Parshas Vayigash: Going to and Living in Galus

 

Parshas Vayigash: Going to and Living in Galus

 

Dedicated to a refuah shelaima for Chana Zelda bat Gittel Yita, Batya Dina bas Chava Tzivia, Chaya Sarah bas Esther Leah, Moshe Aaron ben Necha Itta, and Binyamin ben Simcha.

 

Hindsight is 20/20 they say, and when you look at history from the present day you see all the twists and turns that brought about great triumphs and cataclysmic failures. And when you read a story from a historic time and you read about an individual or family’s first step into history – perhaps their purchase of a place on the Titanic – it is natural to want to call out a warning: “Wait! Don’t do it!”

 

In some ways, that may be exactly the case of parshas Vayigash, this week’s parsha. After Yosef’s revelation that these are his brothers, “Pharaoh said to Yosef, “Say to your brothers, ‘Do as follows: load up your beasts and go at once to the land of Canaan. Take your father and your households and come to me; I will give you the best of the land of Egypt and you shall live off the fat of the land.’ And you are bidden [to add], ‘Do as follows: take from the land of Egypt wagons for your children and your wives, and bring your father here. And never mind your belongings, for the best of all the land of Egypt shall be yours’” (Bereishis 45:17-19).

 

I mean, wow! What incredible generosity. What kindness… What a trap! Not in the short term. In the short term this was, seemingly, the best of opportunities for there was no famine in Egypt. In the long term, however, we know how that relationship with the Mitrzim turned out. In truth, that is not a fair statement. After all, Bereishis 46:3 relates that Hashem called out to Yaakov and said: ““I am God, the God of your father’s [house]. Fear not to go down to Egypt, for I will make you there into a great nation.” 

 

But as with all moments in the Torah, there is here a warning for the future… the lure of creature comforts, of promises of comfort and luxury often come at a heavy price – not necessarily for the first generation, but for future generations. It is not often discussed when we study the role call of nations who, over the course of our very long history, banished Jews from their lands, but many of those communities that later suffered oppression and exile had initially been invited by a local ruler to come because it was known that the presence of a Jewish community was often key to invigorating an economy. And far too often, those “invitations” came with appeals of tax breaks and promises of security that did not last once the economy was flourishing.

 

We often ask ourselves why Hashem has set us such a difficult history and such a long exile. It is a question to which there are many answers. We know from the Torah that Hashem expects our nation to be a mamleches kohanim, a kingdom of priests, which can be understood as a nation that demonstrates avodas Hashem to the rest of the world, and here in this parasha we also find a fascinating example of the possibilities we have to fulfill the role of being a light until the nation. In just one pasuk, 45:1, one can find two dynamic possibilities of kiddush Hashem. Yosef, overwhelmed by Yehudah’s speech, declares that everyone must leave the room. He then breaks down and sobs in front of his brothers, reveals himself, and immediately tells them that all was for the good.

 

The commentaries ask why it was that Yosef sent everyone from the room, and there appear to be two primary answers in the mepharshim. The more commonly known response is that Yoseph did not want to embarrass his brothers since there seemed no way to reveal himself without his path to Egypt coming to be revealed, and it would shame his brothers for others to know that they had sold him as a slave. A kiddush Hashem! Yosef sent everyone else away so his brothers would not be embarrassed.

 

On the other hand, some mepharshim explain Yosef’s sending away his men as a desire not to have his plans for his brothers disrupted as the men around him were deeply swayed by Yehuda’s speech. The servants were struck by Yehuda’s heartfelt words, his pinpoint argument, and his obvious care for this youngest brother. And this too was a kiddush Hashem.

 

Living in galus has its highpoints and its lowpoints. (Yes, we do have to be honest that it isn’t all bad.) Indeed, those two are often quite the extremes of each other. Whatever the situation, whether we are sitting in a seat of power or wealth or just comfort or we are prisoners facing unfair accusations, we remain Bnei Yisrael with an important role in the greater world and a responsibility to make a kiddush Hashem.

 

I wish you all a beautiful (and cozy) Shabbas.

I thank you for bearing with me as I recognize that this dvar Torah really ended up as two mashed together and not as developed as I would have liked….as I can probably say for most of them this year!

