פרשת ויגש
In this week’s Parsha, the electrifying episode between Yosef and his brothers finally comes a climax with Yosef revealing himself to his siblings with the statement, “I am Yosef. Is my father still alive”? Needless to say, the brothers at this point were literally speechless as they digested the full import of Yosef’s words. R’ Yerucham Levovoitz, the famous Mashgiach of the Mir Yeshiva used to explain that there is very important lesson to be learned from the way that Yosef finally exposed his secret. We all know that the Shulchan Aruch teaches us the laws of repentance, and how to properly atone for a misstep that was committed. If a person sinned only against Hashem, then he need only perform the three requisite steps for Teshuva, and we are taught by Chazal that his return to Hashem, if it is sincere, will fully atone for his sins. However, if a person sinned between man and his fellow Jew, than in addition to these three steps, he must also ask forgiveness from the victim he has wronged. But R’ Yerucham asks, where is the Shulchan Aruch for the person being
asked for forgiveness? This, he explains, is learned from Yosef Hatzadik, and this particular interaction with his brothers.
When someone wrongs us, there is a natural human tendency to want to harbor resentment against them in our hearts and it is very difficult to let go of that resentment. Deep in our hearts, we want them to always feel guilty for what they have done, and that offers us some kind of perverse consolation for the pain we have gone through at their hands, or worse, we pray that they suffer some kind of horrible fate in recompense for what they did to us, or even try to exact revenge ourselves to cause the perpetrator physical, emotional, or financial loss. The Rosh, in his Orchos Chaim (110) teaches us that these types of responses are not ideal. Rather we are instructed by the Torah to wait for the person who wronged us to apologize, and when he does, to listen to his apology intently showing him that we feel his remorse, and to immediately forgive him, even if his apology isn’t completely sincere. When Yosef reveals himself to his brothers, without any ado, he changes the subject and begins to console them. He tells them how it sure was a good thing he got sold, so that he was able to provide food for their father and the whole family. He makes no mention of the many long years he spent working for a mistress who made his life a living hell. He doesn’t even allude to the many long years he spent incarcerated in a miserable hole in the ground without once bathing or getting a haircut. Rather he even thanks them for setting in motion the events which allowed him the “opportunity” to become the ruler of Egypt and bring about the salvation of the fledgling Jewish nation. Such is the proper way to treat those that have wronged us – to minimize as much as possible the insult which has been perpetrated, and to try and restore feelings of camaraderie and friendship and focus on the future instead of the past.
Similarly, R’ Yerucham continues, when we have done a favor for somebody, there is an innate predisposition to not want to accept payment for that favor, but this does not necessarily emanate from a positive place. Typically, we want to always feel like somebody “owes” us something, rather than feel even with other people. It gives us a false sense of superiority, which can lead to all sorts of unhealthy interactions, rather than equality. However, the Torah frowns on this kind of behavior. We should rather accept remuneration for the goodness we have done, or dismiss it in our own minds as truly insignificant, instead of just saying “Oh, it was nothing”, and not meaning it. R’ Yerucham quotes the Midrash in Parshas Tetzaveh which says that Hashem asked the Kohanim to light the Menorah, not, of course, because He needed the light, which is absurd, but rather so that we would feel good that we have something to do in return for all the tremendous kindness that Hashem pours down upon us every moment of the day. We too would be wise to emulate Hashem and sometimes allow people to compensate us for the good we do for them. Sometimes to give, is to take, and sometimes to take, is to give!
The Chofetz Chaim once had a letter sent to him by a man who was very ill, and asked if the Chofetz Chaim wouldn’t mind praying for his recovery. At the end of the letter, the man shyly asked the Chofetz Chaim for forgiveness, because he had been in the habit of denigrating the value of the Chofetz Chaim’s works on the laws of slander and forbidden speech. He had told all his friends that a work like this is not really that great, and that it wasn’t completely authoritative. The Chofetz Chaim’s son reported that his father, immediately upon receiving this letter, sat down to write his response, in which he expressed his deep and heartfelt pain that this man was suffering, and how he intended to do everything in his power to help this man achieve a full recovery. The Chofetz Chaim concluded this stirring letter not only completely forgiving this person for his inappropriate speech, but by apologizing profusely that he, the Chofetz Chaim, was a source of anguish or remorse for this person when he already wasn’t feeling that great, and begged him to never think about it again so that he may no longer suffer any more discomfort or guilt on account of the Chofetz Chaim. Such was the level of piety and selflessness of this great leader.
After all of Yosef’s care to ensure that the brothers didn’t suffer any ill feelings, how did they take it when Yosef revealed himself? The verse says that they temporarily lost their faculty of speech completely. The Midrash comments on this verse, “Woe to us on the day of judgment, woe to us on the day of rebuke.” R’ Yerucham points out based on the commentary on the Midrash, the Yaffe Einayim, that it is interesting to note that the verse does not use a language of deprecation or scorn in reference to the brothers, and in fact, Yosef took great measures to ensure that nobody else was in the room when he revealed himself, but rather uses a language of embarrassment or regret. Meaning, we don’t find anywhere that the brothers’ embarrassment stemmed from what Yosef or anyone else was thinking about what they had done, rather the emotion causing their temporary muteness was remorse. For this reason, the Midrash compares this encounter to the day we die. When Hashem reveals himself to us, and we realize all the opportunities that we blew during our precious, fleeting lifetime, we won’t feel embarrassed as much as we will feel regret for not having taken better advantage of the gift called life.
R’ Aryeh Finkel, the current Mashgiach of the Mir, concludes based on the work of his predecessors by encouraging all of us to set aside time during the day to consider whether or not we are fully utilizing the unique gifts that each of us were given. We all have talents and endowments that nobody else knows about, and therefore are not subject to rebuke by any of our peers. For example, if someone amongst us has an exceptional ability to cheer up sick people, there is nobody in the Yeshiva who would be capable of knowing about it and encouraging them to pursue that aptitude. Yet we ourselves are capable of identifying these traits. When we get to Heaven, and have to face Hashem, it would be a shame to have to come up short on all the great faculties we were given and not be able to say that we employed them in the service of Hashem.
May we all merit to treat others with the respect they deserve, and to utilize all the great gifts we were given!