Rabbi Yitzchak Breitowitz: The Divine Mission of Yosef

Okay, everybody. Thank you. Thank you for coming. I want to go back a little bit although this week we're going to begin Humash Mos. I do want to talk about a few final aspects about the story of Yosef that will in fact have a bearing on the slavery in Mitzrayim and on the the on the liberation from that slavery. When Yosef finally reveals himself to his brothers, so the brothers go back to tell Yakov and you recall the Medrish that they didn't want to tell Yakov right away. They thought Yakov might get a heart attack. Yakov might die. So they had a Usher's daughter, Serach bas Asher, played her harp and sang a song and she gradually revealed to Yakov that Yosef was alive through the beauty of her singing. But then it says that when they finally told Yakov, they said, "Yosef od Yosef chai. Yosef is still alive. V'chi hu ha'moshel b'chol eretz Mitzrayim." And not only is Yosef alive, but he is the ruler over all of Egypt. And the pasuk says, "Lo ha'amin lahem." Yakov did not believe them. But then, "Vayar es ha'agalos." When he saw the wagons that Yosef had sent, only then, "Vatechi ruach Yakov Avraham." The spirit of Yakov was revived. So number one, initially he didn't believe them, but when he saw the wagons, he somehow believed them. So what's going on with the wagons? What is the significance of the wagons? So first, let me share with you a an interesting thought of the Chofetz Chaim. The Chofetz Chaim says that it's not when he says Yosef Yakov didn't believe them, it doesn't mean he didn't believe that Yosef was alive. But rather, the brothers made two statements. Yosef is still alive, meaning he's still a righteous person. He's the same Yosef that lived with you in the Eretz Yisrael. And he is the ruler of Eretz Mitzrayim. So the Chofetz Chaim says, Yakov could believe either one of those statements, but not both. I can believe he's a tzaddik and he's not the political leader of Mitzrayim. Or I could believe he's the political leader of Mitzrayim, but then he wouldn't be a tzaddik. I don't believe how it's possible that he could be a tzaddik, Yosef, and still be the moshel b'chol eretz Mitzrayim. And the Chofetz Chaim makes the point that there are many many different nisyonos, many different trials and tribulations that Jews face. Sometimes we face persecution and that is a very very difficult challenge. But other times we face prosperity, power, and influence. And that could even be a greater sakanah because that could breed arrogance and that could breed assimilation and that could breed a desire to be part of the society in which you're prospering. Like Yosef was the highest official. Really, more than even Paro. I mean, he was under Paro, but Yosef was making the life and death decisions in Mitzrayim. It would have been so easy to simply assimilate into that culture. And therefore, Yakov did not believe that he could still be Yosef and be a moshel b'chol eretz Mitzrayim. This is an old story. The Babacher Rebbe used to say it's easier to be Jewish in Siberia than suburbia. That Siberia, obviously Jews were persecuted, but you really had no choice. You could not escape your Jewish identity even if you wanted to. It was stamped in your passport. You were told you were a Jew. If you tried to evade that, you tried to escape that, that lesson was impressed upon you every single moment. By contrast, when we live in free societies, societies of opportunity, all of us are Jews by choice. You know, the phrase Jews by choice is kind of a modern term that is sometimes applied to converts. We say a convert, a ger, is a Jew by choice. But the truth of the matter is in modern affluent societies, every Jew is a Jew by choice because it is so easy to assimilate. It is so easy to give up. Thank Hashem, in Eretz Yisrael, although we have unfortunately plenty of assimilation here as well, but it's a little harder to simply abandon your Jewish identity lagamre. I mean, after all, even the Agudath Yisrael will say Chanukah sameach or or or whatever it is. But in the United States, other countries, you don't want to be a Jew, nobody's going to make you be a Jew. And indeed, it's been well said, people don't like this, they resent using the Holocaust for analogy, so I apologize. But it's been well said that you know, the intermarriage rate in America is one out of two. One out of two marriages involving Jews will have a non-Jewish partner. And in smaller communities where there are fewer Jews, it can be as high as seven out of 10. Seven out of 10 Jewish marriages may have a non-Jewish partner. I don't mean a non-Jew converted, even reform. I mean a non-Jew who will still have a Christmas tree and everything else. Now, if you factor in the number of Jews that have been lost by assimilation and and intermarriage, it is actually greater than the Holocaust itself. And that's a very very frightening number because what that basically says is what Hitler, yimach shmo, was not able to accomplish, we unfortunately do it to ourselves. And that comes actually from an environment of prosperity, of opportunity, of freedom. On one hand, we're very grateful for those opportunities. But those opportunities create an immense nisayon. In fact, it was very interesting in the beginning of the 19th century, as Napoleon was marching through Europe, and Napoleon finally reached Russia where he actually met his defeat, so there was a machlokes among the gedolim of Europe. Should we pray for the victory of Napoleon or the victory of the Tsar? Because Jewish life under the Tsar was wretched and oppressive. Napoleon promised emancipation and civil rights. So many of the gedolim said we should pray for Napoleon because Napoleon will give the Jews freedom and opportunity. But the Baal HaTanya, the Alter Rebbe, the first Lubavitcher Rebbe, the founder of Chabad Chassidus, he said we're better off with the Tsar. Because as bad as life is under the Tsar, the Tsar destroys our bodies, but at least we know we have to be Jewish. Once Napoleon grants unlimited opportunities, then Judaism Jews will simply abandon Judaism in favor of whatever newfangled liberty they get. So indeed, the Baal HaTanya not only prayed for for the Tsar, but raised money for the Tsar and actually even got a decoration. I believe he got a decoration in honor of his participation. 