Shabbat Shalom! The torah portion for this week is Mikketz, which can be found in Genesis, chapters 41 through 44, and continues the exciting story of Joseph in Egypt. There are many important questions and issues brought up by this parasha, but first, a brief plot summary:
When we last left our hero, a week ago, you'll recall he was in prison and accurately interpreted the dreams of Pharaoh's chief baker and vintner. This week, our story opens two years later; Joseph is still rotting away in prison but something extraordinary happens to change his fate. Pharaoh has a dream--two dreams, in fact. He dreams of seven fat cows eaten up by seven skinny cows; then he dreams of seven ears of nice corn devoured by seven ears of rotten corn. This is a most disturbing dream, and all of Pharaoh's magicians, astrologers and priests are unable to interpret these dreams. Finally the chief vintner speaks up and tells Pharaoh of meeting Joseph when he was in prison; Pharaoh summons Joseph before him, and asks if Joseph can interpret it. Joseph says he cannot, but God will give the answer. Pharaoh then tells Joseph his dream, and Joseph responds that they mean that Egypt will have seven years of plentiful harvest, but those good years will be followed by seven very bad years of famine. Joseph goes on to tell Pharaoh that he must collect extra grain (in fact, one fifth of all the harvest will be taxed); this excess grain must be stored until the years of famine and then redistributed so that the people will not starve; also that Pharaoh should appoint a wise man to oversee this collection and redistribution. Pharaoh immediately recognizes that Joseph is the man who should do this, appoints him to be the second-most-powerful man in Egypt, second only to the Pharaoh himself, gives him a beautiful Egyptian wife, and a new name, Zaphenath-paneah, which means "he who reveals that which is hidden."
So Joseph is now on top of the world. What a rise and fall and rise and fall and rise he has had! From spoiled and egotistical son of a powerful nomad, to Egyptian slave, to head of Potiphar's house, to lowly prisoner, to second-most-powerful man in the known world. But the story is not yet over --there is one more act to play. Joseph has a son named Manasseh, meaning "God has caused me to forget;" but Joseph has not forgotten. After all this time, he still bears resentment against his brothers for having wronged him, solong ago.
The seven years of plenty go by, and then the famine comes. All the lands become desolate, even in Canaan, where Jacob and his remaining eleven sons are beginning to starve. They hear there is food in Egypt, so Jacob sends ten of the eleven sons there, leaving Benjamin behind, because Benjamin, as the only other progeny of his beloved wife Rachel, has taken the place of Joseph in his heart and is too valuable to him.
When Joseph's ten brothers arrive in Egypt and appear before the great Zaphenath-paneah, they do not recognize Joseph, but Joseph knows who they are. He immediately accuses them of being spies and has them thrown into prison, where they sit for three days. Here is a turning point in Joseph's outlook. His vengeance subsides as he sees them from his new elevated position and they become fellow humans in need--brothers, in the larger sense of the word--and he decides to test them.
He releases them--or rather, nine of them. Simeon is to remain behind. He tells them they must return with their last brother, Benjamin, to verify their story and prove they are not spies. The nine remaining brothers return to Jacob, tell him all that has happened, and desire to return to Egypt with Benjamin, so they can purchase more grain and have Simeon returned. But Jacob refuses. He will not part with his beloved Benjamin.
But the famine gets worse and the hunger grows. What agony Jacob must have gone through! What could be worse for a parent than to have his children ask for food when he has none to give! And the price for that food is to risk the life of his second-most beloved son, when his first had already been taken from him. But in the end, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one, for if Jacob not allow Benjamin to go to Egypt, they would all surely starve.
So Benjamin and the other nine brothers return to Egypt, Simeon is returned to them, and all are invited to dine at the house of the great Zaphenath-paneah, still not knowing that he is Joseph, their long, lost, but not forgotten brother. Joseph continues to test his brothers by sending them away early the next morning, but ordering his servant to hide his valuable silver goblet in Benjamin's grain sack. After they have traveled a short distance, Joseph's servants overtake them, accuse them of stealing, search them, and find the cup in Benjamin's sack. Joseph is testing his brothers to see how they react when one of them is in danger, to compare with what they had done to him when they sold him into slavery, oh so long ago; to see if they have changed.
And this is where the cliffhanger leaves us. Next week's portion, "Vayyiggash," concludes Joseph's exciting story.
Now then, there are several unresolved issues in here worthy of discourse. Political, theological, religious. Unfortunately, I don't have time to address them in depth, so I'll just raise some of these issues and leave you to ponder them. Let's start with the political.
The student of economic ethics might be enraged by this plan of Joseph's to have the government step in and so heavily tax the farmers. This is social welfare taken to authoritarian extremes. The one fifth tax, according to my sources, is double what was normally considered reasonable at the time. Why should the government feel the necessity to oversee such a massive redistribution system? Oh, sure, it may seem just to take when things are good and return when things are bad, but why must the government impose socialism? Why can't the people themselves "save for a rainy day"? Does the government consider its citizens too much like the grasshopper in the old ant-grasshopper fable? Or is this just another example of authoritarian taxation by a corrupt government looking to exploit their people and enrichthemselves, using a story about a famine seven years in the future as an excuse? Hmmm.... Maybe ancient Egypt really wasn't all that different from the here-and-now.
