vayigash
parasha vayigash, Genesis chapters 44—47
menu
and thoughts…
Vayigash
And he approaches…
So, who is approaching what, or whom?
For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. My chemistry teacher told me that.
The universe’s natural state is balance, so it is constantly seeking homeostasis. This is true of all things, great and small. In our own lives, if we don’t find balance, we lose our footing and can go off the deep end.
Things that happen in the now are often a course correction to balance something that happened before.
We open with a dramatic, traumatic scene:
Joseph, ruler of all Egypt, is still unrecognized by his brothers, who stand before him shaking in their shoes. Benjamin has been caught with the silver goblet and is now subject to being imprisoned in Egypt. And we know that Benjamin is innocent—it’s Joseph who planted it in his youngest brother’s pack.
So what’s happening here?
On that fateful day so long ago, Reuben had a secret plan to rescue Joseph from the pit, where they had him trapped while they enjoyed a nice lunch. But Reuben never spoke up during the saga, and by the time he was ready to put his plan into action, Joseph was gone.
Then Judah convinced the others to sell, rather than kill Joseph.
All of them had been in on the lie they told to their father, that Joseph had been torn apart by a wild beast. All of them had seen Jacob’s reaction to losing Joseph, how his grieving was without end and continued to that day. Yet, they kept their secret.
Did they resent their father that much? Were they that angry, that jealous of their younger brother—a younger brother who could be quite obnoxious and full of himself—that they were willing to cause their father so much pain?
And now, Judah, and only Judah, approached Joseph.
Let’s go back:
Talk about a dysfunctional family! Our foreparents were not perfect people.
Jacob totally blew it. His love for Rachel was clearly so much greater than his love for Leah. I can only begin to imagine the pain Leah lived with every day, desperately wanting the love of her husband while watching him fawn over her beautiful younger sister. And giving him so many children and watching them all be set aside when at last Rachel bore him a son.
It’s never a good thing when a parent favors one child over the others, and even worse when that parent makes no bones about letting them all know it.
The pain Jacob caused to Leah and to his other sons was immeasurable. The boys grew up with that example.
But then, Jacob came from parents who each clearly favored one child over the other. Children learn what they live.
Back to our opening scene:
Joseph is ruler of all Egypt. He’s changed his name, his hairstyle, his manner of dressing and speaking. He’s not even recognizable to his brothers.
But Joseph’s outer changes were just that—superficial. Behind his Egyptian mannerisms and appearance, he was still true to his God. And Joseph changed in more important ways.
His years as a slave and a prisoner had humbled him. And while he became a slave through no action of his own, he became a prisoner by choice. He upheld his morality and refused to touch his owner’s wife, even to his own peril. (That said, had he been caught finagling his owner’s wife, it would not have gone well for him, either.)
Joseph continued to do right, regardless of the actions and reactions of others, and he was fearless in telling the truth, crediting God, and not his own power, for his wisdom and understanding.
His many responsibilities, as a leader and as a husband and father, matured him.
And now, with his brothers before him, he has a choice to make. He could keep his identity secret and treat them as any other supplicants from other lands. Or, he could reveal himself.
He wonders—have they changed, or are they still the same selfish bums who sold him into slavery in the first place? How will they now react? Will they protest innocence? Will they abandon Benjamin to his fate and escape with their own lives?
Judah approaches. Judah moves forward. Only Judah. Maybe Reuben was thinking of a plan, but like on that fateful day, he did nothing.
It was Judah who spoke up, putting his own life on the line.
The brothers all knew that if they returned without Benjamin, it would be the death of Jacob. But only Judah spoke up, offering himself in exchange for his youngest brother.
And that was enough for Joseph, who then revealed himself and sent them to go home, collect their father and the rest of the family, and return to live in the land of Goshen where they would lack for nothing. Forgiveness all around.
And don’t argue on the way home, Joseph tells them. No finger pointing, no passing the blame.
Just let it rest. And go get Dad.
Balance is restored, and Judah becomes the spokesman for the family, not Reuben, who was the oldest. Hence, the Royal Davidic line is through the tribe of Judah. Hence, we are Jews, not Rubenites.
Just before they climb into the wagons to head off to Egypt, God comes to Israel in a vision. God says, “Jacob! Jacob! I am the God of Abraham and the God of Isaac.”
Isn’t it just a little strange? Why does God need to introduce Godself to him? Hasn’t Jacob had enough encounters with God to know Who is speaking to him? And curiously, God repeats the promise of the covenant to him, the one God first made with Abraham and then again with Isaac (who, by the way received the same introduction…as if the guy who came within seconds of being slaughtered wouldn’t know who God is).
I’m quite sure that Israel has heard all about this covenant from his father and his grandfather and does not need to have it reiterated to him. After all, hadn’t he pulled a fast one to get to be the keeper of said covenant?
But it’s been 20 years since Jacob has been in touch with God—if he had maintained that relationship, he would have known that Joseph lived. So God starts with the introduction.
And then God tacks on a new promise of reassurance saying, “Do not be afraid of going down to Egypt, for there I will make you into a great nation. I will go down with you to Egypt and I will also bring you up…”
OK. Skip ahead a couple hundred years:
Just as those of us whose grandparents or great-grandparents came to the U.S. are now bona fide Americans, the Israelites have become Egyptians. Almost.
Because the majority of Americans are Christian, American culture is at its root based on Christian concepts. Those of us American Jews who were not raised in observant families are immersed in that culture, and without a strong knowledge of Jewish teachings we unwittingly absorb some of those concepts without realizing that they’re different from our own.
