In the Parsha of Vayigash, in a moment we have been greatly anticipating, Yosef reveals his identity to his brothers. “I am Joseph, is my father still alive?” His brothers could hardly answer him, the Torah tells us, because they were so taken aback to realize this was Yosef their brother.
The Midrash, however, supplies words for the reaction they expressed: “Whoa unto us the day of judgment, whoa unto us the day of rebuke!” What is the meaning of this rebuke (תוכחה)?
The Shem Mishmuel suggests that they felt rebuke without Yosef even saying anything further—a very specific type of rebuke. They felt the great loss of potential in Yosef. He had become such a great man in Egypt, after enduring the most difficult of circumstances. Just imagine if he been allowed to grow up in their homeland, under their father’s tutelage. How much greater might he have become? Imagine all the blessings he could have brought to them right at home? Who knows what dreams he could have realized without his suffering?
We are only left to imagine what could have been, perhaps with the land of Canaan blessed with years of plenty and Yosef leading his brothers in peace as the rest of the world came to them for sustenance, both physical and spiritual.
After the recent tragic and horrific shooting in Newtown, CT, we were all overwhelmed with grief, and left almost speechless. How, indeed, can one react to such an event?
We will all hear and read many reactions from every sector: Legislators will look at gun control; school administrators will put greater safety measures in place; faith communities will grapple with questions of theodicy, trying to justify God’s ways; mental health professionals will be called upon to bring peace to those affected, and to suggest ways of stopping individuals with mental or emotional issues from acting out dangerously.
One sentiment conveyed by the President just hours after the attack struck a chord with me:
“They had their entire lives ahead of them—birthdays, graduations, weddings, kids of their own. Among the fallen were also teachers, men and women who devoted their lives to helping children fulfill their dreams.”
What a tragedy, knowing that those young children will never realize any of their childhood dreams…
None of us knows what the future holds…. We mourn this tragedy of loss of life, of the wasted potential of these precious lives, and we pledge to do what we can to make sure it never happens again…
I think we should not also lose sight of what we can learn from the experience and recognize how precious life truly is…. Each of who has the blessing of life needs to make sure we are reaching our full potential…
Have we developed the relationships we always said we were going to get around to? With our spouses, children, friends?
Have we made progress on the goals we set for ourselves in our spiritual lives- commitments to Torah, Tefilla, Tzedaka, Chesed? Are we really doing all that we can, giving all that we can?
And as a community, will we reach our true potential? Will BIAV be not only a last stronghold of Orthodoxy in Kansas City, but rather a bastion of warmth, spirit, and inspiration for all at the heart of the community?
Will we grow into a bona fide, vigorous Orthodox community that raises generations of precious Bnei and Bnot Torah, Jewish boys and girls knowledgeable about their heritage and mentschlich in their behavior, a true dor yesharim? Will our Matmidim program at HBHA really grow into what it needs to be to make sure that we get there?
Let us use this opportunity to mourn the tragedy of lost potential but also make sure that we don’t waste our own potential as individuals and as a community. This is not the only thing we can learn but it is a proper tribute to react to a tragedy by looking inwards and seeing what we can do better. Let us come together to realize our dreams to their fullest