100 years later after the Russian Revolution, this was one of the pretenses that the Communist government used to imprison the Chabad Rebbes by basically saying, "You are counterrevolutionary monarchists as evidenced by your support for the Tsar in the battle against Napoleon." But what all of this simply shows is that prosperity, affluence, is sometimes a greater danger to the Jew Jewish soul than even persecution. And that is why the Chofetz Chaim says, "Yakov had great difficulty believing that Yosef could be a tzaddik and at the same time be a moshel, a ruler, b'chol eretz Mitzrayim. He could be one or the other. You can't be both." So what reassured Yakov? What assuaged his concerns? Was he saw the agalos. Now, the question is what is so important about the agalos? So Rashi brings a very fascinating Medrish that agalah is really a pun. Right? Agalah means wagon, but it's the same letters, not the same word, but the same letters as egla, which is a calf. And 22 years earlier, when Yakov was studying Torah with Yosef, the very last part of the Torah that they studied together, apparently they had the Torah even before it was given, was the parsha dealing in parsha Shoftim in the book of Devarim dealing with egla arufa, which is a ritual when you find a corpse, the elders of the city bring a calf that they decapitate. And when Yosef sends Yakov agalos, that is a hidden message that maybe nobody else understood. As if to tell Yakov, "I remember what we were learning. We were learning egla arufa." And when Yakov saw that Yosef was still connected to the Torah that they learned, that reassured him. That's what Rashi brings. Now, the thought I want to share with you though is, why was it so significant that the last thing Yaakov was learning with Yosef was Eglah Arufah? Now, granted, maybe Yaakov had no particular agenda because Yaakov didn't know that Yosef was going to be sold into slavery, and that's just where they happened to be up to. But God knew. And somehow God arranged it that the last bit of Torah that Yosef was to hear from his father was Eglah Arufah. What is so significant about the obscure halakha of Eglah Arufah that that had to be the part of the Torah that was imprinted on Yosef's consciousness for 22 years? Apparently, that was a very powerful lesson. It was the last lesson he had from his father. And therefore, he would never forget it. Why did Hashem make it that that would be the last lesson? So, let's analyze Eglah Arufah a little bit just to go over what exactly it does. And that is the following. The Torah says, "If you find a corpse in the outside of a city and we don't know who murdered this person, so we measure from the corpse to the city that is closest to the corpse." But focus on the Mishnah. Do you measure from the head or the feet? They say, "What if the head is separate from the body?" Okay, that's a separate issue. But whatever it is, you measure to the closest city. And the elders of that closest city, they bring a calf and they bring it to a valley that's called Nachal Eitan, a valley that nothing grows, kind of just stony valley. It's not a korban in the Beit Hamikdash. And they put their hands on the calf and they declare, "Yadeinu lo shafchu et hadam hazeh." "We did not shed the blood of this person." "Kapper le'amcha Yisrael. Please, God, give an atonement for your people Israel." And then the calf is decapitated there. It is then buried, and that is said to be an atonement for the city from which the victim probably came. That's the assumption that he probably came from the closest city. Now, the Mishnah in Maseches Sotah asks a question. What is the sense of these zekeinim, eminent rabbis, judges, declaring, "We did not spill blood." Is there any supposition, is there any hava amina that the zekeinim of a beit din were actually guilty of murder? What is it that they are declaring when they say, "Yadeinu lo shafchu et hadam hazeh"? So, the Mishnah explains that they declare that if this man came from our city or came to our city, I can assure you, they're declaring to God, that we gave him food and lodging. We did not send him away without food and without lodging and without escort. What What does that have to do with with somebody being murdered? Because here is the concept. If somebody came to our city and needed us to take care of him, and we didn't take care of him, and he's wandering the streets looking for hospitality and lodging, and as a result, he's vulnerable to violence and crime, and he gets killed by a bad guy, we are morally responsible for what happened to him. The beit din is speaking not as individual rabbis. The beit din is speaking as representatives of the community. And therefore, in order to have the atonement of the Eglah Arufah, they must declare that as far as we know, we did take care of every stranger in our community. Because if we didn't, we would be the spillers of blood. This is a very, very powerful lesson. If you have people that are weak, vulnerable, helpless, and they don't get the physical, financial, or emotional support that they need, and things happen to them, even though we are not the ones that pulled the trigger, and we're not the ones who gave them a drug overdose or whatever it is, there is a concept that if our care and our concern and our compassion could have given them