LOVE YOUR FELLOW AS YOU DO A STRANGER!

ACTED LIKE A STRANGER

Yoseph was sold by his brothers into slavery in Egypt. When accused of trying to seduce the wife of his master, Potiphar, Yoseph was sentenced to languish in an Egyptian dungeon. Two years after he successfully interpreted the dreams of the king’s butler and baker he is summoned to interpret Pharaoh’s dream. Yoseph interpreted Pharaoh’s dream as a prediction of seven years of plenty followed by seven years of famine. Yoseph advised Pharaoh to store grain that would save Egypt and the surrounding area. Pharaoh made Yoseph his viceroy. Yosef’s brothers arrived in Egypt to purchase grain during the famine. It was the first time in 13 years that Yoseph saw them.

This is how the Torah describes their first fateful meeting:

Yoseph saw his brothers and he recognized them, but he acted like a stranger toward them and spoke with them harshly.

Rashi explains that he acted to them as a stranger in order to speak with them harshly.

One could ask why he had to treat them as strangers to speak to them harshly. They were his brothers, who sold him into slavery after attempting to kill him! That was a perfectly valid reason to speak to them harshly.

The classic Talmudic era translator, Unkelus, usually translates the text of the Torah quite simply and literally. When we consult Unkelus on this text however, we discover an even greater difficulty. The word “va’yisnaker” in the text, is clearly connected to the word stranger. However, rather than offering the literal meaning of va’yisnaker as “he acted like a stranger,” Unkelus renders it as: “he reflected on how to respond to them.” It is clear that something in this verse compelled him to deviate from his standard approach to translation and provide commentary rather than simply translate the word.

What prompted Unkelus to depart from his usual style of providing a literal translation?

YOSEF’S DILEMMA

To answer these questions we must try to put ourselves in Yosef’s position. After so many years of travail, Yoseph has now come face to face with his brothers. They tried to kill him and sold him into slavery, which then degenerated into a harsh prison sentence, as recounted in last week’s parsha. Now he was viceroy of Egypt, with the powers of a king and had them in his hands to treat them as he pleased. They were now at his mercy.

What would our own reactions be at a time like this?

On the one hand, we might feel righteous anger and seek revenge. On the other hand, we may bend over backwards and treat them with love to restore family unity.

Yoseph found himself in precisely this predicament. Yoseph was in the unenviable moral position of having total power over his brothers.

This was his dilemma: Should he use that power to avenge the years of pain and suffering by punishing them severely? Or, perhaps, should he reveal his identity and embrace them with love as he ultimately did. Yoseph was surely tempted to end the separation between himself and his brothers and their father. Any other person would have had his head spinning, not knowing how to react.

Yoseph did not allow his emotions to sway him. He was convinced that Divine Providence placed him in this position to get his brothers to express sincere regret for selling him as well as causing their father unimaginable grief.

Yoseph carefully weighed the situation. He could not allow himself to react impulsively. Revenge, he surely reasoned, was morally wrong. Likewise, embracing them at that moment was equally wrong. It would deny them the opportunity to rectify their behavior by coming to grips with their terrible crime.

In the end, Yoseph, after careful thought, decides to control his emotions and act the way he was convinced G-d wanted him to. He was going to keep up the pretense that he was an Egyptian ruler who was a total stranger to them. He would use “tough love” and be harsh to them but not with any feeling of anger or hatred. Yoseph was walking an emotional tightrope, but was able to balance himself by using the intellectual power of his G-dly soul and his prophetic prowess to make the decision.

This approach proved to be the right one. His brothers did express deep remorse for their past sin and even went as far as risking their very lives for their half-brother Benyamin as recounted in next week’s parsha.

THE PARADOX OF RELATIVITY

However, while the foregoing approach explains why Yoseph had to reflect on the situation, as Unkelus avers, it does not explain how we are to reconcile this interpretation with the simple meaning of the word va’yisnaker, which means to act as a stranger. What connection is there between the interpretation of Unkelus – that he reflected on his course of action – and the literal meaning of the word va’yisnaker, that he acted like a stranger towards them?

