The "I Told You So" Mentality

Parshat Beshalach opens with Bnei Yisrael leaving Egypt. Pharaoh has second thoughts about “letting” the Jews go, so he rallies the remaining Egyptians to pursue Bnai Yisrael on their armored chariots. The Jews see the Egyptians approaching and get very scared and cry out to Hashem. This is what they say to Moshe (14:11-12):

“Were there no graves in Egypt that you had to take us into the desert to die?! What have you done to us by taking us out of Egypt?! Isn’t this what we told you in Egypt, ‘Let us be and we will continue to serve Egypt’ – for it is better that we serve Egypt than die in the desert.”

Rashi notes the obvious question: where and when did Bnei Yisrael say anything that resembles what they claim to have said in the underlined passage?

Rashi quotes the Mechilta’s answer to this question, and refers us to a verse at the end of Parshat Shemot. Moshe and Aharon had approached Pharaoh for the forst time, and instead of easing the burden on the Jewish People, Pharaoh had responded by making their slavery harder and no longer providing the straw for bricks. Upon hearing go this development, the Jewish leaders confront Moshe and Aharon and say (5:21): “May Hashem look upon you and judge, for you have made us abhorrent in the eyes of Egypt, and you placed a sword in their hands to murder us.”

At first glance, this Mechilta is very difficult. These statements in Parshat Shemot do not match up at all with the statements in Beshalach. Furthermore, even if you could in some way understand the parallels between these two verses, it completely ignores the ten plagues and Exodus from Egypt that transpired in between.

I’d like to suggest an understanding of our pasuk in light of a common parenting situation. Your child is jumping on the couch. You tell them to stop. They keep doing it, so this time you warn him, that he might hurt himself, so he should really stop jumping on the couch for his own good. He keeps jumping, and sure enough he falls off the couch and bumps his head, and he’s crying. What’s your first response? Mine is usually, “I told you so!” and then remembering that my child is in pain I ask, “are you OK?”

Many of us suffer from the “I told you so” mentality. We get stuck in our ways, stuck in wanting to be right that we ignore all of the other factors. The Jews are scared. So they respond defensively- by going on the offense against Moshe and by saying, “We Told You So!”

Hashem doesn’t get angry at Bnei Yisrael. He understands where they are coming from. Instead he merely tells them, “Be quiet”. Don’t open your mouths until you can overcome your “I told you so mentality.”

Bnei Yisrael overcome this mentality after the Splitting of the Sea. And it is at this point that the people begin to understand that God had been with them all along, and they respond by opening their mouths to recite the Song at the Sea.

This clarity doesn’t last long and soon enough the people are right back in their “I told you so” mentality. But Parshat Beshalach is proof that we can overcome this tendency, and focus on the “What can we do now?” instead of the “I told you so.”

Being Human is Understandable - But Not an Excuse

In Parshat Bo, Moshe commands the Jewish People concerning the Pesach experience in Egypt. One of the requirements is that (12:21) “no man shall leave the entrance of his house until morning.” Rashi, quoting the Mechilta, explains that once G-d let loose the Angel of Destruction, the only thing that could protect the Jewish people was staying inside a house that had blood smeared on its door. If a Jew would venture outside, they would end up “being caught up” in the Plague of the First Born. This Mechilta is sometimes utilized as a way of bringing comfort to the families of innocents who die in wartime or in some other tragedy.

Rabbi Hershel Schachter (in Nefesh HaRav) quotes an alternate explanation of this commandment, offered by Rav Soloveitchik. Perhaps the command to stay in their houses was Hashem’s way of insuring that Bnei Yisrael did not use this moment to exact revenge by their own hands on the Egyptians. Rabbi Soloveitchik pointed to the fact that many native Africans sought revenge against the white colonialists after those African countries gained independence. This is typical and (somewhat) understandable behavior for a former slave who has gained independence, and has an opportunity to subject his oppressors with oppression. Hashem did not want this to happen 1) because that’s not how Jews should act and 2) perhaps to reinforce the idea that the Jews freedom from Egyptian slavery meant only that they were able to subject themselves to G-d’s rule.

I particularly like R’ Soloveitchik’s suggestions because it emphasizes an idea that I find compelling and important: Hashem/ the Torah does not expect us to be superhuman, or to completely abandon normal human urges or desires. Rather the Torah recognizes human psychology and validates it. But the the Torah wants us at times to overcome these human tendencies and strive for holiness and greatness The Jews at the time of the Exodus had every reason to want to hurt the Egyptians. That’s why Hashem commands the Jews to stay indoors. Helping them to avoid a situation in which they would give in to these base impulses was a good strategy in Parshat Bo- and a good strategy for us to keep in mind our entire lives. 

What The Hail?

