Parashat Shoftim - The Pursuit of Justice

 

“Other cultures discovered order, Yisrael discovered Justice,” - Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks

Parashat Shoftim, this week’s Torah portion (Deuteronomy 16:18-21:9) centers on structures of justice, leadership and authority in the Yisraelite society. While other portions are more narrative based or ritual centered, Shoftim lays out the framework for a just society and its insitutions.

There are four roles of leadership that are discussed in the Parashah. They are clearly defined and are aimed at ensuring the separation and preventing abuse of powers, in ancient Yisrael.

The first is the appointment of Judges and the establishment of the court system. The second is the king who exercises a limited monarchy with restrictions. The priests and the Levites  are the third. They are entrusted with spiritual and moral authority. The fourth role is the one held by the prophets who act as moral and divine authority, true vs. false prophets.

Don Yitzchak Abrabanel emphasizes that the Torah deliberately distributes authority among these four roles. Such distribution, he asserts, where each power checks the other ensures that no one branch becomes harsh or tyrannical thus creating a system that balances justice with compassion and morality. This essay focuses on the role of judges and the delivery of justice.

The Torah describes two main sources for Moshe’s education and knowledge of the court system. The first, Yitro, his father- in- law who introduced and taught him about the practice and its structure. The second, G-d who sanctioned it and commanded its authority and permanence.

 In Exodus 18:13–26), Yitro advises Moshe to “Provide from among the people men of valour, G-d-fearing, men of truth, who hate unjust gain, and appoint them as officials over thousands, hundreds, fifties, and tens.” Yitro’s guidance also introduces Moshe to the framework of a hierarchical judicial system of decentralized courts, with lower courts handling easier cases and only the most difficult cases reaching Moshe. G-d’s Divine sanction and expansion in the form of a formal mitzvah calls to appoint (by recognized authorities, which the Sifrei, a midrashic halachic commentary, defines as the leaders of the tribe, and not elected by popular vote) judges in every city with justice bound by Torah law (Deuteronomy 16:18).

The criteria for appointing judges require that they be men of valour (Deuteronomy 16:18-20), possess “wisdom,” “understanding”  and be “respected”(Deuteronomy 1:13).  Ramba”n explains that these traits mean having deep Torah knowledge, the ability to apply principles to new situations and maintaining a strong reputation among the people. Judges should display fear of G-d , honesty, impartiality and rejection of bribes (Exodus, 18:21), (Leviticus, 19:15). 

This shows that the Torah envisions a justice system based not on popularity, favouritism, but on equality as well as moral and spiritual integrity.

The justice system established by Moshe was revolutionary for its time, compared to other main Ancient Near Eastern legal practices and structures such as the Code of Hammurabi, Hittite laws and others.

Firstly, the Torah decrees that justice comes directly from G-d “For judgment is G-d’s” (Deuteronomy 1:17). This makes law sacred above human rulers. Even the kings must obey G-d’s law. Judges are commanded to act as representatives of G-d’s will. In other ancient near eastern societies, laws were issued by kings who claimed divine authority but were, themselves, above the law. Hammurabi, for instance, claimed that the gods chose him to “establish justice,” yet not judged by the law himself. 

Secondly, unlike other ancient Mesopotamian cultures where laws were often applied differently based on class and status which primarily protected the power of kings, the elites and the hegemony, the Torah commands the system to protect the vulnerable, restrain rulers, and elevate justice into a universal principle of “one law for all” (Exodus 12:49, Leviticus 24:22). This means that even the powerless, the orphan, the widow and the ger (stranger/foreigner), society’s weakest, are protected (Deuteronomy 24:17-18).

Whereas in ancient Near-Eastern societies harsh punishments were common, reflecting power and deference rather than mercy, in the Torah, while strict, justice is tempered by compassion (Exodus 22:21-23) and limits on punishment (“eye for an eye” interpreted as monetary compensation). 

Finally, in other systems, courts were ad hoc and king-centered. Moshe established a network of judges in every city (Deuteronomy 16:18) and cities of refuge to prevent blood vengeance.

In his commentary on the parashah, Rabbi Lord Sacks states, “Judaism…sees society as the arena in which specific ideals are realized: justice, compassion, the rule of law combined with respect for the sanctity of life and the dignity of the individual. The Torah is a unique attempt to create a nation governed not by the pursuit of power or the accumulation of wealth but by recognition of the worth of each person as the image of G-d. 

