Message From The Rabbi

Rabbi Spike Anderson

This week’s Torah portion is Vayigash from the book of Genesis, and it contains the climax of the Joseph saga.  Remember, as a teenager, Joseph had been thrown into a pit, and then sold into slavery by his jealous brothers.  Once in Egypt he is accused of a crime he did not commit, and thrown into prison.  Certainly, this is not how he expected his life to go, but with each ‘setback’, he remembers who he is (at his core), keeps his faith, and manages to make the best of each situation.  Eventually, he is taken from prison by a fickle Pharoah, and placed in charge of Egypt’s grain storage in the face of an upcoming famine.  When his brothers in Canaan (Israel) come to Egypt for grain to escape the famine, Joseph (unrecognizable as an Egyptian grand vizier) puts them through their paces.

Eventually, after intense drama, we have what they call in Hollywood ‘The Big Reveal’, where Joseph, with tears and sobs, reveals who he really is to his helpless brothers.  It is a profound moment of vulnerability for everyone involved.  His brothers are speechless.  As Joseph explains to them how his change of fortune occurred, he says to his brothers (who had sold him into Egyptian slavery): “It was not you who sent me here, but God.” (Gen. 45:8)  

Our sages point out that when Joseph looked back on the events of his life that brought him to that moment, including the ones that might have left him despondent at the time, he realized that each of those set-backs and challenges gave him the experience that he needed to eventually save his family and countless other lives.  He would not have been the man he was without his past, especially the hard stuff.

Many of us can look at events in our own lives and relate to Joseph in this moment.  Even if we do not have a personal theology that ‘everything happens for a reason’ (which retrospectively can seem ‘right’ when everything has ‘worked out in the end’), we can see how disappointments (even tragedies) in the moment can forge our resolve, and our character, for a future eventuality.  Or, to coin a colloquialism: When one door closes, another door opens (for us to walk through).  The theology that can come from this rests on the idea that there is a plan, and someone (God) who is directing it, or at least encouraging it.

For me, personally, I can’t help but think about a significant athletic injury I sustained in the final week’s of my senior year of High School which tremendously curtailed my ability to continue playing Lacross at a collegiate level.  At the time, I was devastated.  But, the newfound time allowed me the opportunity to go on a semester abroad to Israel (something I would never have done had I still been playing), where I reconnected to Judaism as an adult,  which led me to go into the rabbinate a decade later.  In other words, if not for the injury, I am very doubtful if I would ever have become a rabbi… and I love being a rabbi. 

I’m not sure if I truly believe that God had anything to do with my High School injury or the series of events that had to happen for me to be here, but I am sure that when I read Joseph’s story and hear him say “It was not you who sent me here, but God,” I feel like he is speaking both to me and for me.

Do you have a story like this?  Email me.  I am interested.

B’shalom,

Rabbi Spike