the strength not to be subject to whatever it is that befallen had befallen them, we are guilty. And therefore, Eglah Arufah is a very, very powerful lesson in communal responsibility. And by communal responsibility, I mean two things. The community responsible for every individual Jew that they could take care of. And number two, the idea that every member of the community must be taken This communal responsibility means my responsibility to the community and the community's responsibility to the individuals. And that's what Eglah Arufah teaches. Indeed, uh we find this idea Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz used to say that when you reject a human being and things happen, you never know what the repercussions of that are going to be. But actually, I'm just getting a little ahead of myself. Let me first mention a thought of the Malbim. I'm sorry, this is a little out of order. So, according to the first pshat that I just gave you, when they say, "We did not send him away without food, lodging, or escort," who is the him of the sentence? The victim. This victim, this person who was victimized by violence. It is not because we didn't take care of him. We gave him, they declare, everything that he needed. Things happen. The Malbim takes it one step further. Listen to what the Malbim says. The Malbim says, "The him in the sentence is the murderer." Meaning to say, the Malbim says, "If somebody comes to the city and because his needs are ignored, he engages in violence himself, we are responsible. Because perhaps if he would have been treated better, he wouldn't have done what he did." Now, here here I do have to clarify. This clearly does not mean that we exonerate bad people from the sins they commit. Nobody in their right mind could give Hitler a free pass on killing 6 million Jews because he was rejected when he tried to sell his paintings in Vienna uh 40 years before. Obviously, there are many people who suffer rejection and don't grow up to become mass murderers. So, we are not The Malbim does not intend to exonerate people who do evil things. They need to be punished. And they have free will. But the Malbim is making the point that sometimes we are contributing factors in pushing people in negative directions. So, according to the standard explanation, we're we're telling Hashem that if we didn't take care of the victim and because of that the victim was vulnerable, we're responsible. The Malbim says, "We would be responsible We would be responsible for what the bad guy did if we did not take care of him. Because if a person is built up and given chizuk, perhaps he wouldn't have gone in his evil ways." In this connection, I want to bring in a thought that Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz mentions. Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz uh had a policy when he was the rosh yeshiva of Mir that he would never expel a yeshiva student from the Mir yeshiva unless the boy, even if he wasn't learning, unless the boy was actively a bad influence on others. And when they asked Rav Chaim, "Why are you allowing deadwood, so to speak, just to stay in the yeshiva? They ought to be expelled. They're not doing what they're supposed to be doing." And his answer was, he didn't want to create more Amaleks in the world. And his reference is, "What is the story? Amalek is the epitome of evil. Amalek is the most despised nation." But what's the story of Amalek? There was a princess of the royal house of Pharaoh, like Hagar, and this princess's name was Timna. And Timna had a great desire to marry into the house of Avraham because they were righteous and they were holy. And she had a yearning for that holiness. But for whatever reason, she was found wanting and undeserving. So, she said to herself, "If I cannot be accepted by the holy branch of Avraham's family, I will even join the non-holy or the unholy branch of Avraham's family." And thus, she went to seek an alliance with Eliphaz, the son of Esau. Eliphaz didn't even want to marry her. Eliphaz took Timna as a concubine. So, not only was she rejected from Avraham's family, but even when she found some type of relationship within Esau's family, she was humiliated to be simply taken as a mistress or a concubine and not a regular wife. And she was willing to sacrifice her royal position for the honor {slash} embarrassment of being a concubine to one of Esau's sons. Out of the relationship between Timna and Eliphaz, came Amalek. Amalek is the son of Timna and Eliphaz. And Reb Chaim Shmulevitz says, you see from here the awesome negative power of what rejection can do. Rejection can bring out hatred and evil within a person that perhaps wouldn't have been triggered had there not been that rejection of the Reb Chaim Shmulevitz. Therefore, said he's not going to create more Amaleks in the world. In fact, there's an amazing story they tell the story about the Chofetz Chaim. Uh that there was a boy who was mechallel Shabbos in the Yeshiva of Radin. And the boy had to meet the Chofetz Chaim. And that that was a very scary thing. The Chofetz Chaim was not the Rosh Yeshiva. The Rosh Chofetz Chaim was more than the Rosh Yeshiva. He was the spiritual presence. And the boy was only a 15-year-old. He had been smoking on Shabbos. And the boy was shaking and quaking. It's interesting. We're not so afraid of the Ribbono shel Olam when we're mechallel Shabbos. That that's something to be more afraid of. But he was afraid of the Chofetz Chaim. He was quaking and shaking. And the Chofetz Chaim said, you have to leave because you're a mechallel Shabbos. You cannot be in this Yeshiva. And as the boy turned around to leave, the Chofetz Chaim said, "Where are you going?" And the boy responded, "The Rebbe told me to leave." And the Chofetz Chaim said, "I told you to leave the Yeshiva because you're a