Moshe’s justice system certainly reflects these principles. It is not about maintaining order- it is about creating a society that manifests G-d’s justice and human dignity.

Cities of Refuge

“You shall designate cities for yourselves; they shall be Cities of Refuge for you, and a murderer who killed a person unintentionally shall flee there” Bamidbar  (Numbers) 35:11

As Am Yisrael is about to enter the Promised Land, Moshe is instructed to designate six “cities of refuge,” three on each side of the Jordan river, to which anyone who accidentally kills a person can escape.  The purpose of such cities is to provide refuge, where the killer will be safe from being killed by a blood relative of the dead.

 

The vengeance of blood (or blood revenge) was a central concept in justice systems across the Ancient Near East. It refers to the right or duty of a family member to avenge the killing of a relative—usually through killing the murderer. This practice shaped legal codes, tribal customs, and religious thought in many ancient cultures. 

The Code of Hammurabi (18th century BCE), for instance, includes provisions for blood vengeance. In case someone kills another, the victim’s family could put that person to death. Retribution, in this Code, was based on lex talionis, “an eye for an eye.” Blood vengeance was also present in Hittite, Ugarit and Canaanite as well as in the ancient Hebrew laws.

However, as Lord Rabbi Sacks explains, in early societies, where blood vengeance was practiced, “there was a concern that people would take the law into their own hands,” which “would begin a cycle of vengeance and retaliation,” where, “one revenge-killing leading to another and another, until the community had been decimated.” 

In order to prevent unjust violence, it was, therefore, important to distinguish between murder, a deliberate killing and manslaughter, unintentional death. 

Over time, Ancient Near Eastern Societies, such as those mentioned above, moved toward a centralized legal system which distinguished between these two forms of killings. It gradually restricted blood vengeance as well as allowing kings and temples to assume more authority in criminal justice. Additionally, legal codes ( e.g.,Hammurabi, Mosaic law) attempted to channel vengeance through regulated procedures or sanctuary laws and permitted compensation in the form of monetary payment in place of blood revenge. 

While the notion of sanctuary or places of refuge which are one of the themes in this week’s Parasha, Masei, also existed in Mesopotamian societies, these were mostly confined to religious sites. The formalized, legalistic system of the Mosaic Cities of Refuge, though, is a distinct development. They did not have solely religious and legal importance; they also had moral and symbolic significance. 

Firstly, these cities did not only provide protection from vengeance, mostly for the accidental killer from the blood avenger who could seek retribution. They also prevented further bloodshed and more killings. 

Secondly, legally, the Mosaic concept provided due process. Although the main purpose of cities of refuge was to protect the accidental killer, in practice, murderers who killed intentionally went there as well (Talmud, Makkot 9b and 12a). Upon arriving in the City of Refuge, the court sent messengers to escort that person while, also, acting as his bodyguards and bring him in for a hearing. If the judges decreed that the murder was intentional, the verdict would be accordingly. However, if the judges ruled that his act of killing was unintentional, the messengers would accompany him back to the city of refuge for a mandatory stay. So long as the killers remained within the city limits, they were protected by law. They had to remain there until the death of the High Priest.

The mandatory stay in the City of Refuge is aimed at teaching a symbolic and spiritual lesson. The symbolic exile to a City of Refuge suggests a form of penance and moral reflection. It is aimed to tell us that even unintentional death is serious and requires atonement and rehabilitation. According to Ramba”n, it is a means to carry out Divine justice.Taking a life, he suggests, whether intentional or not, upsets the moral balance of the world.

The spirtual lesson relates to the revered status of the High Priest who represented the collective soul of the People. His death, which provided communal atonement and allowed the killer to leave the city, stressed the High Priest’s spiritual role for the nation. 

Midrash takes the importance of the role of the City of Refuge even one step higher. It explicitly compares the City of Refuge to Torah. “Just as the Cities of Refuge save lives, so, too, does Torah.”Midrash Tanhuma Buber (Appendix to Va’Etchanan,4).  In other words, just as someone, who accidentally killed someone, could find safety in a City of Refuge, engaging with Torah provides spiritual refuge, protection and healing.