 

 

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.

Vayigash - What Do We Do with the Blessings of Hashem?

This week’s parsha is the culmination of the narrative of Yosef in Mitzrayim. He reveals himself to his brothers and is reunited with his father. He actively recognizes, in this parsha, that all that has come to pass was designed precisely to put him in the position to bring the family to Mitzrayim and save them from the famine. “But now do not be sad, and let it not trouble you that you sold me here, for it was to preserve life that God sent me before you.For already two years of famine [have passed] in the midst of the land, and [for] another five years, there will be neither plowing nor harvest. And God sent me before you to make for you a remnant in the land, and to preserve [it] for you for a great deliverance” (45:5-7).

It is common to speak of the subject of Yosef’s ability to find the reason and the benefit to the hardships that he suffered. It is an incredibly powerful lesson to every individual – a powerful reminder that our most difficult challenges may just be pieces of a path that gets us to where we need to be. And given everything that occurred between Yosef and his brothers, his insight and forgiveness is truly remarkable.

This week’s parsha also provides us with a different lesson about Yosef that can be deemed important. Yosef grasped each of the blessings that came his way and made the most of the situation not just for himself, but for everyone around him. Potifar’s household benefited. The prison benefitted. And, of course, the entire country of Mitzrayim benefitted.

Yosef’s greatest strength was - as is noted by the Midrashic reference to seeing his father - his concrete faith and identity, which he managed to pass on to his two sons who were born and raised surrounded by the Mitzri culture. His second greatest strength was his instinct to channel all of the blessings that Hashem gave him – intelligence, charisma, business acumen, and even good looks (never a bad thing in politics) – into that which benefitted others.

Of course, one might argue that being Viceroy of Mitzrayim was pretty good for Yosef, but the truth is that being Viceroy of Mitzrayim meant he had to hide his identity and his faith. He spoke no Hebrew until his brothers came. He lived without anyone who could really understand the faith he held. And he managed, and it could not have been easy, to teach his sons about the people they came from.

It is interesting to note that the history of the Jewish people through all of our wanderings reflects this aspect of Yosef, which is really the blessing of Avraham that those who bless him shall be blessed. We have brought benefit to each land where we have lived (alas, the second half of the story – jealousy, protectivism, oppression also repeats itself).

While most of us will never have the opportunity to attain a position of power like Yosef, that does not mean that we lack our own spheres of influence. Whether that be through a job or in our communities or just in our homes, we must recognize our gifts and use the talents and skills with which Hashem has blessed us for the benefit of those around us.

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Wishing you all a beautiful Shabbas

Maintaining Mindfulness

 This week’s parsha, Parshas Vayigash, is connected to a famous midrash that describes the gentle way in which Yaakov is told that Yoseph is in Egypt. The midrash explains that Serach, the daughter of Asher, who was renowned for her singing, began repeating a gentle melody and singing about Yoseph being alive. No one wished for the elderly Yaakov to be startled by the news. It is a lesson in consideration and forethought.

Communicating information is, in some ways, a theme that runs throughout Yoseph’s story. Serach’s song is the epitome of conscientious thinking, and it is also the direct result of the communication that has already occurred. The most jarring contrast to it is when Yoseph reveals his true identity to his brothers.

“And he wept out loud, so the Egyptians heard, and the house of Paroah heard. And Yoseph said to his brothers, ‘I am Yoseph. Is my father still alive?” But his brothers could not answer him because they were startled by his presence” (Bereishis 45:2-3).

This was not conscientious. This was emotional. This was impetuous. This was ripping off the band-aid. When you think about it that way, it is not surprising that Yoseph found it necessary to repeat, several times, his assurance that he was not holding a grudge against his brothers. Information thrust at a person without adequate preparation can be traumatic.

As significant as the gentleness of Serach’s song is to Yaakov’s easily receiving the information that his presumed dead son was actually alive, there are also midrashim that note that Yaakov never fully believed Yoseph was dead. Here too we see the residual effects of information being shared without deeper thought to its impact.

“They had the ornamented tunic taken to their father, and they said, ‘We found this. Please examine it; is it your son’s tunic or not?’” (37:32).