negative influence right now. But chas v'shalom, it's not that I don't care about you. You'll stay in my house. And I will learn with you." Now, this is a a wonderful story in many ways because it really illustrates the idea that even when we have to get rid of somebody, and there are reasons why institutions have to get rid of somebody, you don't simply cut them off and throw them in the garbage. You care about them. You work. You build them up. You try to give them chizuk. You try to give them some encouragement. And the Chofetz Chaim was balancing the needs of the Yeshiva with many students. And the fact that this was an individual in the shamah. Now, there's another story they tell about the Chofetz Chaim. And it's funny, I'm not sure if it's the same boy in the same story. But it's a bit of a similar story. A boy was Again, this is an interesting There's an interesting pre-story to this. Uh a rabbi was telling a story that he heard that the Chofetz Chaim once met for five minutes for five minutes with a boy that was mechallel Shabbos. And he said something to the boy that changed the boy's life. And the rabbi said, "If only I knew what the Chofetz Chaim said to that boy, I could bottle it and I could make Jews come close to Hashem." So in the back of the audience, there was an old man in a walker. Like 90 in his 90s. And he gets up and he says, "I am that boy." Now, these stories never happened to me. I don't know if this "I am that boy. And I'll tell you what the Chofetz Chaim said. I was mechallel Shabbos and I had to meet the Chofetz Chaim and I was scared to death. And I come in to the Chofetz Chaim and I was only 15, but the Chofetz Chaim was very short. I was already taller than the Chofetz Chaim. And the Chofetz Chaim lifts up his face, his holy face. And there's piercing blue eyes that the Chofetz Chaim had. And he takes my hand in his two hands. And there were tears that came down from his eyes and they fell on my my hand. And it was like a burning fire. And I saw the Chofetz Chaim's eyes so much pain for me. And so much love for me. And so much concern that I would because I wasn't keeping Shabbos, I would not be close to Hashem. And when I sensed that love, and he only said one word to me. He said, "Shabbos. Shabbos." And when I sensed his love for me, I then understood the love and the pain that Hashem has. And that changed my life. Now, I don't know how to mesh the two stories. I have one story where the Chofetz Chaim kicked somebody out and told the person that to stay in his house. Then I have this story. I don't know, is it the same boy? Is it the same incident? Is it two different stories? Uh so I don't know how to coordinate this. But both stories make a very beautiful point that discipline and rejection are not the same thing. There is in life, in raising children for example, of course there is discipline. There has to be discipline. Uh without discipline, a child has no direction. A child has no structure. Uh if you don't have rules for your child, it's not because you love him too much, it's because you don't love him enough to give him those standards. But never ever in the context of rejection. And going back to the Eglah Arufah, the Malbim is telling us that even the murderer, yes, it was a bad choice. Yes, he's responsible. Yes, he's accountable. He's not off the hook. But even the murderer perhaps would not have done what he had done had he not been rejected. And therefore, we as a community must say, whoever that that murderer is, we don't know, but what what what we're saying is far as we know, we took care of everybody who came through our town. Because if we didn't, we are responsible for the harm that took place. This is the lesson of Eglah Arufah. The enormous responsibility to the vulnerable. And the fact that if the vulnerable gets harmed because I didn't care enough, or if the vulnerable harms because I didn't care enough to give that person comfort and strength, God says, "I become a co-conspirator to that murder because I contributed." Again, it doesn't exonerate or lessen their responsibility, but it adds a layer of responsibility on my part. Why is this so important for Yosef to hear? Yosef has a divine mission. Yosef was sold into slavery. But in a type of story, as the expression goes, which you couldn't make up if you wanted to. Somehow Yosef becomes the most powerful person in the world. Right? He got into trouble by his dreams. And his dreams got him sold as a slave. But his interpretation of the butler and the baker's dream gets him out of prison. And his ability to interpret Pharaoh's dreams about the famine and the plenty gets him elevated. So Yosef's whole life is really almost a an unbroken dream sequence. The dreams got him into trouble. The dreams got him out of trouble. The dreams elevated him to kedusha. But what's the point? Right? Yosef tells his brothers, "You thought evil, but God sent me here to give you life." But here is the deeper meaning. Give you life doesn't just mean I'm here to take care of you in famine. But rather, Yosef knows that the long-awaited slavery is going to begin now. God had told Avraham that his descendants will be enslaved in a land that is not theirs. He didn't say when and he didn't say which land it would be. But now that Yosef is in Egypt and his brothers are in Egypt, Yosef knows that this is going to be the beginning. The slavery didn't start till after his death, but this is going to be the beginning of that long and bitter slavery. It was 210 years from the time the Jews came to Mitzrayim until Moshe Rabbeinu took them out. So it is Yosef's divine mission to impart to his brethren how they will survive that Egyptian servitude. He understands that that's why he's here. And Yosef did it in two ways. First, he shows us how to survive in a bitter galus at all extremes of