It is noteworthy to mention that to ensure the clear and open access to justice, Talmud stresses the importance of precise and well marked signage to cities of refuge. “The roads to the Cities of Refuge were to be well-maintained and signposted….” (Makkot, 9b-10a). Likewise, Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Rotzeach u’Shmirat Nefesh (law of Murder and Protection of Life) where Ramba”m codifies the laws of the cities of refuge, he writes: “The court must prepare and repair the roads leading to the Cities of Refuge…They must build bridges, remove obstacles, and post signs: ‘Miklat (refuge)! Miklat!’ so that no one errs on the way. (Hilchot Rotzeach 8:5).

The sanctity of life is of utmost importance in the Torah and Jewish tradition. The Cities of Refuge reflect this value. They highlight the Torah’s underlying view of justice, combining accountability, compassion and restorative principles. They offer a deeply humane approach to dealing with bloodshed, tragedy, moral responsibility, spiritual growth and societal healing.

The Balance Sheet of Moshe's Sin and Its Punishment

 

“.........therefore, you will not bring this congregation into the land that I have given them.” – Numbers 20:12

Over three decades ago, I visited Jordan for the first time. One of the points of our tour was the site of the Biblical Mount Nevo, part of the Abarim mountain range. As I was standing there, inhaling the breathtaking view of “The Promised Land,” I could not help but think of Moshe, the greatest leader of Am Yisrael. The words of G-d’s decree to him, as expressed in Deuteronomy 32:52, “For from afar you will see the land, but you will not come there, to the land I am giving the children of Yisrael” were echoing against my Jewish essence and aching my heart. In my mind’s eye, I could picture Moshe standing there seeing his life’s goal his dissolving into dust. G-d delivered the punishment He had decreed, as stated in the verse above from this week’s Parasha, Chukat.

Many Jewish scholars have deliberated and discussed the incident related to the verse above. There are two questions concerning Moshe’s action and its ensuing punishment that I would like to address here.

The first focuses on the sin itself. The Parasha tells us that Bnei Yisrael are thirsty. G-d commands Moshe and Aharon to speak to the rock so that water will come forth. Instead, Moshe hits the rock, twice. The question that is begging to be asked is, if the directive given by G-d mentions speaking to the rock, why would hitting it turn Moshe's act from what might be regarded a minor form of disobedience into a sin, especially in light of past experience where G-d orders him to hit a rock, at Horev, in order to draw water (Exodus 17:1-7)?  

Rash”i bases his answer on Midrash. He believes that speaking would have been a greater Kiddush Hashem (sanctification of G-d’s name), indicating that even a rock obeys G-d’s word.

Ramba”m suggests that Moshe’s sin was losing his temper and calling the people “rebels.” It was a failure of leadership by displaying anger thus setting a poor example.

I would like to take Ramba"m’s interpretation one step further, one that is not a traditional theological one. I would suggest a psychological perspective where the act of hitting the rock might be perceived as “projection.” In psychoanalytical terms, “projection” is a defense mechanism where  internal frustration, anger or impatience, in this case with Am Yisrael, manifests itself physically by hitting the rock instead of speaking to it.

The second question has, likewise, been preoccupying our sages over time. It centers on balancing between the sin and its punishment.

Jewish tradition emphasizes that sin has consequences. The Babylonian Talmud clarifies that punishment should be proportionate. It was Rabbi Shmuel Bar Nachmani, speaking for Rabbi Yonatan, who coined the Hebrew phrase, “Mida Keneged Mida” meaning “measure for measure.” (Sanhedrin, p.90, column a). The phrase refers to the concept of Divine retribution, where deeds are met with a corresponding consequence, negative or positive, suggesting that G-d’s judgment is not arbitrary but rather reflects the nature of the action performed.

Moreover, the Talmud clarifies that warnings are necessary before melting out punitive action. “Ein onshin elah im kein mazhirim” is a Talmudic dictum which means that a punitive action is not meted out for the transgression of a prohibition unless there is a prior scriptural warning. (Makkot 17b).

It is obvious that Moshe was not forewarned about any consequences that his actions might carry. However, the more important part of this question, as crystallized by Lord Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, is what "offence could warrant so great a punishment as not to be privileged to see the conclusion of the mission he had been set by G-d?" A just question. Sacks is not the only one who addresses the disproportionality between Moshe's sin and its punishment.

The commentaries and debates on this issue are as numerous as those who dwelled on it in search of an answer.

