Parashat Vayeshev
November 27, 2021, 23 Kislev 5782
Torah: Genesis 37:1-40:23; Triennial 39:1-40:23
Haftarah: Amos 2:6-3:8
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In this week's Torah Sparks, you'll find a D'var Torah on the Parashah by Ilana Kurshan called "From Despair to Repair", Vered Hollander-Goldfarb poses questions titled "It’s All in The Telling" and Bex Stern Rosenblatt writes about "Reading Critically" in the Haftarah.
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From Despair to Repair
Ilana Kurshan
In this week’s parashah we read about Judah and his daughter-in-law Tamar, who tricks him into sleeping with her after she despairs of having a child with any of his sons. At first Judah marries off Tamar to his eldest son, Er. But then Er is killed off by God for his wickedness, which, according to the Talmud, refers to his refusal to inseminate Tamar lest she become pregnant and lose some of her beauty (Yevamot 34b). Judah then marries off Tamar to his second son, Onan. He too will not impregnate her, because according to the laws of levirate marriage, their child would bear his late older brother’s name, and he has no interest in providing offspring for his brother. Judah instructs Tamar to wait until his third son, Shelah, is old enough to marry her, but Tamar has given up on Judah’s sons as potential fathers for the children she desires. Instead, she dresses up as a prostitute and tricks Judah into sleeping with her, eventually giving birth to twin sons who, according to the midrash, become the progenitors of King David and the messianic line.
The story of Judah and Tamar is positioned surprisingly in the midst of the Joseph story, raising questions about why the Torah interrupted the narrative of one of Jacob’s younger sons to relay this tale about his older brother. At the beginning of the parashah, Joseph’s brothers grow increasingly irritated by their favored younger sibling, who mocks them with his striped tunic and his self-aggrandizing dreams; when they find him alone, they sell him to Ishmaelites, who sell him to Midianites, who in turn sell him to one of Pharaoh’s stewards in Egypt. At this point, the Torah relays the story of Judah and Tamar, before resuming the Joseph narrative with the words, “And Joseph was taken down to Egypt” (39:1), repeating what we already know in order to remind us where the story left off. Why does the Torah tell the story of Judah in the midst of the Joseph story, and why specifically at this moment in the narrative? A close look at the biblical story and the midrashic commentary suggests that the Torah is teaching a lesson about the relationship between despair and repair, and between spiritual descent and the promise of redemption.
As the midrash notes (Genesis Rabbah 85:2), a key term links the story of Joseph with the story of Judah. Just as Joseph is “brought down” to Egypt, the story of Judah is introduced with the words, “About that time Judah went down from his brothers” (38:1). Both Joseph and Judah are being brought low, but whereas Joseph is brought down to Egypt on account of his brothers’ cruelty, Judah goes down of his own volition. Moreover, Judah’s descent is not just physical but also spiritual; in forcing Tamar to wait in his home until allowing her to marry his third son, and then in succumbing to prostitution, he degrades himself morally, bringing himself down (Tanchuma Vayigash 9). Furthermore, though it is not mentioned in the midrash, the same Hebrew word for “go down” also appears two verses before the start of the story of Judah and Tamar, when Jacob sees his beloved son’s tunic covered in blood and refuses to be comforted, insisting that he will “go down” in mourning for his son to the netherworld of Sheol (37:35). Between the sale of Joseph, the degradation of Judah, and the grief of Jacob, each of these protagonists in the narrative of Genesis has reached a low point.
And yet as the midrash suggests, the story of Judah and Tamar is interpolated here not just because it is another low point for Jacob’s family, but also because it sows seeds of hope. The midrash (Genesis Rabbah 85:1) quotes a verse from Jeremiah which speaks of God as the ultimate omniscient narrator: “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future” (Jeremiah 29:11). As the midrash goes on to explain, while the brothers were busy selling Joseph and while Judah “went down” from his brothers, God was bringing the light of the Messiah.
Furthermore, as Nir Menussi notes in his book Who is She Who Arises (Maggid 2020, Hebrew), the story of Judah and Tamar will lead to a turning point not just for the people of Israel, but for Judah as well, who was brought low even before encountering Tamar. Although all the brothers were responsible for the sale of Joseph, Judah played a key role. At first the brothers wished to kill Joseph, but Reuben managed to convince them instead to throw him into the pit. After Reuben had tempered his brothers’ fury, Judah riled them up again, suggesting that they sell him to the passing Ishmaelite caravan. The rabbis argue in the midrash (Tanchuma Vayigash 9) that Judah had tremendous sway over his brothers; had he instead told them to raise Joseph out of the pit, they would have listened to him. In this sense, Judah’s irresponsible leadership was to blame for Joseph’s fate.
And yet in the story of Tamar, Judah learns to take responsibility for his actions and assume a more positive leadership role. When Tamar presents Judah with the evidence that he slept with her, he elects not to deny what he has done, but rather to publicly declare, “She is more righteous than I, because I did not give her to my son Shelah” (38:26). Judah owns up to his mistakes, and the rabbis praise him for “sanctifying God’s name in public” (Sotah 10b). As a result of his maturation, he will now be able to assume a leadership role later in the narrative, taking responsibility for his brother Benjamin’s safe return from Egypt (43:9) and speaking up to Joseph on behalf of all his brothers (44:18). From a moment of personal degradation, Judah will become the kind of leader from whom the kings of Israel descend.