the spectrum. He shows us how to be a faithful Jew in times of persecution, slavery, imprisonment because Yosef had that. And he shows us how to be a faithful Jew in times of affluence and prosperity and potential assimilation. So that's one lesson that he's doing. But there's another lesson. Keep in mind that the Jews were in Mitzrayim 210 years. Now, Hashem had told Avraham that they were supposed to be enslaved for 400 years. So they actually left Mitzrayim years earlier than they should have. Why is that so? Chazal teach us because in those 210 years, the Jews had descended morally into what is called the 49th level of impurity. There is a teaching, really cabalistically based, that there are 50 levels of spiritual degradation you can you can achieve, so to speak. And when you hit level 50, you're irredeemable. You're beyond hope. After 210 years, the Jewish people had reached the 49th level, and they were slipping fast. By the way, that's the 1/5 that survived. According to Hazal, 4/5 died in the plague of plague of darkness. And they had hit fit they had hit level 50. The people who were on level 49 were the 1/5 that survived. And I could they talk that the Arizal says, when the Torah tells us they didn't have time to let their dough rise, and that's why they had to bake it as unleavened bread, matzah. So, we think it's because Pharaoh was telling them, "Get out. Get out. Get out. Get out." and they had to bake it right away. They couldn't let it rise. But the Arizal says, it wasn't Pharaoh that was saying they have to leave now. It was the Almighty that said, "You have to leave now." We don't even understand this because in the few minutes that it takes for dough to become chametz, it only takes 18 minutes. They would have hit 50. "You have to leave now." So, the Jews were in a pretty bad situation. They were idol worshipers except for the tribe of Levi. They didn't do bris milah. So, what were their merits? So, it says they had a bunch of miscellaneous merits. They didn't change their name. They continued with their Hebrew name. They didn't change their language. They spoke Lashon Hakodesh. They spoke the Hebrew language. According to one some versions, they wore distinctively Jewish clothing. They didn't intermarry even though apparently they had the opportunity. And you may wonder, what do you mean inter- Who were they supposed to inter- I mean, would they The higher Egyptian culture would certainly not have accepted them? Well, number one, there were other slaves they could have married. But number two, people have a misconception. Uh there were Jewish slaves who actually uh were were high up in Egyptian society. There were people who worked for the king, etc. They They They were really very highly placed and highly respected. In fact, there were Jewish slaves who were rich in Mitzrayim. They're not described so much. I remember I was once in South Africa uh for Shavuot. So, before Yom Tov, uh we took a tour of Soweto. Soweto is the huge famous or infamous black slum outside of Johannesburg where you have I think hundreds of thousands of uh people living. Now, most of Soweto are shacks. People are living in poverty. And yet every once in a while in the middle of the surrounded by shacks, they're like big mansions there. It's very It was a funny It felt very unusual thing. In the middle of a decrepit slum of shacks, there managed to be I don't know if they're drug lords or whatever. I don't know what it is or businessmen. I have no idea. But there were actually in the slum, there actually were very very wealthy people. Apparently, even in the slavery of Egypt, there was great wealth. So, they could have intermarried. So, what were their merits again? They didn't change their name. Didn't change their language. They wore distinctive Jewish clothing. They didn't intermarry. And there's a final declaration. They did not speak Lashon Hara against each other. Now, by that I mean or the Medrash means, it doesn't mean they were learning the Chofetz Chaim and the laws of Shmiras Halashon. For sure they weren't doing that. But it means they weren't turning against each other by reporting to the authorities against fellow Jews. You know, one of the uh tragedies compounded of the Holocaust besides the devastating tragedy of the Holocaust itself, are the occasional stories of Jews turning against Jews, Jews informing on Jews in order to get some respite, some advantage for their families. Most of the time it didn't work. Most of the time the people who did the informing eventually got killed themselves. But there are There are stories in fact, God forbid, we even have We even have some instances after the war in which some Jews killed some of these informers for what they did. I'm just curious, what Is there anywhere listed what were these terrible sins that they did that brought them to the Oh, in Mitzrayim itself? uh yeah. Yeah, it was mainly I It was idolatry. Uh idolatry, yes. It was not uh sexual in in infidelity because it says they didn't intermarry. But it was mainly over the avodah zarah. Now, let's analyze this. What is so great about keeping your Hebrew name and speaking Lashon Hakodesh? This was not a matter of being from because they weren't from. They They They weren't They were idol worshipers. They were pagans. The answer must be that what kept them doing these things was not a sense of religiosity, but a sense of what we pejoratively call ethnic identity. Meaning, they had a strong sense, "I want to identify with my people. I want to keep my Hebrew name. I want to keep my Hebrew language. I want to marry a Jew. Yeah, I'm not from. Yeah, I'm not religious. Yeah, I don't keep mitzvahs. I don't know mitzvahs." So, what you see here is an amazing thing. That redemption took place. Without this, we would have hit level 50. The foundation of redemption