So we have to ask, what must it have been like for these Israelites, who’d been surrounded by the many false gods of Egypt for multiple generations?
God decides it’s time to bring them back up from Egypt—quickly, before they’re totally lost forever.
And here’s this guy, Moshe:
An Israelite who’d been raised under Pharaoh’s roof, and was now married to a woman whose father was the head priest of Midian. The slave turned prince turned fugitive was now a shepherd for his father-in-law.
Moshe is clearly invested in those sheep. Not only does he care about them collectively, he cares enough about each individual to run back to find one lamb that’s been left behind.
Hmmmm… Seems like a good choice when you need someone to shepherd a motley nation of slaves…
Moshe sees a shrub that seems to be on fire, but is not being consumed. And Moshe instantly gets it. He’s on holy ground. When God sees that Moshe is aware that this is a holy encounter, God speaks directly to him from the flames.
Now, it makes sense that Moshe needs to be told exactly who is addressing him, and so God repeats the familiar introduction, "I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob." God tells Moshe that God is come to bring the children of Israel up from Egypt, and gives Moshe two directives—he’s to go to Pharaoh and demand the release of his people, and to go to the people and fill them in on what’s happening. Moshe does not want the gig. God insists and he relents, begrudgingly. But Moshe has to ask, “when I come to the children of Israel, and I say to them that the God of their fathers has sent me to them, they’re going to say to me, 'What God is this who sent you? What is the name of this God?” Moshe needs to ask, “What shall I say to them?"
I have to ask:
If God has gone down to Egypt with Jacob and his family and has promised that in time God will bring them back up, why would the Israelites need to ask what this God’s name is? Wouldn’t they know this God, and this promise? Wouldn’t it be the number one teaching that parents would pass to their children? The one thing that would give them hope to keep on keeping on?
By asking God’s name we can infer that they didn’t know their God had descended with them and intended to bring them up. They didn’t know of the covenant (or at least most of them didn’t.) *
Joseph had seen to it that his family was settled in the land of Goshen, somewhat separate from the majority of Egyptians, so that they would be able to retain their tribal identity. He wanted to make sure that they would not become so dispersed among the Egyptians that they would forget, not only the name of their God, but the names of their forefathers. And it did help. They knew they were a distinct group— the Egyptians, and Pharaoh himself, saw them that way, as well. They had managed to hang on to a number of their traditions and to their language. But, they were not altogether immune to the influence of their neighbors and the culture in which they lived. The gods of the Egyptians were common household names, even to the Israelites. When Moshe came to give them a message from God, they had to ask, which god? After all, they knew Isis, Osiris, Horus, Amun, Ra, Hathor, Bastet, Thoth, Anubis, and so many others. We know what name God gives Moshe in answer to the question—I am that I am. I will be as I will be.
And today, how many American Jews know little if anything about their God? How many reject the very idea of God because their understanding of God is skewed toward the Christian idea of Who/What God is, and that imagery makes no sense to them, is foreign to the way Jews think? And so we have a nation of proud Jews who consider themselves to be atheists or agnostics because they’ve never encountered the God of their foremothers and forefathers. Or, a nation of proud Jews who love their culture but have found their spirituality in foreign gods.
Some of us, miraculously, find our way home, but not without a whole lot of earnest searching and study.
It doesn’t take long for people to forget who they are. Let’s say a Jewish man marries a woman who isn’t Jewish. She converts to please his parents, but not wholeheartedly, and so, while their daughters are Jewish, they’re raised without any religious observance of any kind. They have a totally secular upbringing. Both daughters marry non-Jewish men. Technically, their children are Jewish, but they might not know it. Chances are, their grandchildren would be shocked to learn that they’re Jewish.
So, what now?
We wait.
Those who know something reach out as much as they can, to teach.
But ultimately, we’re waiting for our next great leader, the next Moshe, who will open the eyes of the world to truth and understanding, who will partner with God to bring us up out of this narrow place of darkness, our present day Mitzrayim, and lead us to Etz Hayim—the place of light.
We wait.
And while we’re waiting….
So, what shall we eat?
I’m thinking that a menu that reminds us of where our ancestral home lies, no matter what culture any of us are living in now, could be the way to go tonight. And so, a vegetarian Israeli dinner is taking form in my mind…
I love falafel, and I really love the falafel recipe that I’ve developed. They’re crispy on the outside, light and tender on the inside, gorgeously green, nicely spiced, and need no flour to hold them together. My version has a few surprising extra ingredients that add to the flavor and also add some extra nutrition.
They’ll be served with tahini sauce, harissa, and garnishes, such as sour pickles, and brilliantly pink pickled turnips (say that three times fast).
The Mejadra recipe is the one from the cookbook, “Jerusalem,” by Sami Tamimi and Yotam Ottolenghi.
Instead of making traditional hummus, which would be an expected part of this spread, I decided to eliminate the chickpeas (since we’ve got plenty of those in the falafel), and try a little twist—white bean hummus shares a plate with black bean hummus for a striking presentation. You’ll see how changing up the types of beans changes the flavor of the exact same recipe.
Baba ganoush has to be a part of this mezze, because it’s my favorite. (All things eggplant are my favorite.)
The butternut dip is sweet with date syrup, tart with pomegranate molasses, and spiced with a touch of curry. Pomegranate jewels are a nice garnish.
The brownie bars are a recipe right off the back of a box of Ghiradelli brownie mix.
Menu for Vayigash