In the midrash, the rabbis play on the similarity between the Torah’s terms for “descend” (yarad) and “rule” (rada) – suggesting that those experiences that bring us down also have the potential to lift us to great heights (Genesis Rabbah 8:12). As the juxtaposition of the stories and Judah and Joseph suggests, our exaltation may emerge from our degradation, like the light of day breaking forth from the darkness of night.
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It’s All in The Telling
Vered Hollander-Goldfarb
Text: Bereshit 39:7-20
7And it came to pass after these things that his master’s wife raised her eyes towards Joseph, and she said, “Lie with me.” 8But he refused… 11And it happened about this time, when Joseph went into the house to do his work, and none of the men of the house was inside, 12that she caught him by his garment, saying, “Lie with me.” But he left his garment in her hand and fled and ran outside. 13And so it was, when she saw that he had left his garment in her hand and fled outside, 14that she called to the men of her house and spoke to them, saying, “See, he has brought in to us a Hebrew to mock us. He came to me to lie with me, and I cried out with a loud voice. 15And so it was, when he heard that I lifted my voice and cried out, that he left his garment with me, and fled and went outside.” 16And she kept his garment with her until his master came home. 17Then she spoke to him with words like these, saying, “The Hebrew servant whom you brought to us came to me to mock me; 18so it was, as I lifted my voice and cried out, that he left his garment with me and fled outside.” 19So it was, when his master heard the words which his wife spoke to him, saying, “Your servant did to me after this manner,” that his anger was aroused. 20Then Joseph’s master took him and put him into the prison, a place where the king’s prisoners were confined. And he was there in the prison.
· Compare the way Potiphar’s (Joseph’s master) wife presents the event that presumably happened to the household staff and the way she presents it to her husband. Focus on the differences: What does she call Joseph each time? Which telling is more dramatic? Where does she position herself in each story in relation to the audience? How do these differences cater to the different audiences?
· Why do you think that she told the household staff about what happened, and why before telling Potiphar?
· Who is implicitly responsible for Joseph’s existence in the household, according to Potiphar’s wife?
· What does Joseph’s master do with him following this? What did you expect him to do?
· Who is Joseph’s master angry with? Why?
Commentary: Seforno Bereshit 39:19
His anger was aroused - …for indeed his anger was not aroused by Joseph for this, for he believed Joseph more, but he placed him in prison to show that he believed her for her honor.
· How do Potiphar's actions (or inaction) at the end of the story support Seforno's comment?
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Reading Critically
Bex Stern Rosenblatt
Many of our sacred texts are deeply unsettling. Our matriarchs and patriarchs are deeply flawed people. Their stories do not present obvious morals or easy takeaways. This is especially true in Genesis. We read stories of rape, murder, deceit, and incest. This week’s parashah is especially difficult. As we begin both the epic story of Joseph and the story of the twelve brothers who will become the tribes of Israel, not a single person conducts themselves in a way we would like to emulate. On the one hand, this is good storytelling. If we begin with drama and trouble, we can only improve as the story continues. We have conflict that begs for a resolution, characters that need to grow and change. But on the other hand, we have horribly disturbing stories revealing aspects of human nature we would rather not face.
It’s some consolation to know that the Tanakh itself is also disturbed by the stories we read in Genesis. In this week’s haftarah, Amos 2:6 - 3:8, we find not only reference to the stories in this week’s parashah, but also condemnation of some of the behavior present in the stories. We read of God’s promise to punish Israel because of Israel’s behavior. As Robert Alter translates Amos 2:6-7,
“For three trespasses of Israel, and for four, I will not turn it back— for their selling the just man for silver and the needy for sandals. Who trample the head of the needy in the dust of the ground and pervert the way of the poor. And a man and his father go to the same girl to profane My holy name.”
We have seen a man sold. Joseph’s brothers sell him to traders for silver. They had planned on killing him, so it’s a definite improvement. But watching brother sell brother, watching our ancestors behave in such a way, is horrible. However, the text of Amos does not totally reflect the story of Genesis 37. The man sold in the haftarah is described as “just,” as tzadik. We know that word from Genesis. Noah is described that way. Abraham bargains with God about finding fifty just people in Sodom. But nowhere is Joseph described as just. He is described as hated, as condemned by father and brothers. He is, after all, the sort of person whom a loving father chooses to send to murderous brothers. So why does the haftarah need to present this man as just? What happens to the story when we need to read Joseph as the hero, the role model, the good guy?
The haftarah does the same to the story of Tamar. In this week’s parashah, we read the incredibly complicated tale of Tamar duping her father-in-law, Judah, into getting her pregnant in order to continue the line of her dead husband. Tamar has an incredible amount of agency in this story. Even as she is threatened with death by burning for committing adultery, Tamar manages to keep her cool and outsmart the system to claim what is rightfully hers. But it remains a very unpleasant tale. In order to succeed, Tamar has to sleep with the father of her two dead husbands. The retelling in the haftarah erases Tamar’s role. She becomes a “girl,” frequented by a man and his father. She is acted upon rather than being the driver of the narrative, becoming little more than a way to demonstrate the unethical behavior of the players who matter.
As a prophetic text, Amos dictates what behavior should look like. We are told explicitly how not to act and what sort of consequences our actions will bring. We get clear instruction about right and wrong without any of the moral ambiguity of Genesis. And yet, when we read our own lives, things are not so clear cut. Life can look a lot more like the mess of Genesis than the strict reward and punishment system of Amos. While it is helpful to use Amos to allow us to critique behavior in Genesis, we can also use Genesis to remind ourselves that we will not always be able to be the tzadik.
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