was not belief in God. That came, and that was the purpose of redemption, to give us belief in God. The foundation of redemption was feeling that you are a part of the Jewish people. You want to suffer with their sufferings. You want to rejoice with their simchas. And once there's an identification with Am Yisrael, that is not the end all of redemption because the purpose of redemption was matan Torah, but it's the foundation of redemption. Without an identification with the Jewish people, redemption becomes impossible. I will tell you, you know, I I you know, I teach in Ohr Someayach and uh our clientele we we work with Jews largely who are not yet religious or in the process of becoming religious. And we often have college students who are not religious at all, but they want to learn and they want to explore. And you know, baruch Hashem, Ohr Someayach has been doing this for almost 50 years. And you know, they they've achieved quite a lot in terms of bringing people to Torah. But in my eight years in Ohr Someayach, there was one person that we had that was unbreakable. And that was the final one. This was a person. I don't know why he came. This was a person who simply had no feeling that there was anything special about being Jewish. He says, "Being Jewish didn't mean anything to him. It just happens to be, you know, a background." You see, when someone comes and says, "Well, I don't know if God gave the Torah. I don't really believe in the revelation of Sinai, but I'm a proud Jew." You got something to work with. The pride of being a Jew. So, even things that we make fun of like gastronomic Judaism, bagels and lox, things, at least that's a pride that a person says, "I want to do Jewish things." But when somebody doesn't have any sense of pride in being Jewish, you know, quite quite literally, you know, you don't have anything. Like, you know, you're looking for an opening. You're looking for something, some type of I don't want to use the word hook cuz that's not the way you know, we we shouldn't describe outreach as I hooked my fish. God forbid, that's not the way you do things. But you're looking for something to be able to persuade or be able to talk to the person. Says, "You're proud to be a Jew? Well, listen, you do mitzvahs, you do Torah, you're connecting to the Jewish people worldwide." You know, there's something that can resonate with the person. But if a person simply says being Jewish doesn't mean anything to him, what do you do? And in Mitzrayim, that was the foundation of redemption. Now, I lived in Chicago. I may have mentioned this, but I'll mention it again. I apologize. I lived in Chicago uh 30 years ago. And uh and then those days Devon Avenue was a major thoroughfare in Chicago. And it was mainly a Jewish street. Now, it's more Asian and Indian, although there's still a lot of Jewish stores there. But when I was there, it was exclusively a Jewish street. And on Devon Avenue, there was a kosher style restaurant, treif restaurant, kosher style restaurant called The Bagel. And I remember I still remember this. I walked by one Shabbos afternoon, a cold Chicago winter. And there was a sign in the window that says, "We give a free It's a Saturday. We give a free cup of free glass of wine with every order of cholent." So, I was thinking to myself, "What's the scenario here? Some guy walks in. He orders cholent, which is of course treif meat. Uh he pays for it on Shabbos. He's going to have non-kosher wine. W- what what is he doing really? Obviously, cholent and wine are connected to kiddush. And, you know, cholent that would just be Jewish religious food that we eat. In fact, cholent was invented for halachic reasons, right? Cholent is a halachic food. Not allowed Not allowed to cook on Shabbos, so they invented things that pre You know, that cook overnight from before Shabbos. Just like the gefilte fish. Gefilte fish was invented because of the prohibitions against separating bones on Shabbos, so you kind of have boned fish, so to speak. Fish from which the bones were removed. So, the answer must be that some guy walks by and he has a sentimental attachment to He remembers his bubby making cholent. He remembers his zaidy making kiddush. So, I was thinking to myself then I was a young man and cynical and I said to myself, "Oh, this type of sign represents everything that is wrong with American Judaism. The superficiality, the sentimentality, gastronomic Judaism, you know, eating the the foods is all that matters even though it's treif, even though you're violating Shabbos." I said, "This has no spiritual value whatsoever. This is a trivialization of real Judaism." So, was my thought then. But, you know, I don't think that way anymore. Because what I think to myself now I'm certainly older and I I hope wiser and you know, I'm not sure about that. What I think to myself now is here is a person I'm just I don't know I don't know the person. Whoever the person goes in doesn't have a background, doesn't know much about Judaism. But, he wants to connect. He wants to be connected. He wants to do something that he remembers that Jewish people does. So, he goes to a kosher-style restaurant and he has a kosher-style cholent and he has a kosher-style wine. And it's Shabbos because he knows that Shabbos you do something with cholent and wine. And what is he saying to himself? He's saying, "I just want to do something that's Jewish." Well, that's what got our forefathers out of Mitzrayim. Because without those merits I mean, they were on the 49th level. They were pretty bad. Without those merits level 50. That's it. You know, I don't know if you have this experience. I personally don't like it, but I wish I did like it because it should be something that I should like. That is, you walk in you're in an airport, you're wearing a kippah, people see that you're