Our Inner World

by Rabbi Moshe Krieger, Yeshivas Bircas HaTorah (www.bircas.org)

The Torah describes the long-awaited reunion between Yosef and his father Yaakov. After twenty-two years apart, Yosef goes out to meet him in Goshen. The pasuk says, “Vayeira elav” — he appeared to him (Bereishis 46:29).

Rashi comments: “Yosef nirah el aviv” — Yosef appeared to his father. At first glance, Rashi seems to be repeating the words of the pasuk. The Torah already told us that Yosef appeared to Yaakov. What is Rashi adding?

Rav Eliyahu Lopian explains that Rashi is teaching us something very subtle and very deep about Yosef’s inner world at that moment. There are two different reasons why a son who has not seen his father for many years might desperately want to meet him. One reason is personal: he longs to see his father again. He misses him. He wants to reconnect. The second reason is outward-focused: his father has suffered for years, mourning him, refusing to be comforted, and now he wants to give his father joy, relief, and healing.

Both reasons are good. Both are legitimate. Wanting to see one’s father is not selfish; it is natural and even a mitzvah. Wanting to bring comfort to one’s father is also a mitzvah. But Rav Lopian says that Yosef saw something deeper. He understood that when two motivations coexist, even when both are positive, one inevitably weakens the other. If I am thinking about myself — even in a holy way — I am not fully thinking about the other. Yosef wanted this meeting to be purely for his father’s sake.

That is what Rashi is revealing. “Yosef nirah el aviv” means that Yosef erased himself from the picture. He suppressed his own emotional longing and focused entirely on Yaakov. This encounter was not about Yosef’s feelings; it was about the mitzvah of kibud av va’em in its purest form. Yosef chose the higher ratzon – the more refined motivation – even though the other was also good.

Rav Lopian stresses that this level is extraordinarily high. Yosef was not choosing between good and bad, or between mitzvah and aveirah. He was choosing between two good motivations and refining himself to act from the purer one. That is the level of a tzaddik.

But Rav Lopian adds that even though we are not on Yosef’s level, this teaching is still very relevant to us. We may not often face two completely positive motivations, but very often our ratzon is mostly good with a small mixture of something unhealthy inside. A trace of ego.  A bit of anger.   A hint of jealousy.  A subtle desire for recognition. The action itself may be a mitzvah, and the overall intention may be correct, but there is a small middah ra’ah mixed in.

That small impurity cannot be ignored. The Torah obligates us to notice it and work on it. Leaving it untouched allows the yetzer hara to hide inside something that otherwise looks virtuous.

Rav Lopian illustrates this with a well-known Gemara. The Gemara in Bava Metzia (32b) discusses two mitzvos: prikah — unloading an animal that is struggling under its burden, and te’inah — helping load an animal. Normally, prikah comes first, because it relieves suffering, including tza’ar ba’alei chayim. But the Gemara introduces a complication. What if the person who needs prikah is someone you love, and the person who needs te’inah is a sonei — someone you dislike?

The Gemara rules that you should help the sonei first. Why? Because helping him forces you to confront and weaken your inner hatred. This is a direct battle with the yetzer hara.

The Gemara later explains (Pesachim 113b) that this hatred is not baseless. It refers to someone who acted improperly, a ba’al aveirah, whom halachah allows one to dislike. Tosafos adds that although the initial dislike may have been justified, once the other person begins to hate you back, additional personal hatred creeps in — and that extra hatred is forbidden.

Even when the majority of the feeling is permitted, the small forbidden addition must be uprooted. And the Torah is willing to push aside the usual priority of prikah — even with tza’ar ba’alei chayim involved — in order to force a person to confront and weaken that inner flaw.

How does one work on such things? Rav Lopian says there are many paths: learning sifrei mussar, davening for help, speaking honestly to oneself. But the Torah is revealing a powerful tool: action itself. Doing something that contradicts your negative feeling weakens it. When you act against hatred, the heart slowly follows.

This idea is illustrated beautifully by a story about Rav Yisrael Salanter. Once, a young man behaved rudely toward him on a train, not realizing who he was. Later, when he discovered that he had insulted Rav Yisrael Salanter, he was devastated and begged forgiveness. Rav Yisrael immediately forgave him and then went far beyond that. He helped him prepare for exams, guided him, and worked to secure him a position. When the young man asked why he was doing so much, Rav Yisrael explained: “I forgave you, but perhaps a trace of resentment remains in my heart. I am doing all this to uproot it completely.”

Rav Shlomo Wolbe expands this idea. Working against negative middos is essential, but so is strengthening positive ratzonos. A person must actively build desire for good. Before davening, pause and remind yourself that you want closeness to Hashem. Before doing chesed, remind yourself that you want to truly help another Jew. Strengthening the ratzon gives the action depth and staying power.

This is connected to the Gemara in Yoma (38B): haba litaher mesayin oso — one who comes to purify himself is helped. Rav Wolbe explains that haba litaher does not mean someone who vaguely wishes to improve. It means someone with a strong, clarified desire. The help from Heaven comes in proportion to the strength of the ratzon. If a person gives up easily, it is not because Hashem did not help; it is because the ratzon was weak.

This idea appears in a striking story about Rav Meir Simcha of Dvinsk. When he and his chavrusa struggled with a difficult sugya, he suggested stopping to daven. Not to ask for understanding, but to ask for greater ahavas Torah. “If we truly want Torah,” he said, “Hashem will give us the understanding automatically.” Like a baby who cries sincerely and is understood without words, a strong ratzon speaks for itself.

May we merit to work on strengthening our retzonos and get closer to Hashem.