Adapted by Channie Koplowitz Stein
Parshat Vayeshev is filled with the tragedies and traumas of Yaakov Avinu and his family: The brothers are selling Yosef, Yaakov Avinu, having been shown Yosef’s bloody clothing, is inconsolable, and the parsha ends with Yosef Hatzakikin Egypt as a slave in the home of Potiphar. In the midst of all this, the Torah digresses to tell us that Yehudah went down from his brothers, married, and had a family. He then married off a son who subsequently died. He married off the second son in a levirate marriage to his first son’s wife, Tamar. When this son also died, Yehudah sent Tamar back to her father’s house to await marriage to the youngest son.
After a reasonable time had passed and the third son had not married her, Tamar took matters into her own hands. Disguised and waiting at a crossroads, Tamar meets Yehudah. Yehudah believes her to be a prostitute, has relations with her, and unknowingly impregnates Tamar with twins. When Yehudah realizes he himself is the father, he confesses, saves Tamar from execution, and the twins, Peretz and Zerach are born.
While this entire interlude may indeed be fascinating, what relevance does it have at this particular juncture? The medrash gives us a simple answer which begs further exploration. Everyone in the family seems to be involved in his own personal saga, but Hashem too was busy. In the midst of all this, Hashem was busily compounding the cure for the terrible “diseases” which were to befall Bnei Yisroel. Hashem was laying the plans for the birth of Moshiach who would redeem Bnei Yisroel in the final redemption.
The Ner Uziel explains that Hashem established a fail safe mechanism to save Bnei Yisroel should we sin egregiously. If we do teshuvah, the punishments would be voided, but if we fail to do teshuvah, the fail safe mechanism kicks in to save us. Yosef’s going down to Egypt was the beginning of our first exile, and Yehudah’s consorting with Tamar sowed the seeds of our final redemption, for from Tamar, through Peretz, King David, and ultimately Moshiach ben David, would descend. While we think we are going about our individual lives, Hashem is weaving the threads together into the tapestry of the history He is creating. Everything we do, writes Rabbi Asher Weiss, is spun by Hashem to be part of this tapestry.
In this context, Rabbi Mintzberg, the Ben Melech, proves that Hashem is always in charge. There are times when His presence is reveale
d in the open, supernatural miracles of our history, from our inception with the miraculous conceptions and births of our Patriarchs, to the plagues and redemption from Egypt, to the capture of the Land under Joshua. But the seemingly natural progress of human interaction is also orchestrated by Hakodosh Boruch Hu. That Yitzchak Avinu blessed Yaakov Avinu instead of Esau seems to be the result of Rivkah’ Imenu’s machinations. Yet Hashem was the real Planner. That Yaakov Avinu married Leah first may have been the result of Lavan’s deception, but was nevertheless part of Hashem’s plan. It is through Leah that royalty descends, as it does from Ruth, the Moabite convert who happens to wander into the field of Boaz to glean. We act, but we seldom see where the stitches of our actions fall in the complete tapestry.
Nevertheless, the whole episode with Yehudah and Tamar seems somewhat lurid. Why is so much of the Messianic ancestry couched in such seemingly dark backgrounds and times of concealment of God’s Presence? Alshich Hakadosh, posits that extremely sacred objects must be hidden in the most mundane and unholy of places to sidetrack the Satan from suspecting their presence. The sparks for Moshiach were first hidden in the seemingly lurid acts of Lot’s daughters, then in the episode of Yehudah and Tamar, and finally within Ruth, a Moabite. [This would be similar to hiding valuables in a plain, brown paper bag to thwart thieves. CKS]
Nevertheless, asks the Sifsei Chaim, why do these seeds of redemption need to be planted in the dark times of concealment? When Things appear darkest, writes Rabbi Friedlander citing the Ramchal, that’s when Hashem is actually installing the batteries to shine the greatest light. It is by holding on to our faith during these challenges that we earn the light Hashem wishes to shine on us. Without this merit, every one of our misdeeds would be magnified, and the Satan would challenge the flow of goodness. The challenges we face lessen our accountability. The darkness of evening and night must precede the light of morning. Hope, light and redemption must grow from the darkness of despair.
It is brokenness itself that generates rebirth, notes the Netivot Shalom. It is from the rotting seed that the new plant grows, from the seemingly “rotten” seeds that Moshiach will eventually emerge.
It is within this same context that Hashem praises Moshe Rabbenu Rabbenu when he smashed those first luchot. From those broken Tablets and the despair of Bnei Yisroel’s emerged the hope that donning sackcloth in teshuvah would bring God’s presence back to reside within Bnei Yisroel, continues the Slonimer Rebbe. Despite everything, in deepest despair Bnei Yisroel refused to give up hope.
This indeed was the basis of Yaakov Avinu’s refusal to be comforted at the alleged death of Yosef. If he were resigned to Yosef’s death, he could be comforted, but deep down, he still held out hope and faith that Yosef Hatzakik was alive.