a religious Jew. So, all sorts of people go over to you and say, you know, and they sometimes whisper even, "You know, I'm Jewish, too." Or "I'm a member of the tribe." That's the expression. That's the expression they like to use. MOT Oh, it's becoming It's becoming abbreviation. Personally, I don't like it because usually I'm doing something and you know, these are intrusions. Okay, that's my problem, really. Because in reality in reality it is actually a very nice thing. Because the person says, "Maybe I don't know anything. Maybe I'm not religious. Maybe I don't keep all of these commandments, but I want you to know I'm still a Jew. And I want to connect." And that is the shoresh. It's not the end-all of redemption. This is interesting. In the 1970s when there still was the Soviet Union, so there was a lot of agitation to get Jews out of the Soviet Union. That's the first wave of of Jews Russian Jews who came to Israel. Many came to the United States as well. Uh and every synagogue conservative, reform, orthodox had a big poster on the lawn that said, "Let my people go." Like let my people go. Uh which is actually a mistranslation because what Moshe actually said to Pharaoh is shalach send my people. But, what's interesting, but besides that there's even a bigger mistake or an omission. Because the pasuk actually says, "Send my people so they will worship me." Shalach ami v'ya'avduni. They left out the v'ya'avduni. So, of course gastronomic Judaism is not the end of the game. Of course, it is not the ultimate purpose. But, it is a beginning. Ethnic identification is important. The sentimentality of wanting to be part of the Jewish people means a lot. And Fiddler on the Roof has a meaning. It has some some significance. So, this is Now, again, the significance is it saves you from hitting level 50. In other words, you can go down pretty low. You can be level 49, which is a very very bad place to be. But, you're not going to hit 50 as long as you have that pride of being Jewish. So, it's not something that we should be mezalzel. It's not something that we should we should cheapen. It's something that we should appreciate. We should be machazik. Yeah. Um I just wanted to ask how all ethnicities ethnicities um want to be want to feel belonged Yes. some belonging to their community. Yes. So, how do the people American community that have that have done You're saying that in trying not Yes. And it wasn't it wasn't religious. No, it was just to have that ethnic identity. Yeah. That's true for all ethnicities. I grant you it it is it is true. It is it is true. I You know, you know, Italians connect to Italians. Irish connect to Irish. Polish connect to Polish. Uh that's right. But, all I'm saying is that because it's more of a mystical idea. Because the ethnic identity of the Jew is intrinsically bound up with the holiness of God. So, you're connecting to God even if you don't know it. This, by the way, was Rav Kook's position about Zionism. Rav Kook made the point that secular Zionists who came to Israel, they had no thought of God, they had no thought of Torah. Not only that, some of them were anti-God and anti or atheists and anti-Torah. But, Rav Kook says they don't really understand what they're doing. They think they're expressing nationalism, socialism, ethnic identity, or whatever it is. In fact, it is their soul that is yearning to be close to God. So, this is a subconscious process, but because it is a reality of a process, it can bring a It can bring a person Not always, but it can bring a person to God. So, now let's go back to Eglah Arufah. Yosef has a divine mission to prepare the Jewish people to endure. But, in order to survive there has to be unity togetherness and responsibility because that is what kept us from hitting the 50th level. That is why Yosef needed to internalize the lesson of Eglah Arufah which is precisely about our responsibility and our connection to each other. Yosef needed the lesson which he in turn would then convey to Am Yisrael which gave them the survival skill to survive the galus of Mitzrayim. Now, let me mention quickly the second shot of the wagons which Rashi does not bring but it is brought in the Medrash. And that is the wagons are a remez to the wagons that the Jewish people will be using in the desert to transport the Mishkan. So, according to this, it's not Eglah, it's Agalah. Agalah And it's a remez to the Agalos haMishkan. Why would that be something significant that Yosef is communicating to Yaakov that there will be wagons that will transport the Mishkan? So, here there's another lesson that's involved. Let's look at the difference. The Mishkan, of course is nothing more nothing more or less than the Beit haMikdash of the desert. That in the desert we had a tabernacle. Once we come to Eretz Yisrael, we have the Har haBayit. We have Yerushalayim. I mean, there was Shiloh, but at least the the permanent Mikdash is the Har haBayit. But, there's a fundamental difference between Mishkan and Mikdash. Mikdash is a fixed unchangeable geographical spot. There is only one place in the world that has the sanctity to be the Beit haMikdash and the Holy of Holies. And that's Baruch Hashem, the Har haBayit which has not yet been fully liberated, but we hope b'meheira v'yameinu. Uh we should be zocheh to it. The Mishkan, on the other hand is a traveling Beit haMikdash. Today, the Mishkan is here. So, this ground is the holy ground. Tomorrow, it's there. So, that ground is the holy ground. Which means Mishkan and Mikdash represent an interesting dichotomy in Judaism. Because on one hand, Judaism has a concept called Kedushat haMakom. Some places are holier than other places. Right? Eretz Yisrael is holier than Chutz laAretz. Yerushalayim is holier than and rest of Eretz Yisrael, Har Habayit, Kodesh Hakodashim, right? There is