Let’s be honest. That was not a kind and gentle way of revealing Yoseph’s supposed death. But the fact that it was so shocking, so unexpected, and that it was presented in such an unpalatable fashion, kept an ember of disbelief in Yaakov’s mind, making it so much easier to accept the eventual revelation of this divine plan.

Serach’s song is a lesson in communication that should be applied to many areas of life. Yoseph’s revelation of his identity and Serach’s announcement that he still lived were momentous milestones. Life, however, is filled with far less significant situations that, nevertheless, must still be handled mindfully.

Grand announcements and life changing revelations don’t come about so often in one’s life (although sometimes, for good or ill, they do). The message of mindfulness , on the other hand, can come in handy constantly. Whether one is sharing news, offering well-wishes, or trying to be supportive, one should always think ahead about how their words will be absorbed.

Parshas Vayigash: Guidance to the Promised Land

How do we get to the “Promised Land”? A pat answer might be: “Just get on a plane.” Alas, we all know that the real answer is that this is a question that our people have been asking for generations, because the term “Promised Land” implies far more than just a physical location. It alludes to the an era of residing in a state of universal understanding of our role in the world in relation to our Creator. It refers to what we call the era of Moshiach. And so we contine to strive with the question of how we can get to the “Promised Land.”

If one reads Parshas Vayigash as the simple narrative conclusion of the story of Yoseph bringing his family to Egypt, one might miss an interesting verse that, perhaps, has resounding implications for the Jewish people: “And he sent his brothers, and they went, and he told them, “Do not be agitated on the way” (Bereishis 45:24). In the context of Bereishis, Yoseph has just finished revealing himself to his brothers, they have feasted together, he has loaded their caravan with provision and gifts, and it is time for them to go and get Yaakov. Throughout the perek, Yoseph has assured his brothers that he has forgiven them, that he is not upset with them, and that “God has sent me ahead of you to ensure your survival on earth, and to save your lives in an extraordinary deliverance.  So, it was not you who sent me here, but God” (Bereishis 45:7-8). Why then, is he worried that they will be agitated?

Many of the commentators explain that Yoseph was telling his brothers not to be concerned that they would be beset by highwaymen (robbers) or that people they would pass would try to steal from them. While the Rashbam* implies that this fear was the result of their underlying guilt, that those who are burdened with past sin have constant worry for disaster, the general consensus of those who understand the verse this way is that Yoseph was telling his brothers that they need not have this agitation because his name and position would protect them.

But there are other understandings of Yoseph’s statement as well. Rabbeinu Bahya points out that the sages in Gemara Taanis understand it as a warning not to get too involved in halachic discussions that might slow them down. The commentator says: “He did not mean to stop them from discussing such matters; he only did not want them to go into them at depth as this would prove time-consuming” (Sefaria translation).

Agitated, it must be pointed out, is just one translation/association of the word תִּרְגְּז֖וּ tirgzoo. A different understanding of the word tirgzoo is that it means quarrelsome. In this context, as the Radak* explains, Yoseph was worried that the brothers might spend the journey home blaming each other for all that had happened. He could imagine their ride home being full of “Well, if you hadn’t said we should kill him…” “It was your idea to throw him in the pit…” “Who thought deceiving our father was a good idea!”  It is human nature to quarrel in this manner, but Yoseph wanted them to truly understand that everything had been hashgacha pratis, Divine purpose. 

What, you might now be asking, does all of this have to do with the question of “How do we get to the promised land”?  How do we get to the age of Moshiach. Moshiach is a complicated topic, and people throw around the term Messianic Age rather easily. Part of the process of the coming of the Moshianic Age, is that there will be two types of Moshiach - the Moshiach ben David whom most people mean when they use the term, will be the latter, the start of a new Davidic line on the throne of Israel. Prior to Moshiach ben Dovid, however, there will be Moshiach ben Yosef, whose role it will be to herald in the final era and to guide our people along the way. Thus it is interesting that this verse, 45:24, begins “Vayishlach es achiv, and he sent his brothers.” The verses just previous to this are filled with details of how he is provisioning them to leave and even the statement that he sent “she-asses laden with grain, bread, and provisions” to his father. The verse could very well have started with Vayelchoo, and they went. But he sent them. There is purpose to their travel.

