can bear and in the first two words of the parasha (Genesis 44:18) Judah approaches (vayigash) to face this powerful ruler to fight for his youngest brother.

The very name of this portion, the deceptively simple word vayigash, "he approached," says much about rivalries and feuds. Midrash Breishit Rabbah tells us that this verb encompasses three meanings: (1) Judah could be preparing for battle, as is the case in II Samuel 10:13; (2) he could be preparing for conciliation, as in Joshua 14:6; or (3) he is preparing for prayer. Which is it? According to Rabbi Eliezer, the correct answer is all of the above. Yet another midrash in this same work compares the meeting of Judah and Joseph to the struggle between a lion and a bull, a battle the ministering angels are eagerly anticipating. It appears to be a fight to the finish. In our day, ministering angels must be hockey fans.

There are certainly enough instances in history and in literature where sibling rivalry turns into a power struggle. We can find example of this process at the end of the Hasmonean dynasty, when the rivalry between Hyrcanus II and Aristobulus II eventually paved the way for Rome to establish its power in Judea. Another example from the realm of history would be the War of the Roses, which was immortalized by Shakespeare - Richard III anyone?

So which is it in this week's parasha: sibling rivalry or power struggle? How about a bit of both? On one level, the rivalry of Joseph and Judah is an allegory for the later kingdoms: Judah in the South and Israel in the north. This northern kingdom was also known as the house of Joseph (Zechariah 10:6). So one interpretation of Vayigash can be that this week's face-off between Joseph and Judah is a dynastic one. Spoiler alert: Judah will be the winner. Historically, the southern kingdom survives for much longer. It also explains the blessing that Jacob gives to Judah in next week's parasha:

You, O Judah, your brothers shall praise;
Your hand shall be on the nape of your foes;
Your father's sons shall bow low to you. …
The scepter shall not depart from Judah,
Nor the ruler's staff from between his feet;
So that tribute shall come to him

And the homage of peoples be his. (Genesis 49:8, 10)

On another level, Vayigash is a most human tale of unfinished business and of scores that call out to be settled. Perhaps this is why Joseph is toying with his brothers, although commentaries say that he is testing them to gauge their remorse.

Itturei Torah, a collection of Hassidic and ethical teachings, gives a deeper meaning to Judah's action. Looking at the word vayigash, this commentary asks whom Judah approached, responding that he approached "Himself -- for only when Judah became himself at his best was he able to speak as he did" (translation from the Plaut commentary).

Judah's actions are viewed as symbolizing complete repentance for his past deeds. Judah was put in a situation where the life of one of Rachel's sons was again in his hands. Unlike the first instance (Genesis 37:26), when he sold Joseph, here he saves Benjamin. Repentance is truly complete when he faces the same situation as before but reacts differently. This moves Joseph to tears, and he reveals his true identity to his brothers. It appears that the feud between the brothers is finally over.

Alas, this is not so. In the very next chapter, as Joseph sends his brothers to bring the rest of the clan to Egypt, he warns them, "Do not be quarrelsome on the way." (Genesis 45:24). Among Rashi's explanations of this verse is that the brothers might blame each other for selling Joseph into slavery. In other words, a new feud could develop in the family. In next week's parasha, after the death of Jacob, the brothers fear that Joseph's behavior towards them will change: "What if Joseph still bears a grudge against us and pays us back for all the wrong that we did him!" (Genesis 50:15). Although Joseph reassures them that all that happened was actually part of God's plan, it is still interesting to note this dread, seventeen years after their reunion. It is perhaps too simplistic to hope that Joseph's reunion with his brothers would signal a complete healing of their relationship, one that would be in line with their father Jacob's dramatic reconciliation with his brother:

Esau said, "I have enough, my brother; let what you have remain yours." But Jacob said, "No, I pray you; if you would do me this favor, accept from me this gift; for to see your face is like seeing the face of God, and you have received me favorably. Please accept my present which has been brought to you, for God has favored me and I have plenty." And when he urged him, he accepted.

