By Rabbi Rachel Sabath Beit-Halachmi, Ph.D.
Especially in times of crisis, our sacred Jewish texts can offer us enormous wisdom. So what can we can learn from the Bible that can help us in this moment?
While we may not be able to discern military wisdom or political predictions from the Book of Genesis, we can nevertheless gain profound insight into how our collective experiences and core values might apply to this situation. Some of these insights can be found especially in the Genesis narratives we read during these early winter weeks.
From Abraham to Joseph, the ‘first’ families of Genesis — like all families — certainly know their share of suffering, jealousy, deceit and love. But no narrative is filled with more hope than the narratives of Joseph and his brothers reconciling with each other (Gen. 44-45).
In his youth, Joseph, the wild dreamer and over-confident little brother, is thrown into a pit and nearly murdered by his brothers. Sold into slavery and later into jail, it is his capacities not only to dream but to interpret the dreams and hopes of others that enable him to save himself repeatedly (Gen. 37-41). But the story is not only about his individual survival.
Beyond revealing the narrative of a single individual’s struggle and journey, these chapters speak about the capacity of a family — the Jewish family — to be torn in every way and yet ultimately to find each other anew, to reconcile, and to heal. Crisis tears them apart. But avoiding future crises helps them to reconcile. But if we must read these narratives over and over again every year, we can see in them not only the stories of individuals but the unfolding meta-narrative of a people.
Joseph’s struggle in the pit, his survival, rise to power and use of his power to save and protect his family are not just about that particular family, but ultimately it is about the family of the Jewish people as a nation and that nation’s longing not only for survival but for homeland. The last demand Joseph makes is that his bones not be buried in Egypt but that they be brought to the Land of Israel (Gen. 50 and Ex. 13). From the pits of history we have survived, and from the thrones of power we have responsibility.
What initially appears to be a long narrative about the mishaps of Jacob’s sons and their jealousies turns into a multi-generational saga of how we can learn both how jealousy and hate can destroy a family, and at the same time we can learn how despair can become hope and how hate can end in reconciliation.
Might these complex narratives also implant in us the possibility of reinterpreting our own past and our own suffering? While it’s not entirely clear that Joseph ultimately forgave the brothers who sought to kill him, it is clear that he is less interested in revenge for the past and more interested in what the future might hold.
The possibilities of peace and reconciliation always seem most impossible in the midst of conflict and war. Not every conflict can end in reconciliation the way the Joseph narrative does. The Bible also teaches us that even in a time of peace, we need to be aware of every pharaoh who comes to power and the ways they might seek our destruction.
This is so difficult to do, especially in the midst of war. Like you, I am deeply mourning all of the innocent people in Israel who were murdered on Oct. 7th and since. As I write this, we are all praying fervently for the speedy and safe return of all the captives and for the protection of the Israel Defense Forces and all of Israel’s citizens. Yes, it’s much too soon to say anything about the current war that our beloved present day State of Israel is facing, but it is never too soon to pray for peace and to imagine “the day after.”
It may take months, but one day we will get there.
Ultimately, Joseph prevails — and the Jewish People survive — not only because of his human wisdom and leadership, but because of his determination to ensure that the whole land of Egypt could flourish. Once Joseph reaches a state of security and maturity, he can return to making his bigger dreams reality. Instead of dwelling on the past and his personal suffering, he was motivated much more by love and the concern for our collective future. He never lost sight of his vision for the future.
We, as individuals and as a people, might soon stand at a similar crossroads. While we don’t know how long it will take, I am confident that we, too, will ultimately achieve a state of peace in Israel and a greater sense of security for Jews around the world. But for how long will we dwell on the suffering of the past and the desire for revenge?
How many months — or years — will we need to process the horrors of the current reality? How best can we support the State of Israel, the world Jewish community, and each of us individual Jews as we respond? How many years — or generations — will we continue to be overwhelmed by the horrors and suffering of this time and for how long it will cloud our vision of the future?
I pray that while we continue to mourn every soul we have lost, rebuild the destroyed communities in Israel, and begin to incorporate all the lessons we need to learn, we will also be able to transcend this suffering and this war so that we can dream beyond this moment.
This may not be possible until we reach Simchat Torah next year, but when we do, we will be able to focus anew on the grander humanistic goals of the State of Israel and of Judaism itself. Even in these terrible moments, we cannot forget that we are a people committed to the sanctity of human life.
And we must not forget our ultimate goal — articulated best by the prophet Micah (4:4) — to bring about a world in which each of us, every human being, “can sit beneath our vine and fig trees and none shall make us afraid.”
Rabbi Rachel Sabath Beit-Halachmi, Ph.D., is the inaugural senior spiritual leader at Har Sinai-Oheb Shalom Congregation in Pikesville.
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