How, then, did Yoseph Hatzadik guide the brothers along a way that would help their descendants so many generations later? He warned them not to be agitated or quarrelsome. The journey to the “Promised Land” is our journey through exile. On this journey we must be careful not to quarrel with one another, not to point fingers and cast blame for that which happens because all is part of the Divine plan. On this journey, we must study the Torah, learn our laws, delve into the richness of our heritage, but we must not get so involved in the details that we lose the path. We must remember that Torah encompasses far more than dos and donts, but living in this world and uplifting it. On this journey, we must not be agitated with what others will think of us because we travel under the authority of the Ultimate King. As long as we proceed in the path He has set forth (Torah), His name is our protection. 

May we soon see the end of our journey!

What the Bread Means (Vayigash #3)

One would not think that there would be a great deal to say about a simple line like "Yoseph sustained his father and brothers and all his father's household with bread, down to the little ones" (Bereishis 47:12). It comes as the conclusion to the description of the incredible welcome Yaakov and his family received in Mitzrayim. After a personal greeting from Paraoh and the permitted settlement of the choicest land in the country, it should not even be particularly informative that Yoseph provided bread - sustenance - to his family. And yet it was worth noting in the Torah.

Most commentators understand this verse as a description of how - scantily or with largesse - Yoseph supported his family. Some commentators, such as Chizkuni and Sforno, read "down to the little ones" as a statement of economic frugality, of only as much as was needed. Sforno states that this phrase infers that "even though Yoseph was in a position to allocate generous rations to the members of his family, he did not show them any preference and treated them on the basis of need, each family according to the number of souls."

Other commentators, however, believe that the phrase "down to the little ones" tells quite a different story. The Radak cites Pesachim 10 saying: "It is in the nature of children to break food up into crumbs and to leave them all over the place. There is a well known proverb which states that children are responsible for the decay of food." Siftei Chachamim, elaborating on the same theme, explains that Yoseph "provided more than they really needed."

This would be an easy verse to take lightly and just note how it is an interesting means of understanding Yoseph and the family's situation at the time … if it were not for the stark contrast of 47:12 and 47:13: "Yoseph sustained his father and his brothers and all his father's household with bread, down to the little ones. And there was no bread in all the land, for the famine was very severe." Suddenly, one has to wonder at the juxtaposition. There is no bread in all the land, but Yoseph is feeding every member of his family bread. Not to imply that he should be skipping members of the family, but even if he were economical and giving just enough to comfortably sustain every member of the family, it sounds like that is still more than most people had at the time.

So what? You might ask. Yoseph is the viceroy. It is only natural that he gets to take care of his family a little better. Certainly Paraoh's family wasn't starving. And, indeed, we do not see the people begrudging Yoseph or his family. Indeed, through the rest of the parsha they are praising him as bringing their salvation from the famine even as they turn over everything they own and their rights and freedoms, as well.

The Egyptian people in their time of need do not question or argue with Yoseph. But when they are no longer in dire straits, when their country has recovered so well that they have the luxury to forget what Yoseph did for them… perhaps they did not forget how much easier Yaakov's family had it then the rest of the people - how only they and the priests were not forced to sell their land and to hand themselves over to be as serfs. Perhaps this was why it was so easy for the Egyptian people to let Paraoh enslave Bnei Yisrael.

Sforno concludes his commentary by writing: "Our sages have stated that at a time when the general population suffers shortage even those who have ample are to limit themselves." Control in a time of crisis - it sounds like an exceptionally worthwhile topic in the final days of 2020. We know that Hashem runs the world and that it is up to Him who gets infected (look at the number of households where 1 or 2 people got sick, but others did not). The people around us, however, are frightened. Not all of them, it's true, but many. In a time when everyone is being asked to restrain themselves, should we not be extra careful to show our own constraints? Thus we have a modern lesson from the bread of Yaakov's household.

