December 15th: Mikketz
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
In the story of Joseph, the Torah’s focus is on the miraculous and complex web of causation that God effects in the world. What seem like immature dreams of grandeur turn out to be prophetic. What seem like family squabbles turn out to be a divine vehicle for getting the Hebrews a place of refuge during famine times. What seems to be a series of tragedies turns out to be developmental steps before Joseph assumes a position of great importance in Egypt. As Joseph explains to his brothers at the end of the story, “Although you intended me harm, God intended it for good, so as to bring about the present result—the survival of many people.” (Genesis 50.20) The Lord works in mysterious ways, and Joseph and Jacob and all the Children of Israel are surprised at the way things turn out.
Nestled in all this Divine Providence however is a major economic revolution in Egyptian society—one wrought by Joseph as a solution to the seven years of plenty and the seven years of famine. When Joseph interprets Pharaoh’s two parallel dreams—about the seven fat cows being consumed by the seven malnourished cows, and about the seven healthy ears of grain being swallowed by the seven shriveled ears of grain, he also offers some advice. “Pharaoh’s dreams are one and the same. God has told Pharaoh what He is about to do….Immediately ahead are seven years of great abundance in all the land of Egypt. After them will come seven years of famine, and all the abundance in the land of Egypt will be forgotten…Accordingly, let Pharaoh find a man of discernment and wisdom, and set him over the land of Egypt…to organize the land of Egypt in the seven years of plenty…” (Genesis 41.25-34)
Impressed with young Joseph, Pharaoh appoints him as that “man of discernment and wisdom” who is put in charge of dealing with the crisis. In this week’s portion, Mikketz, Joseph’s general supervision and success is described, but in next week’s portion, Vayiggash, (Genesis 47.13-26), the details and larger plan emerges. When the Egyptians come to the governmental reserves, they must purchase the grain. “Joseph gathered in all the money that was to be found in Egypt and in the land of Canaan, as payment for the rations that were being procured, and Joseph brough the money into Pharaoh’s palace.” (Genesis 47.14) When their money runs out, the government lets the people pay for food with their livestock. When all the livestock is transferred to Pharaoh, the only things the people have left to offer are their land and their labor. “Let us not perish before your eyes, both we and our land. Take us and our land in exchange for bread, and we with our land will be serfs to Pharaoh…So Joseph gained possession of all the farmland of Egypt for Pharaoh…thus the land passed over to Pharaoh.” (Genesis 47.19-20
In other words, the solution to this natural catastrophe is a complete restructuring of the Egyptian economy—with agriculture and even population distribution being under centralized government control.
In a few weeks, when we begin Exodus, the Torah gives a sort of explanation for why things in Egypt change so drastically—how the Israelites go from being honored guests to slaves: “A new king arose over Egypt who did not know Joseph.” (Exodus 1.8) As one can imagine, this ambiguous sentence can lead to lots of speculation. Is this a critical comment about a new leader who does not know or appreciate the nation’s history? Is this a cynical comment about a country that changes loyalty at the drop of a hat? Or is there something more complicated at play?
The Egyptian records are remarkably silent on the Hebrews’ presence—our welcome, our enslavement, and our dramatic Exodus, and this silence keeps scholars and their Ph.D. students busy as they try to put together various hints into theories and explanations.
One of the explanations is that during this time—roughly 1600 BCE, Egypt was invaded by a group known as the Hyksos. The Hyksos were militarily and technologically advanced and swept in from Asia Minor (Turkey/Anatolia). They ruled for over a hundred years before they were expelled, and other rulers took over. One theory is that the Pharaoh of the Joseph story was Hyksos and that “the new king who knew not Joseph” represented those who removed the Hyksos rulers and purged the country of all foreign elements—including the new economic system enacted under the Hyksos. Perhaps the enslavement of the Hebrews and other foreigners was part of this Reconquista.
In other words, this could have been the first time our people have been caught up in changes and blamed/victimized for economic and political machinations far beyond our control. Change is often destabilizing, and scapegoats can help redirect anger at disruptions and changes in wealth and status. This was the point of historian Ellis Rivkin, late of the Hebrew Union College, when he observed that every significant case of anti-Semitism has been in response to an economic crisis. As long as the economy prospered—in Spain, in France, in Germany, or in Russia, the Jews were left alone. There is no theological imperative in either Christianity or Islam to persecute the Jews. However, once an economic crisis hits—like the defeat of the Spanish Armada or Industrialization being slow in Tzarist Russia, all of a sudden, unscrupulous actors target Jews as the maligning cause. Of course, “The Jews” are never the cause of the problem, and persecuting Jews is problematic on several levels. First, it is unjust and evil. Secondly, scapegoating is a distraction from the actual causes of the problem. And third, persecuting Jews or any other scapegoat is a waste of resources that could be marshalled to help solve the actual problem. Think about all the Jewish thinking and energy chased away or eliminated from societies in crisis. Many have taken this evil and pointless path, and it has not availed them.
One could take this analysis and apply it to many current cases of anti-Semitism, both on the Right and the Left. The list is long, but, as a parting thought, let us just think about the oppressed peoples in the Arab and Muslim world—places where too much violence reigns and where the godly messages of the Koran are misapplied to the detriment of the faithful. Rather than examining the real causes, unscrupulous leaders blame Israel and the Jews for it all. If, however and God forbid, Israel and the Jews would disappear tomorrow, would the Arab and Muslim world really have peace? Would suppression of human rights evaporate? Would freedom and prosperity suddenly bloom in Iran, in Afghanistan, in Syria, in Egypt, in Gaza or in the West Bank? Of course not. And so I find myself feeling sorry for those in the Arab and Muslim world who blame their problems on Israel and the Jews. They are, to use an old saying, barking up the wrong tree. Attacking the Jews will not solve their problems, AND their faulty thinking denies them the help of Jews who are called to Tikkun Olam, the Repair of the World. We are willing to help if they will just let us.