Unmasked

 Another Thursday night/Friday morning at the end of another crazy week – should be crazy for another month, so I will apologize in advance (and over and over, cause, you know).

As we’ve entered the new secular year, there have been many reflections on the year that has passed, which was nothing if not heart-wrenching and difficult. Around the globe people took to covering their faces so they could march in public and display a side of themselves that roils with violence and hatred. The world is full of people who present one face in public, but it isn’t who they truly are. Frighteningly, this very duplicity has been forcing many Jews to also choose to hide themselves, to take off their yarmulkes or tuck away their Magen David. In the world today, it sometimes seems like it might be safer to blend in, to appear like everyone else, than to display one’s Judaism.

When we read Parshas Vayigash, many of us are astonished that the sons of Yaakov do not recognize their brother Yosef. He was their brother, after all. But we know that he was dressed like an Egyptian – and not just any Egyptian, but a powerful official – and was known by a different name. “Joe” even spoke the language of the land flawlessly; we can assume he had no accent. So it isn’t altogether surprising that they didn’t realize it was him after 17 years, in a palace where he had been sold as a slave, and after he had accomplished the art of blending to perfection. Perhaps we are so surprised because many people have recognized a phenomenon of inherent recognition amongst our people. Anecdotally, and from my own experiences, there are many stories of the strange way in which Jews are drawn to each other – intentionally or not. We see it in the act known as bagelling, when a Jew who has shed all seeming outward signs of his/her identity makes it a point that their Judaism is recognized, that they don’t get overlooked as part of the tribe.

As Yosef interacted with his brothers, it became harder and harder for him to maintain the façade until he pulled them aside, emptied his chamber, and declared his identity. Yosef’s declaration of his identity echoes through history. Through trials and tribulations, exiles and assimilations, there has remained that spark of the pintele yid, as they call it, that yearns to burn bright. (An appropriate thought to remember just after Chanukah when the primary mitzvah entails being seen for who we are – those who serve and praise Hashem). The soul of the Jew wants to connect to his/her brethren, wants to be seen as who they truly are and not their outward garb.

Just because Yosef’s family came to Mitzrayim, does not mean that Yosef was able to dress or act publicly like himself. He was, after all, the Viceroy. Nevertheless, connected to his community, he was whole, and he admonished his family not to blend in, not to move in amongst the Mitzri nation. And the family of Yaakov was lauded by Paroah. They were granted land and privileges. They were shown respect and acceptance of their separation.

Those who beleaguer us now wish to make us weak by undermining our belief in ourselves. The louder they rally, the more Jews might question the path they follow or the way they express themselves because, as the protestors try to declare, it’s about justice (it isn’t), and no one wants to feel that they are opposed to justice.

But we must take our cue from Yosef. We must declare ourselves to our fellow Jews and come together, because our unity, our connection, and our sense of true self has always been our most powerful weapon.