Thoughts on parashat Vayeshev.

The Torah portion for this week starts with the story of Jacob settling in Hebron with his twelve sons. His favorite son is seventeen-year-old Joseph, with whom his brothers are jealous for the preferential treatment he receives from his father. To make matters worse, Joseph relates to his brothers two of his dreams which foretell that he is destined to rule over them which obviously increases their envy and hatred. At first they plan to kill him but instead humiliate him and sell him into slavery in Egypt.

We can only imagine the pain, grief, sense of hopelessness and anger Joseph experienced. In similar situations people, depending on their temperament, want revenge, to reprimand and/or seek justice. Joseph didn’t have any means to sue his brothers for all the pain, humiliation and harm they had inflicted upon him. He could not sue his brothers in any earthly court for the damage they had done to him. He had to endure all the trauma and suffering in the terrible conditions of an Egyptian prison, for a long time, until he received his final compensation from the higher, Divine court. In my opinion, this made his further act of forgiveness possible and that’s one of the messages hidden between the verses of this biblical story. 

When it comes to hidden messages, it should be mentioned that there is another story ‘embedded’ into Joseph’s story, namely the story of (Judah and) Tamar, that seemingly has nothing to do with it. Both stories, however, do have a common denominator, as I will explain at the end of my d’var Torah. People often find the story of Tamar a kind of ‘impure’ due to the motif of prostitution in it. But it’s really a superficial impression. Tamar has not been and is not a harlot. She disguised herself as a harlot only once, insidiously, in retaliation for the wicked actions of Judah. Initially these actions were wicked only from her perspective – but ultimately from the divine perspective as well.

If we take into consideration the cultural realities of the world she lived in, we’ll recognize that her actions served a certain aim and were in fact rational. Women who did not have children had a much lower status than women who have become mothers. Even many centuries later, in Mishnaic and subsequent times (the first centuries of the Christian era) the value of a woman was determined by whether she was fertile, and the only way to prove that was by having a child. Therefore, Tamar needed a son. Her first husband, Er, had died before he was able to make her pregnant. His brother, Onan, is evading the obligations he has towards his brother’s wife according to the tradition of the Levirate marriage (and it was for this sin that he faced the most severe punishment, and not for onanism, as it is still commonly believed.) 

Her father-in-law, Judah, refuses to provide her with any further help. In such a situation, when all the men close to her are shunning their responsibilities, Tamar undertakes radical measures to secure what she believes in and what she deserves. One may not like the method she chose, but I believe we can admire her for her courage, shrewdness and determination in her struggle against certain social standards which existed at the time, as expressed in the following verse: 

Then Judah said to his daughter-in-law Tamar, “Stay as a widow in your father’s house until my son Shelah grows up”— for he thought, “He too might die like his brothers.” (Gen 38:11)

In addition, her actions have serious further consequences: Tamar exposes the hypocrisy of Judah, who at first condemns her to death – he orders that she be burnt alive (which was an unbelievably severe punishment even by the standards held in those times in the Middle East), but afterwards he completely changes his mind when it turns out that the children which Tamar is carrying in her womb are his own. Judah caves in under the pressure exerted by the circumstances, admitting that Tamar behaved more justly than he did, for which he  ultimately deserves praise. And, most importantly, Tamar bears two sons: Perez and Zerah, and King David will in fact descend from the line of Perez. Perhaps this is precisely the reason why rabbinical tradition treats Tamar with respect and praises her, comparing her to the matriarch Rebecca. Midrash Bereshit Rabbah even goes as far as to say that God had purposefully sent an angel whose job was to make sure that Judah would choose Tamar dressed as a harlot instead of a random harlot whom he could have met that day. 

What do the characters of Joseph and Tamar have in common? They were both victims of injustice. They were both humiliated, both of them had to endure this humiliation for a long time before finally being liberated by God. They are set free because they were righteous. They both knew what they wanted and they were both honest: Joseph in his words, Tamar in his behavior. They were both pursuing the right, worthy goals, although might not always have had full awareness of it. They were helped by God, justified, liberated, and exalted. Then they both perform an act of forgiveness. In the story of Joseph it is presented explicitly, in the story of Tamar – implicitly: she had to forgive Judah the actions that almost led to her death in order to live with him and raise his children later.

In my opinion, it is precisely the divine exaltation, justification and consolation that makes the act of forgiveness possible. Therefore, I believe that we should never separate forgiveness from the sense of justice experienced in a particular situation. There are cases where, without satisfying the need for justice, a real and true forgiveness (which should not be confused with the mere act of forgetting) is difficult, often impossible, and sometimes unnecessary, harmful. We should not force people to forgive at all costs, we should not make forgiveness a categorical imperative.

There are situations in which justice must triumph first and then the forgiveness comes almost spontaneously. We cannot fake it: forgiveness is only a function of justice, not a superior value over it. Forgiveness is (or at least should be) a one-time action. Justice is often a very complex thing: many different circumstances must intertwine; they are often a result of various human actions, often seemingly not related to each other. Natural processes, some of which can be considered divine, also play a role in it. So, if ultimate and true justice does exist, it definitely is of a cosmic nature.

 

Shabbat shalom!

 

 

 

It would really be appreciated if you could share this article and spread the word. Toda raba