(Genesis 33:9-11)

Nonetheless, Joseph's reunion with his brothers is just as dramatic. As with Jacob and Esau, despite the fact that the threat of a fight hangs over the entire affair, it never materializes. Where the two reconciliations differ is in the aftermath. Both Joseph and his brothers carry scars of distrust within their souls. Yet they manage to reunite, imperfect though that reconciliation may be. The path from estrangement to reconciliation does not mean that the past is forgotten; rather it is accepted, perhaps slowly, grudgingly, in all its fragility.

Response is not always given; and even when it is, it is not the same for every man. Repentance is a gradual process: final response is awarded not to specific isolated acts but to the whole; the various components, the desire to act, the performing of the deed based on anticipation, the yearning, disappointment, and hope, are rewarded, if at all, by partial answers. In other words, a response to turning is given to a man as “something on account” the rest to be paid out later. A person generally hears the longed-for answer not when he puts his question, not when he is struggling, but when he pauses on a summit and looks back on his life.

Adin Steinsaltz, The Thirteen Petalled Rose

Joseph and his brothers have taken the initial step on their journey to reconciliation. Though they follow the same itinerary, each one of them travels that path on his own. Here's hoping that when they pause on the summit, they each see a breathtaking view. Here's hoping as well that each one of us, even before we reach that summit, can gaze out and appreciate the beauty in even our most challenging relationships.

Shabbat shalom,
MS

Parashat Miketz, Genesis 41:1-44:17

Tears serve a multitude of purposes.

There is an old saying that seeing is believing, when in actuality seeing is interpreting. In this week's parasha, Joseph's brothers find themselves in Egypt standing before a great Egyptian official. He looks Egyptian, and he sounds Egyptian. Thus, they have no idea this is the same Joseph they sold into slavery. He doesn't look the part.

In a famous experiment conducted by John and Sandra Condry, two groups of people were shown a video of an infant bursting into tears as a jack-in-the box pops up. The group that was told the baby was female interpreted the tears as being fright. Those who were told it was a baby boy saw tears of anger. Not surprisingly, the Condrys titled their report "Sex Difference: A Study of the Eye of the Beholder."

In our society, crying is often looked at as an emotional outlet for women. Edmund Muskie lost the 1972 US presidential nomination in part because of his tears. In the Torah, tears are shed by both men and women. Hagar bursts into tears when she thinks her son is dying (Gen 21:15). After Sarah's death, Abraham proceeded to mourn for Sarah and to bewail her (Gen 23:2). Having discovered that he lost his blessing, Esau wept aloud (Gen 27:38). Upon first seeing Rachel, Jacob kissed her and broke into tears (Genesis 29:11). Reconciling after decades of separation, Jacob and Esau weep (Gen. 33:4).

But it seems that the most tears are shed by Joseph. This happens twice in this week's parasha, Miketz. When Joseph's brothers come down to Egypt, he treats them harshly. When he overhears their remorse, He turned away from them and wept (Gen. 42:24). Later, the brothers return, bringing Benjamin with them. Upon seeing his full brother, Joseph hurried out, for he was overcome with feeling toward his brother and was on the verge of tears; he went into a room and wept there (Genesis 43:30).

Tears serve a multitude of purposes. Lewis Carroll played wonderful games with tears. Alice of Wonderland fame sheds "gallons of tears" as she cries in frustration in the rabbit hole. Both the Walrus and the Carpenter weep in their escapade on the beach; the walrus shedding what we would term "crocodile tears" as he is about to consume the oysters they enticed to follow them.

"I weep for you," the Walrus said:
"I deeply sympathize."
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

Rabbinic commentary has much to say about tears – but focuses on Joseph's mother and aunt. Recall that Leah is described as having weak eyes (Gen. 29:17). Rashi explains that Leah was constantly crying because of the midrashic tale that she was supposed to marry Esau. Rachel's tears are brought to our attention by the prophet Jeremiah:

A cry is heard in Ramah –
Wailing, bitter weeping,
Rachel weeping for her children.
She refuses to be comforted
For her children, who are gone.
Thus said the Lord:
Restrain your voice from weeping,
Your eyes from tears;
For there is a reward for your labor

– declares the Lord:

They shall return from the enemy's land.
And there is hope for your future

– declares the Lord:

Your children shall return to their country.