a concept of Kedushat Hamakom. And that's undeniable. But, there is a certain mistake, a certain trap, that focusing on Kedushat Hamakom can cause a person. Because there are times in life where you're not able to be in the ideal Makom. Now, Makom I'm I'm metaphorically using not only for a particular geographical place, but even a given situation. A person might say, for example, that his Makom was learning full-time in Kollel. That's his idea of the spiritual Nirvana. But life does not always give you your spiritual Nirvana. Sometimes you're in Chutz La'Aretz. Sometimes you're in the working world. Sometimes you're away from the environment that can help you. So, side by side with the idea of Kedushat Hamakom, is a contrary idea that a Yid can connect to God anywhere. everywhere. The Chofetz Chaim says, that was the message Hashem conveyed to Moshe in the story of the burning bush. When Hakadosh Baruchu said, "Take off your shoes." The right the bush is is on fire, but it's not being consumed. Hashem said, "Take off your shoes because the place where you are standing is holy ground." The Chofetz Chaim says, "Those are Hashem's words to each and every one of us." We sometimes say, "If only I had the right place, the right family, the right job, the right Yeshiva, the right teacher, the right marriage, then I could serve Hashem. But never, I don't have all of these things. I can't really do it." The lesson is, like the Alcoholic's Prayer, what you can change for the better, you try to change for the better. But those factors of your life that are not changeable, you have to realize that God can be accessed precisely in those struggles. So, the Mishkan represents the idea of what what you might call the portability of holiness. That holiness can move with you as you go through life. And indeed, I want to point out historically, you know, if you if you if you again I I I'm more familiar with the United States. I'm not sure if this is true in other countries. But uh in the 19th century and the early 20th century, there were actually some very very great Rabbis in America. And many of them were in very out-of-the-way places, Omaha, Nebraska, South Dakota. And these Rabbis, virtually all of their children, actually all of almost all of the children are not religious at all. And many of them are so totally assimilated that their grandchildren, great-grandchildren, are not even halachically Jewish whatsoever. And if you read the literature of the time, you have this kind of feeling that the Rabbis who knew Brisk and Vilna and Minsk, and they came to America, and they saw it was a desert, and they saw they're never going to get a Vilna here, they're never going to get a Minsk here, they're never going to get a Brisk here, what's the point of doing anything? See, that's the trap of Kedushat Hamakom. Voltaire said, "The enemy of the better is the best." That means, when you have a certain image of perfection, that can sometimes inspire you, but it can sometimes be a trap in which when you're not in a situation that's conducive to that perfection, you give up. You get you have despair. You do nothing at all. And that actually is my sense of what happened with these great Rabbis. That they just gave up because they basically said, "If I'm not going to have Vilna, no, there's nothing great I can get here." As opposed to the idea, okay? It's not going to be that, but it'll be something. Doesn't have to be the same. New challenges, new environment. Now, that's exactly Yosef. Yosef could have been that same trap. Yosef came from Eretz Yisrael, the house of Yaakov. He's now all alone in Mitzrayim. He could have had the attitude, "Okay, when I was in that environment, I could serve Hashem at such a high level. Now, what's the use?" But when Yosef sends Yaakov the Agalot, which is the portability of Kedusha, he's telling Yaakov, "I got to adjust to my new challenge, and I did it." That's a very very important lesson. Because I know in Yeshiva we we see this all the time, you know, particularly, I mean, I'm not defending it, but um it's well known that the Chareidi Yeshivas typically push the idea that you're supposed to learn all day, like the rest of your life, basically. In other words, don't do anything else. And many people don't do that, can't do that, don't want to do that. So, they enter the working world, they become professionals, or they go into business, which is fine and noble. But you see, the downside of the Yeshiva philosophy sometimes gives a person a certain negativity in which they say, "Well, if the only meaningful relationship to God is a full-time intense learning, which I'm not going to do, then I am not capable of a meaningful relationship with God." That's the downside of of emphasizing Kedushat Hamakom over portability of Kedusha. Portability of Kedusha recognizes life changes, situations change, things don't remain frozen. But you have to understand, as the Chofetz Chaim says, every place where you are, there is a potential for holiness. And that is the second message. So, it turns out that the Agalot have a double message. The connection with Eglah Arufah is communal responsibility. And the connection with Mishkan, Agalot to Mishkan, is portability of holiness. And these are the two things Yaakov Yosef wanted to tell Yaakov. I remember the responsibility we have to have for each other. And I understand that when life situations change, one has to find the Kedusha in whatever situation that that they are in. Again, what you can change, you know, change. But what you don't change, you got to make it into something something good. That even the most difficult situations can be ways of growing in our Avodat Hashem. So, we wish everybody a good week and a good Shabbos. Thank you, people. Yibaneh, yibaneh, yibaneh yibaneh yibaneh yibaneh yibaneh yibaneh yibaneh