Dear Friends,
This week’s Torah portion, Vayiggash, depicts Joseph and his family experiencing a period of prosperity. After undergoing a series of trials to verify that his brothers had genuinely changed, Joseph discloses his true identity. Consequently, he brings his entire family to Egypt to escape the impending famine that has engulfed the region.
Regrettably, as has been a recurring theme throughout history, our people’s acceptance was short-lived. Generations later, a “new Pharaoh emerged in Egypt who was unaware of Joseph.” This new ruler disregarded the positive contributions Joseph had made to Egypt and soon perceived the growing Israelite population as a threat. Ostracism, restrictive laws, and ultimately, overt antagonism swiftly followed.
The rest, as they say, is (Jewish) history. (Alternatively, depending on one’s perspective, it could be considered (Jewish) mythic history.)
I have been contemplating Pharaoh’s sudden shift in attitude toward our people and the inclusion of the detail that he “knew not Joseph.” On the surface, this addition provides insight into the reasons behind Pharaoh’s turn against us. However, I wonder if its message holds a broader significance.
It is an inherent human tendency to form opinions about others and subsequently filter our interactions through the lens of those opinions.
When our opinions are positive, we draw positive conclusions and readily give the benefit of the doubt. If they make a mistake or stumble, we find excuses for their behavior.
However, when our opinions are negative, we exhibit the opposite behavior. During moments of disagreement or misunderstanding, our negative assumptions become stronger. Consequently, the subsequent interaction is viewed through an even more negative lens, perpetuating a cycle.
This is simply human nature.
But there’s a solution. The Torah offers it to us by including the detail that Pharaoh “knew not Joseph.” When we take the time to get to know others instead of interacting based on our assumptions about them, we see the whole person—the good, the bad, the inspiring, and the disappointing. We create the opportunity to build relationships.
Sadly, in our hurried, electronics-driven world, that’s harder than ever.
There’s a story about a rabbi who was being mourned after his death:
“Who was most important to him?” asked one of his students.
Another student replied, “Whomever he was speaking to at that moment.”
In this New Year, let’s slow down, put aside our phones, and truly take the time to get to know one another in all our beautiful, complex, often-inconsistent humanity.
Shabbat Shalom and Happy 2025,
Rabbi Daniel Cohen