(Jeremiah 31:15-17)

Midrash Lamentations Rabbah draws upon this text, having Jeremiah approach some of the great biblical figures to plead before God to return Israel from exile. The three patriarchs fail, as does Moses. But Rachel succeeds in stirring God's compassion and God responds with the words from Jeremiah: Restrain your voice from weeping. Here the tears inspire compassion.

What of Joseph's tears? He cries more often than any other figure in the Torah. Jacob cries four time (Genesis 29:11, 33:4, 37:35, 46:29); Joseph cries seven times. Interestingly, he sheds no tears when he is sold into slavery. He does not weep when he is falsely accused by Potiphar's wife and imprisoned. Nor does he cry for joy when he is freed from prison and elevated by Pharaoh.

All his tears are related to family matters. In addition to the two incidents in this week's portion, Joseph sobs when Judah pleads to take Benjamin's place as a hostage (Genesis 45:2). He cries when he reveals himself to his siblings (Genesis 45:14-15) and again when he is reunited with his father (Genesis 46:29) He sheds tears of mourning when his father Jacob dies (Genesis 50:1) Finally, Joseph weeps when he hears that his brothers fear he will take vengeance now that their father is dead (Genesis 50:17).

Joseph's tears run the gamut from joy to anger, sorrow and frustration. Sometimes they are all rolled into one. Rashi says that Joseph cried upon meeting his brothers in this week's parasha because he heard their remorse. Sforno says he cried because he witnessed their distress. Midrash Sechel Tov by Rabbi Menachem ben Shlomo (Italy, 12th century) implies that Joseph lost all thought of vengeance: "tears extinguish the burning coals of the heart." The Netziv takes the opposite view, explaining in his commentary, HaEmek Davar, that Joseph cried because he couldn't yet reveal his identity, since he knew he would inflict further suffering on his brothers by toying with them in chapter 44. Nobel Laureate Thomas Mann has Joseph's eyes filling with tears of joy at the news that his brothers are coming to Egypt; he knew this would happen someday. But the joy is mingled with confusion. How will he behave? In Mann's classic work Joseph and His Brothers, he confides to his steward Mai-Sachme:

I don't know what sort of man I am. One does not know beforehand how one will behave in one's story; but when the time comes it is clear enough and then a man gets acquainted with himself.

Mann brilliantly verbalizes the conflicts that are contained in Joseph's tears. More than any other figure in the Torah, Joseph is multi-dimensional. We meet him as a youth, see him imprisoned, follow him as he is elevated to a leadership role and are present as Joseph deals with his brothers. Joseph is no saint. He is a man who, with God's help, can save nations from famine, and at the same time play cruel games with his brothers. But this is a man who is so real that he reaches out to us from the sacred scroll. He loves and resents his brothers at the same time. He has reached an understanding and acceptance that his life experience is part of a divine plan. Yet upon seeing his brothers, he cannot help but feel the strong emotions that have been imprisoned within him during his years in Egypt. No wonder there are so many interpretations of his tears.

Through Joseph's tears, one thing becomes clear. The most difficult obstacles and the greatest joys are not found in being a servant to Potiphar or second-in-command to the Pharaoh. All of Joseph's tears deal with those he loves. He might even be surprised at his tears, not realizing how important these relationships are to him.

If only we could be like Joseph. If only we could look back at the obstacles in life and see that they were stepping-stones, opportunities to better ourselves and strengthen our relationships. Then we would truly understand the words of the psalmist that they who sow in tears shall reap with songs of joy (Psalm 126:5).

Shabbat shalom and happy Hanukkah,
MS