Why “the Bagel” is Important to Klal Yisrael (Vayigash #2)

Parshas Vayigash is the culmination of the narrative of Yoseph, but really it is the completion of the story of the reunification of Bnei Yisrael. There is a beautiful verse in Perek 45 that does not seem to draw a tremendous amount of commentary, perhaps because it is natural to the sequence of the narrative. This verse, however, is one of tremendous importance for Jews today to remember: "And he [Yoseph] kissed all his brothers and wept on them, and after, his brothers talked with him" (45: 15). 

Not to him, but with him. Twelve sons, twelve different personalities, twelve different fathers of tribes that were going to become a people, and they embraced and talked together. Yes, this is one more call for unity among the many that we hear after each tragedy, but are we listening? Perhaps we will know how well we are doing when we can relate to the very next verse that describes the reaction to the news that Yoseph’s brothers had come to Egypt: "It was good in the eyes of pharaoh and in the eyes of his servants" (45:16).

There are some very interesting things we can learn from the dynamics of Yoseph and his brothers in Parshas Vayigash, perhaps things that weren’t even relevant until the post World War II era, since this is the significance of the eternity of Torah.  The parsha begins in the middle of perek 34, which certainly makes one wonder why the sages didn’t choose to break the parsha at the beginning or end of the perek. It also, perhaps, draws particular significance to the verse that begins the parsha: “Then Yehuda went up to him and said, ‘Please, my lord, let your servant appeal to my lord, and do not be impatient with your servant, you who are like Pharaoh” (44:18).

In verse 44:18, Yehuda told Yoseph that he is k’paro, like Pharaoh. Isn’t it odd how the brothers did not recognize Yoseph at all? Of course, one can say that they did not expect to find him in a position of authority, or, perhaps more honestly, they did not expect to find him alive. But one would think that he stood out a little from the Egyptians that surrounded him, after all the origin of the Egyptians was from Ham and the origin of Yaakov’s family was Shem, and they came from different regions. However, when the brothers were spoken to aggressively in Egyptian and told to speak through a translator to respond to their Hebrew, there was no reason to look closer, certainly not at the powerful man dressed in regal Egyptian robes who was called Tzaphnas Paneha, as Joseph had been renamed by Pharaoh.  Generations later, the Chatam Sofer would comment that the reason that Israelites were redeemed was that they kept themselves separate from the Egyptians by maintaining their clothes, their names, and their language, but for Yoseph, using a foreign name, speaking Egyptian, and wearing the clothes gifted by Pharaoh were actually the means by which he protected his neshama. 

In the next 16 verses, Yehuda speaks to Yoseph completely from the heart, relaying everything that has occurred between the two of them from his perspective and demonstrating how important is their desire to protect both Binyamin and Yaakov.  This is significant because of more than just the history of this specific family. Yehuda here represent klal Yisrael, and his descendants will be the leaders of the people. Binyamin, according to the Midrash, was a near perfect Tzadik, and he represents the righteous innocents. Yaakov, the man of the tents, represents the sages of the Torah, our men of wisdom and knowledge.  When Yoseph, who could perhaps represent those Jews who would become completely submerged in a foreign culture, heard Yehuda – heard his honesty and his sincerity – he finally cleared the room for what one could jokingly call the ultimate bagel.*

This past week, Jews throughout the observant world turned their focus to the incredible gathering of tens of thousands of Jews for the Siyum Hashas, the celebration of the completion of learning a page of Talmud a day for the seven and a half years it takes to complete the entire Talmud. The Talmud is studied by an incredible range of Jews, and I believe that if one wished to one could find representatives of every “denomination” and each kehilla whose life has been touched by this program of study. There were Jews from across the spectrum of observance, and that unity is palpable and energizing.

Now, however, we who are connected, we who have dwelled in the tents of Yaakov, must show the world our honesty, our sincerity, and the beauty of living a Jewish life by being extra conscientious of how we speak and how we act, ready at all times to make a kiddush Hashem. This is not so that we might appease the seemingly growing number of those who hate us, but so that we might show our honest regret at our separation from those members of our nation who have lost their names, their dress, and their language, but who have not lost their neshamas. They are just waiting for an opening to embrace their brethren.