The answer to this problem might lie in the paradoxical dynamic that exists in our close relationships that is absent in our interactions with strangers.

When one enjoys a close connection to others – especially if there is a blood relationship – it is virtually impossible to sort out all the relationship issues and deal with them in a rational and dispassionate fashion. The connections and emotions they engender create an atmosphere of murkiness and fog, thus leading to moral confusion and the inability to navigate a proper course of action.

The challenge of “relativity” is reflected in the law disqualifying a relative as a witness. We can easily understand why one is not trusted to testify on behalf of his relative because of his natural bias and his testimony is suspect. But, why can’t he testify against his relative? What bias can there be in that regard?

The answer to this question is that, on the contrary, the emotional cloud which envelops one when dealing with a relative can cause the witness to testify against him as easily as on his behalf.

We can now understand why Yoseph had to act as if his brothers were strangers. If he had allowed himself to feel his kinship to them, his judgment would have been clouded. It could have swayed him in either of the two directions that his emotions might take him. He might have decided to be harsher than necessary or to drop his disguise and embrace them with love. Both decisions would have proven disastrous because he would have harmed them either way. Yoseph had to create an emotional gulf between himself and his brothers so he could rationally make the correct decision.

Thus, Unkelus’ interpretation of va’yisnaker – that he reflected on his course of action – is directly related to the literal translation, “he acted like a stranger.” His acting as a stranger facilitated his ability to reflect dispassionately on his course of action.

THE DISTANT CLOSENESS OF THE THRESHOLD ERA

With the above analysis we can make some sense of the paradoxical situation of our Jewish world in these last moments of exile, when we are “on the threshold of Redemption.”

The Baal Shem Tov spoke of the need to love a Jew whom we never met. Nine generations of teachings by our Rebbeim since then have firmly instilled this message into the hearts and minds of all those who follow the Chassidic path. We have come a long way from the time that senseless hatred prevailed and, as the Talmud declares, brought about the destruction of the Second Temple and the ensuing exile. The thousands of the Rebbe’s Shluchim that have spread to the most remote places, both geographically and spiritually, to shower their love and attention on all Jews regardless of their level of observance, attest to the barriers that have been removed between Jews of all stripes and colors.

This display of unity and love can be attributed to the interconnected phenomena of nine generations of obsessive focus on Ahavas Yisroel, from the Baal Shem Tov onward to our Rebbe, as well as the fact that we are on the very threshold of the Final Redemption.

But, paradoxically, it seems that while we have essentially cured the dissonance that comes from distance, our challenge is to remove the cloud that exists within our own family of Jews who are committed to Judaism and its Chassidic illumination. Our challenge is, ironically, to love those close to us as much as we love the stranger.

As noted above, closeness creates its own set of challenges. The closer you are to someone the harder it is to see them for who they really are. The greatest challenge today is thus, arguably, the removal of the barriers between one’s closest friends, relatives and those with whom we share values.

This phenomenon of blindness caused by closeness can be traced back to the penultimate plague, darkness, about which the Torah states: “no man can see his brother.” This plague which occurred right before the redemption from Egypt foreshadowed the darkness that exists right before the onset of the Final Redemption and its generation of the greatest light.

THE SECOND HALF OF THE MONTH

The Rebbe explained that the period we are in now is like the second half of the month when the moon wanes until it can no longer be visible. The lack of light is actually due to the closeness of the moon to its source, the sun. The closer we are, the more tension and fog there may be.

Our challenge today is to combine the best of both worlds of passionate closeness and dispassionate distance. We must follow Yosef’s example. He helped his brothers by viewing them with clarity as if they were strangers. We too should love those closest to us with the same non-judgmental love we have for Jews whom we may have never met but for whom we are prepared to travel to the ends of the earth to help materially and spiritually.