Next, the student of socio-political class development might rightly ask why would Pharaoh instantly trust Joseph, who to him is nothing more than a convicted Hebrew slave? The proof of Joseph's predictions are at least seven years in the coming. Why should Pharaoh put so much faith in him that he instantly raises Joseph to second-in-command? Well, certainly, if Pharaoh followed Joseph's plan, he would become more powerful and rich--the added taxation would be quite beneficial to him. Also, some historians believe that at this time the ruling family of Egypt were alien Hyksos, more inclined to accept foreigners, and so raising a foreigner to a high position would be a ethnic slap-in-the-face to the native Egyptians, which would be a good political statement for an alien ruler.
Now all this may sound a little cynical, attributing political and economic motives to a head-of-state. But one must not overlook the main focus of this section of the bible--Joseph himself. Joseph was a man who, by this point in his life, was humble and spiritual, honest and capable. The perfect man for the job. Notice how his first interpreting Pharaoh's dream immediately followed by his practical advice on how to deal with the problem makes him an extremely wise man in reconciling opposites. He masterfully blends the dreamer and the utilitarian. It isn't just simply that the dream is to be more than understood--that its warning must be heeded and action taken. What's more important in our understanding of Joseph is that he unites the spiritual world with the secular world; the sacred and the profane. This makes him a deep and complex man, worthy of being our hero. Worthy of God's favor.
Which brings us to an important theological question. When Pharaoh asks Joseph if he can tell him the meaning of his dream, Joseph replies he cannot, but that God will reveal the answer to him. Yet God does not speak. But if it is Joseph who interprets the dream alone, why give God the credit? Is he just being diplomatic? Just showing humility? No; Joseph is correct, if not specific. His ability to interpret dreams comes from God. God does not directly intervene and reveal to Joseph the meaning of dreams each time it is necessary to do so. Rather, God guides Joseph and gives him wisdom in this arena. It is a gift, a talent. Like an artist who is divinely inspired. I can tell you from personal experience, when I sit down to write a poem, there are times I feel the words and ideas are so powerful, they must only be coming from God. Without God, we are nothing; it is that spark, that divine inspiration, which allows us to transcend this crude and corporeal world, and go beyond into the eternal. We all have moments when we seem to reach for the ethereal. That's what art is. And interpreting dreams, like tapping into the cosmic consciousness, is an art. And that's what Joseph is doing, I believe. It is through God that we can all find the art to living.
And that brings us to the religious issue brought up in this passage; possibly the most important for those of us today. You see, Joseph is the first Diaspora Jew, in a sense. He's in exile from all others who share in his religion. When a slave in Potiphar's house, and in the prison, he retained his identity of being "the Hebrew." But when elevated to status of high Egyptian official, he assimilates. He takes on an Egyptian name, marries an Egyptian wife; he swears in the name of the Pharaoh, wears Egyptian clothing, dines in the Egyptian style. On the surface, he is so much an Egyptian that his brothers cannot suspect in their wildest dreams that this great Zaphenath- paneah is really Joseph. Some, particularly orthodox Hassidim, might say that this is such an offense against God and the Jewish religion that Joseph cannot be treated as a hero. But really, how significant is this "transgression"? His assimilation is only on the surface. Underneath, where it really counts, he still remains true to his family and to his God. He upholds the morals and ethical standards that Jewish religion so praises. And this is all done in the face of the "glorious" Egyptian culture which thoroughly saturated the environment in which he was living. To retain faith in the Hebrew God and Jewish identity under such circumstances is considered much more difficult than when surrounded by others of your religion.
I've been to Israel and noted how easy it is to flow along with the crowd and express Jewish identity there. How easy to keep kosher when all the restaurants serve only either dairy or meat; how easy to keep the Sabbath when the entire country shuts down on Saturday. Conformity in Israel means something very different from conformity here. Sure, we're all Americans here and on the surface we assimilate. We eat like Americans, we work like Americans, our cultural lifestyle choices reflect our American identity. On the surface, most American Jews look just like their Christian neighbors. But underneath, where it really counts, is where we are being tested. Our morals. Keeping the commandments. The Jewish ideals. That's what it means to live in the Diaspora. The challenge is not about the little things, but about the big things. This is where Joseph comes in, and the example he sets. And his sons, Ephriam and Manasseh.
The greatest blessing for a boy is to become like Ephriam and Manasseh who, raised in the seductive Egyptian culture, had the opportunity to be spoiled, yet remained loyal to their Hebrew roots and even taught others about the Hebrew God.
Well, none of this answers any of these important questions...just some thoughts I wanted to share. Hope I gave you something to think about.
Shabbat Shalom!