Dedicated in loving memory of Baila bat Mordechai v’Rachel, Dr. Beth Cunin, by Sharona and Baruch Benoff
Let us review where we have visited the past few months in our journey through the Jewish calendar. In Elul and Tishrei we bonded with God in the holiest of ways: in the synagogue and at our festive tables, dancing with the Torah and eating in the sukkah. Many of us are familiar with the journey we took in Cheshvan, notably absent of any Jewish holidays. It is the month that begins our human journey of searching for God when He is not easy to find, without a holiday or special tefillot marking our way, hopefully learning how to find His presence in our day-to-day, mundane lives. This is no easy task, and thankfully we enter Kislev, where the light of Chanukah fills our hearts again and for eight days we are performing actual hands-on mitzvot—pouring oil, making blessings and we are united with God more visibly, more tangibly once again.
Just as we are filling and expanding with this holy light, we are also preparing for Rosh Chodesh Tevet. And with the start of Tevet, where are we traveling on our calendar journey? The month starts with the end of Chanukah; the light and comfort of a clear Godly connection are blazing at their peak. Chassidic sources [1], say that the root meaning of Tevet is “tov ba,” good is coming or good has come. And yet, while we are feeling this tov, we are also entering the darkest weeks of the year in terms of literal daylight. Chanukah ends and we are without a formal holiday again, and bam, we meet up with the fast day of the tenth of Tevet, where, as Rebbetzin Tziporah Heller notes [2], Jerusalem was surrounded by the Babylonian forces who began a three-year siege that ended with the destruction of the Temple and the beginning of the exile that has never quite ended.
How do we make sense of this, Hashem? How are we to stumble through the dark, confusing days of our lives and feel that “tov,” that good, once the lights of the menorah are put away and we cannot find You with clarity?
I was fortunate this month to hear the brilliant wisdom of Michal Horowitz sharing her perspective on Yavan and Chanukah, and she mentioned with great passion that Yosef is the model and guide for the Jew in galut (exile). Why is this so? I found the answer presented clearly by Rav Yaakov Beasley, the editor of Torah MiEtzion [3]. From the time that Yosef first begins to dream until the time that he reveals himself to his brothers, Hashem stops speaking to him! To the forefathers—Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov—Hashem would appear at the most critical moments of their lives. He was there to reassure them, instruct them and demonstrate His constant fidelity to His promise. The forefathers knew Hashem and could rely on Him. With Yosef (and the rest of Yaakov’s children), the relationship has changed. No longer can they count upon Divine guidance when they face life’s challenges. Rav Beasley notes that Yosef is faced with “an apparently implacable Divine silence.”
And what does Yosef do, in the absence of Hashem’s direct communication? He reacts by bringing Hashem into the picture at every juncture of his life. When faced by the challenge posed by Potiphar’s wife, he responds (Bereishit Vayeishev 39:9), “But behold, my master, having me…has put all that he has into my hand. He is not greater in this house than I; nor has he kept back anything from me but you… How then can I do this great wickedness and sin against God?” Though he had already impressed that he could not sin, for practical and moral reasons, against Potiphar, Rav Beasley notes that Yosef insists on adding the Divine. He would not “sin against God.” Later on in Bereishit, where he is given an opportunity for self-advancement in his successful dream interpretation, Yosef states (Bereishit, Vayeishev 40:8), “Do not interpretations belong to God?” And then again in this week’s parsha (Bereishit, Mikeitz 41:16), dragged from prison and before the ruler of Egypt, Yosef again refuses to accept any credit for his own talents. He declares, “It is not up to me. May God provide an interpretation that will be for Pharaoh’s welfare.” When Yosef finishes his explanation, Pharaoh is moved to exclaim (Mikeitz 41:38), “Can we find such a one as this, a man in whom the spirit of God is?”
And then we read in one of the most gripping scenes in the Torah, where Yosef reveals himself to his brothers, exactly how he explains his experience (Vayigash 45:5-8), “And now be not grieved, nor angry with yourselves, that you sold me hither; for God did send me before you to preserve life. For…there are yet five years in which there shall be neither plowing nor harvest. And God sent me before you to give you a remnant on the earth, and to save you alive for a great deliverance. So now it was not you that sent me hither, but God; and He has made me a father to Pharaoh, and lord of all his house, and ruler over all the land of Egypt!”
Yosef, the pampered son, the prisoner from the pit; Yosef, filled with dreams and no God to interpret them, Yosef alone in foreign lands full of seduction and conflicting values becomes Yosef HaTzadik, who earns that title in large part by his ability to cleave to God even without Hashem’s voice to guide him.
When we are stumbling in the darkness of Tevet, when we are confronted by great pain and there are sieges upon our lives that we cannot understand, that is when we need to tap into the message of Yosef HaTzadik. Even without His voice to steer us, Yosef teaches that we are still able to talk about God, to feel the light of God, to look for signs and messages from God, to link to mentors who can help us carry the light of Hashem in our lives, to feel the love and goodness of God, to stumble and fall and yet still reach out for the hand of God.
Rosh Chodesh Tevet Sameach.
By Dr. Rayzel Yaish
Dr. Rayzel Yaish is the director of guidance, Maayanot Yeshiva High School.