The seventh plague and last plague in Parshat Vae’eira is barad, hail. The Torah states that that 9:24: “there was hail, and fire flaming amid the hail…” Rashi quotes a Midrash that this plague was a “miracle inside a miracle” for the hail that rained down on Egypt had fire inside. Normally fire and ice do not get along, but in order to do God’s will, they made a truce thereby enabling this double miracle.

This year as I read about the hail I immediately began thinking about the difference between a contradiction and a paradox. Under normal circumstances, fire and ice are a contradiction. Yet in Egypt, to serve G-d’s will and in service to the Jewish People, what normally appeared as a contradiction was in fact merely a paradox and actually possible.

As Jews, we are often called upon to tolerate paradoxes- what might appear to other people as outright contradictions. There are many examples of such seeming contradictions: People who appear or claim to be Torah observant and yet dishonor the Torah or the Jewish People. A Torah that values compassion and yet commands the annihilation of the tribe of Amalek. An ancient tradition, yet it demands that we live in the modern world.

How do we deal with these seeming contradictions? In Egypt, this hail destroyed everything. Most of the world has difficulty dealing with paradoxes and nuance. They throw the proverbial baby out with the bath water.

However we are told that in Goshen, not only were the Jews not damaged by the hail, but in fact “there was no hail”. Even at this early stage of Jewish history, the Jewish People were able to tolerate and deal with paradoxes and nauce, as symbolized by hail. It did not destroy them or even negatively impact them.

There are many examples of such seeming contradictions in today’s Jewish world. We must learn from the plague of hail to persevere, survive- even grow- from these types of paradoxical experiences.

There Are No Sure Things

At the end of his life, Yaakov wanted to leave his children with a message of hope and consolation. Chapter 49 begins with Yaakov calling together his sons at which point he says, “Assemble yourselves and I will tell you what will befall you in the End of Days.” However Yaakov does not live up to this promise. He blesses his children but we see no further explicit mention of the End of Days anywhere else in Yaakov’s last words. Rashi quotes the midrash that Yaakov wanted to reveal to his children when Moshiach would come, but just then his Divine inspiration departed and he no longer had access to that information.

We can all understand Yaakov’s desire to take leave of his children on a note of comfort. His family was now in Egypt and the years of slavery were yet to begin. As Yaakov lay dying, his sons probably were feeling vulnerable and dejected. It is only natural that Yaakov wanted to tell his children that “everything will be OK- and I can prove it to you by telling you when Moshiach will come.”

                

However Yaakov was not allowed to convey that message. In this way the Torah is teaching us an important lesson: there are no sure things in life. We have to try our best every day, even when the results are not guaranteed. We cannot give up on doing the right thing, even when it appears that nice guys finish last.

               

It would have been great had Yaakov been allowed to assure us that everything would work out OK in the end. By God not allowing him to do so, we are given the greater challenge – living a righteous life under an air of uncertainty.

We are All Stakeholders

One of the “hot topics” during the recent presidential election was the discussion centered on notions of entitlement and responsibility. Many conservatives claim that the federal government is too big, people rely too heavily on government programs and we are creating an unhealthy “culture of entitlement”. Many liberals argue with this suggestion and emphasize the importance of government providing safety nets for the most vulnerable and underprivileged among the population.

While the proper size/role of government is a debatable issue, what is not debatable is the importance of encouraging people, especially our children, to feel a sense of pride and accomplishment. Of course we want what’s best for our biological children and, more generally, the next generation. In this age of affluence we are able to provide for everything that our children need and many things that they want. But even as we shower gifts upon our children we must allow space for them to become contributing members of society, to do good deeds, and to develop a sense of responsibility. Every human being is a stakeholder in society in some way.

This is the lesson that emerges from the Garden of Eden. On the one hand God tells Adam and Eve that they had free reign over the garden. Except for one or two trees, they were free to take and eat anything in the garden. At the same time God gives them a charge: “to work and protect” the garden. Optimal enjoyment and a sense of satisfaction for Adam and Eve could not be attained until they were made stakeholders in the garden and given responsibilities.

This is also the lesson that emerges from the end of Parshat Vayigash. After the seven years of plenty, the famine descends upon Egypt. The Egyptian people use all of their money and livestock in order to buy grain from Pharaoh, as planned by Yosef. After a year the people are left without any assets. They turn to Yosef and say (47:19): “Acquire us and our land for bread.” In the next verse we see that Yosef agrees, but only in part: “Thus Yosef acquired all the land of Egypt for Pharaoh.” Yosef refuses to enslave the Egyptian people. Instead he makes them sharecroppers; they would work the land that was now owned by Pharaoh, they would keep 80% of the produce and pay 20% as tax.