The worst that can happen to a Jew is that he loses hope. If you keep believing, there will be some redemption, albeit it may differ from the one you desired. Chanukah especially, but Purim as well, is perhaps the most obvious example of this premise. How could a band of thirteen Jews go up against the greatest empire of the era, an empire with an army of thousands supported by powerful elephants, the virtual tanks of the time? That band of rebels had to have hope and faith the Redeemer, concealed in His abode on high. Every year, when we remember the feat of that small band of Maccabees in those days, we must renew our hope and strengthen our faith in these times.
Rabbi Schlesinger in Eleh Hadvorim asks an interesting question. Of all the mitzvoth, why is it only Chanukah that we are commanded to publicize as miraculous? We generally place the menorah in our windows or doorways so that the light can be seen in the darkness outside. When there is darkness, explains Rav Schlesinger, we must believe in the coming light. In the darkness of our current golus/exile, we must believe in the coming of Moshiach. The medrash alludes to the connection with the origins of Moshiach in this parsha. Moshi”yach is an acronym for madlikim shmonat yemei Chanukah/[We] light [for] the eight days of Chanukah.
This brings us to contemplate a new perspective on the insertion of the Yehudah episode at this juncture. While all the other members of the Israel family were involved in some form of the darkness of mourning, writes Rabbi Scheinerman in Ohel Moshe Rabbenu, it was only Yehudah whom the brothers had pushed down from his position of authority who moved forward with hope and started a new family. That characteristic of hope in the face of despair is a major characteristic of Jews who are known by the name Yehudim/Jewdim.
Yehudah reinforces that impression of his persona when the viceroy of Egypt, Yosef Hatzakikin disguise, accuses Binyamin of having stolen the royal goblet and all seems lost. While the brothers rend their garments, Yehudah steps forth to argue the case before Yosef, hoping for salvation. It is Yehudah’s pleas that arouse Yosef’s compassion to reveal himself to his brothers. Yehudah always drives forward doe future success, looking forward, not constantly looking back to the past in a rear view mirror that would inevitably invite a crash.
Yehudah did not let despair gain complete control over him. When he thought he had lost everything with the grief his advice to sell Yosef Hatzakik generated, he decided to start life anew and serve Hashem with the first mitzvah, with marriage and having children. This was the faith Hashem rewarded by planting the seed of Moshiach through Yehudah.
It is behind the scenes, in concealment, that Hashem moves His plan forward. If the butler forgets about Yosef Hatzakik after being released from prison, Hashem doesn’t forget him. In every situation, Hashem still watches waits for the proper time for salvation. And Rabbi Svei notes that Yosef Hatzakik himself was also waiting. Yosef Hatzakikwas waiting for the fulfillment of His dreams. And while Hashem watches and waits, Moshe Rabbenu, saved from the Nile’s waters, also waits in the house of Yitro. He is waiting for the prophecies of Miriam to be actualized. He watches to see the message of the burning bush. When Hashem calls out to him, Moshe Rabbenu is ready and immediately responds, “Hinenei/here I am.”
Tamar also knew her destiny, to be the ancestress of Moshiach. She waited and acted. So did those following in that line, Ruth and King David. Each waited and anticipated the moment they would be called upon to play their role in the panorama of history.
But that mindset doesn’t end in Biblical times. Out of the ashes of the Holocaust, Rav Aaron Kotler zt”l, the Satmar Rebbe zt”l and other Rebbeim rebuilt world Judaism and Torah institutions on new shores. They knew they were saved for a purpose. They would not give in to despair; they would build on faith and hope. We need to build on that same faith and hope, and await the coming of Moshiach in great anticipation.
Today, especially during Chanukah, we must ask ourselves what we can do to advance the coming of the Moshiach. We can certainly pray, but is there something I can also do toward that goal?
Rabbi Gladstein quotes the Sefat Emet who notes that Chanukah means inauguration, for it is not the end of a historical era, but the beginning of the era to herald the coming of the Messiah.
And what will that time be like? Rabbi Mintzberg paints a beautiful picture of those times whose hidden light was revealed in that first Chanukah and is hidden every year in our Chanukah candles. That is the perfection of nature itself, as a component of the primal light, concealed since creation. Nature itself will give forth bountiful fruit and harvest without the toil now necessary, Childbirth itself will be eased. In this context, the Maccabees’ victory, as was the burning of the oil for eight days, was natural and man made, not miraculous, for it was a pre-vision of the world in the Messianic era.
Time itself takes on a different dimension in the Messianic era, writes Rabbi Wolfson. When the Sages say that the holiday derives its name from the date of the Maccabees’ victory, chanu chof heh/[they] rested on the twenty fifth day [of Kislev], they could not mean that all eight days would be represented by the first day. Rather, posits Rabbi Wolfson, they meant that time itself was changed, and a year will be counted as one day. The oil lasting eight days, according to this calculation, was not a miracle, but simply a precursor of what to expect as nature in Messianic times. The Maccabees could see all eight days in one day.
In this long and bitter golus, our homes with our personal menorahs become a personal Beit Hamikdosh. Look at the candles and get a glimpse and taste of that future, beautiful era. Each of us has the potential to be a symbolic Eliyahu Hanavi, to hasten and proclaim the coming of Moshiach. We can build toward the future with hope and faith, as did Yehudah, the tribal patriarch for whom our people are named.