Discussions of the messianic era refer to a future world of peace and to a time when Hashem’s glory will be revealed. It is also said that it will be a time when the nations of the world will want to work for the shared goal of Hashem’s glory with the Jewish people. This, however, can only occur when all twelve brothers kiss and weep and talk together, for only then will klal Yisrael find the favor in the eyes of the other nations to be a light unto the world. Until then, we remain in a painful state of gulus. 

*The bagel, in this case, is a newish term for moments when one Jew drops Jewish terms into the conversation in order to let the other person know that they too are a member of the Tribe.

Stronger Because of You (Vayigash #1)

“And the news was heard in Pharaoh’s house saying: ‘Joseph’s brothers have come.” Pharaoh and his servants were pleased” (45:16). Thus concludes the reunion of Joseph and his brothers.

This simple, seemingly transitional, verse tells us a great deal about the respect that Joseph earned in Egypt. From the narrative of the Torah, one sees that he was an outstanding politician, and while, like all politicians, he obviously knew how to handle people and deal with authority, he also displayed tremendous foresight for the benefit of those under his care. Joseph is described as a fair leader and a man who maintained his morality even in difficult times. Such inner strength is a character trait that I think most of us wish to see more of in our modern political leaders.

Another frequently discussed theme of the story of Joseph is his unwavering emunah (faith). Even as he is reunited with his brothers, deep in an emotional moment, he affirms his belief that everything that has occurred to him has been part of God’s plan. It is, in truth, a level of emunah that I think many Jews today deeply wish to attain but certainly feel far away from.

There is tremendous power in the apex of this narrative - the moment when Joseph reveals himself. This section of the Torah builds to an incredible sense of anticipation: “Joseph could no longer control himself before all his attendants, and he cried out, ‘Have everyone withdraw from me!’ So there was no one else about when Joseph made himself known to his brothers. His sobs were so loud that the Egyptians could hear, and so the news reached Pharaoh’s palace” - 45:1-2). 

Perhaps we could look at this text with a different perspective than simple family reunion: How relieved Joseph must have been to finally be among his own people. Not just the joy of being reunited with his brothers, not just the excitement of seeing his father, and not just the affirmation of his belief that God had a plan, but rather the recognition that finally he would be among people who shared his beliefs, his culture and his language. In fact, the Midrash (Genesis Rabbah 93:10, cited by Rashi) relates that Joseph revealed himself to his brothers in Hebrew.

Recently I attended a four-day course in London. There was one other Jewish participant at the program, a delightful woman from El Salvador who was strongly affiliated but not specifically religious. As much as I enjoyed the program, I spent a significant amount of the mealtimes explaining to people why my meals were different, a conversation that often segued into larger discussions about religious beliefs and traditional life. It was fascinating for me particularly in that, as an East Coast Jew, I am used to people knowing at least a little something, but many of these international students had never seen special kosher meals before. And while I have always enjoyed being an ambassador of Judaism, arriving at my hosts’ home for Shabbat was a great relief. I was now in my natural element, where I didn’t have to explain my food choices, or why I didn’t shake hands, or feel as if I stood out for my way of dress.

Joseph did take on the semblance of an Egyptian while he lived in Egypt, but one can imagine that he never felt as if he was in his own skin, so to speak. Even as he rose through the ranks, he was always, in his own mind, an outsider. And the only way that he could shed that feeling of being different was by being together with his own kind. Revealing himself to his brothers was not just a joy, but it was also an internal pleasure of simply acknowledging one’s true self.

Joseph’s life in Egypt is a journey that most people today can relate to. Most of us live in foreign lands, and we have grown up steeped in two cultures - our Jewish world and our national identities. Most of us are not rising political leaders, but all of us have an obligation to remember our values, our morals, and our faith, no matter what situation we are put in. As important as this inner strength is, however, we should never forget the necessity of the strength we gain from being part of a community.

Perhaps one could look at Pharaoh’s reaction to the news of the arrival of Joseph’s brothers in a different light. Pharaoh and his servants knew that they could trust Joseph, knew that he was working for their benefit and that he took his responsibilities seriously. Perhaps now they saw that Joseph would be an even stronger leader for having reconnected with the Children of Israel.