Yosef understood that keeping the Egyptians as stakeholders in the land and in its ongoing cultivation was a good idea- for both the Egyptians and for Pharaoh. It was good for the Egyptians because it allowed them to maintain their self-identity and self-worth. It was good for Pharaoh because citizens that are no longer stakeholders in society have no reason to positively contribute. They get bored, disillusioned and are more likely to revolt against the powers that b

 If we want our children to become responsible, productive and contributing members of society, then we must learn from our ancestor Yosef.  We must empower the next generation and remind them of their responsibilities. We must teach them that they are important stakeholders: in their family, in their school, and in their community, in their world.

Few - and Proud

This morning in my Tefilah class I studied the Al Hanisim paragraph with 6^th grade boys. I focused on the phrase in the prayer where we thank Hashem for the Jewish victory over the Greeks where it is described as “the many in the hands of the few.”  I reminded the class that the Greeks were not primarily interested in killing Jews, as Haman and the Nazis were. Rather, their interest was in extinguishing Judaism. A Jew would be left alone if s/he gave up unique Jewish beliefs and rituals and lived life as a Greek. Persecution would only occur if Jews refused this offer. Many Jews accepted the Greek offer and lived comfortable lives as Mityavnim. However there was a small cadre of people, led by the Maccabees who refused to give in, or give up.

As I emphasized in today’s class, they understood that there were some ideas or beliefs that are worth fighting for, even worth dying for. I compared the Maccabees to the American soldiers during the Revolutionary War. By and large, citizens of the 13 colonies could have gone on living comfortable lives as subjects of the British. They may have been taxed unfairly, but they would have been left alive. Yet they understood what the Maccabees understood: that there are some rights and ideas worth fighting for.

Chanukah also reminds us that being right does not always put you in the majority. As we read in Al Hanisim, the miracle was that “the many were given over to the few.” In a sense, this is the ongoing miracle of the Jewish People and the Jewish State: the few continue to persevere. Against all odds, against lopsided UN votes, we are still here and we are not going anywhere

Parshat Mikeitz begins with the story of Pharaoh’s dreams. Rabbi Moshe Amiel asks: In Egypt, they don’t talk about this Pharaoh anymore. Egyptian history books barely mention his name, and definitely do not describe his dreams. Yet in Judaism, Pharaoh’s dreams are part of our holy Bible. We read and study Pharaoh’s dream to a much greater degree than they do in Egypt. Why is this so?

Rabbi Amiel suggests that although Yosef interpreted Pharaoh’s dreams as relevant for that particular point in history, there was a much larger significance to this dream that is relevant throughout Jewish history. The narrative of the healthy cows being swallowed by the skinny cows and the healthy stalks being devoured by the skinny stalks is the ongoing lesson of “the many in the hands of the few….the strong in the hands of the weak.” It is a Jewish theme and promise throughout history, not just on Chanukah.

The convergence of Parshat Mikeitz with Chanukah is the right time to remind ourselves of the lessons of “rabim biyad me’atim.” There are beliefs worth fighting for. Even when we are right, we may be in the minority. And just because we are in the minority does not mean we are destined to be lost to history.

Learning from Yosef Ha'Ivri

The story of Yosef in the house of Potiphar and his interaction with Potiphar’s wife can teach us a great deal about how we should strive to live our lives as Jews. Potiphar’s wife tries to seduce Yosef, and Yosef responds that he will not succumb to temptation on two accounts: “1)there is no one greater in this house than I, and Potiphar has denied me nothing but you (since you are his wife); how then can I perpetrate this great evil. 2)And I would have sinned against God.”

I admit that my punctuation of the last few words is debatable. One could argue that Yosef’s mail concern was that committing adultery is a sin against God. However I see within Yosef’s words the appropriate approach to gauging the correctness of our actions. First of all, Yosef considers the human impact of his actions and understands that committing adultery would be a sin against Potiphar, not only because she is his wife, but also because of the trust that Potiphar had placed in Yosef and adultery would be a supreme violation of that trust. Secondly, and just as important, even if Yosef had no feelings of respect and gratitude towards Potiphar, and even if he resented Potiphar and really wanted to hurt him, Yosef would not succumb to temptation because it would be a sin against God.

Yosef models for us the considerations that we are supposed to have. If our actions would hurt someone else, then even if we could rationalize those actions as not being a technical violation of halacha, it would still be wrong. And even if an action does not hurt anyone, we still must evaluate whether that activity is allowed according to Halacha, the code by which we are supposed to live our lives.

I believe that this is what sets Yosef apart and the reason why he is called “Ivri” on multiple occasions in Parshat Vayeshev. Yosef sets himself apart by holding himself to two high standards: one is the Halacha test, the other is the “mensch test”. Even if something could be construed as permissible based on the Halacha test, if we are to emulate Yosef Hatzaddik then we will avoid any activity that doesn’t pass the mensch tes

Let us learn the lessons of Yosef HaIvri well. Torah is distorted when it is used to justify improper behavior towards others, Jew or non-Jew.  A person who claims to be Torah observant yet hurts others is a liar. Let us never allow there to be daylight between being Torah observant and being a mensch.