In his commentary on the Torah, Rabbi Don Isaac Abravanel (15th-century Spanish-Portuguese commentator) suggests that Moshe's and Aaron's punishment for not entering the Promised Land was not solely due to the incident of striking the rock instead of speaking to it.  Abravanel proposes that their actions were the proximate cause and not the sole cause for their exclusion. 

According to Abravanel, their punishment is the result of past transgressions. Moshe's punishment was connected to his role in the Sin of the Spies, resulting in forty years of wandering. Aaron's punishment, on the other hand, was attributed, by Abravanel, to his participation in the Golden Calf incident. 

Abravanel argues that to protect their honour, these previous sins were not explicitly stated as the reason for their punishment in the biblical text. Their failure to enter the Promised Land was not the consequence of that single mishap but rather a culmination of earlier transgressions. It merely served as the trigger, allowing G-d to administer the punishment for those earlier, more significant sins (Perush Abravanel al HaTorah)

Today, thirty-some years after my visit to Mount Nevo, my heart still throbs at the recollection of the experience. Perhaps G-d held him to a stricter standard, I often wander and he was, therefore, decreed to die in the wilderness, I keep repeating to myself. 

There is no doubt, though, that Moshe was a great leader and a supreme teacher. If not for his great leadership, we would have never left Egypt. His leadership, as we know, was short-lived. His legacy as a teacher, on the other hand, has lasted for over several millennia, and will forever continue to light the path not only for our Jewish People but for humanity as a whole.

The Validation of Hope – the Core of Jewish Survival

 

         Pessimism is a luxury that a Jew can never allow himself – Golda Meir

Tragedy, unfortunately, is part of everyone’s life. Some heartbreaking experiences are more profound than others. All, however, touch us in every aspect of our life.

This week’s Parashah, Shmini, recounts a tragedy that befell Aharon, Moshe’s brother. The story is a mingle of great joy, cloaked with holiness but at the same time eclipsed and shrouded with loss and grief.

 It is the first of the month of Nissan and the dawning of a new day. Moshe and Bnei Yisrael are preparing to mark a great milestone in our history. After seven days of preparations and training,  Aharon and his sons are ready to receive the scepter of Priesthood, and the Mishkan (Tabernacle) is ready to be inaugurated.  

On the Eight day (Shmini) as Bnei Yisrael are gathering for the long-awaited ceremony, Moshe tells them, “For today, the Lord will appear to you” (Vayikra 9:4). He invites Aharon and his sons to offer a sacrifice to G-d. Shortly thereafter, the celebrations reach a climax with the spectacular appearance of the glory of G-d as fire came forth “from before the Lord and consumed upon the altar the burnt offering and the fat; and when all the people saw it, they shouted, and fell on their faces (Vayikra 9:24).

This spectacle full of reverence, bursting with holiness and ecstasy turns, in a flash, into a catastrophe. Without any warning “there came forth fire from before the Lord, and devoured” Avihu and Nadav, the sons of Aharon (10:2). G-d, it turns out, thy “offered unauthorized fire before the Lord, contrary to His demand” (10:1).

How does one respond to such a tragedy?

Moshe speaks first. “This is what the Lord spoke of when he said: ‘Among those who approach me, I will be proved holy; in sight of all the people I will be honoured’” (10:3). Rashi bases his interpretation of this verse on Midrash. According to him, “Moshe says to Aharon, ‘Aharon, my brother, I knew that the Mishkan will be sanctified by the presence of those who are close to G-d. I assumed that he meant either you or me; now I see that they (Nadav and Avihu) are greater than me and you.” In other words, the holier a person is, the greater are G-d’s exigencies of him.

Aharon remains silent. He is not complaining. He is not lamenting his bad fortune. His silence, in my view, reflects inner strength and the ability to confront difficult and painful realities.

Moshe moves on. He orders the removal of the bodies and briefs Aharon and his remaining sons about the laws of mourning. He also adds directives aimed at preventing the recurrence of such incidents and moves on to check if the sacrifices scheduled for that day were made.

Moshe turns to Aharon and tells him not to display publicly his mourning for fear that G-d may become angry with the entire community. “Know well,” he adds, “that your brethren, the entire House of Yisrael, shall bewail the burning that G-d has rekindled. Do not leave this place in the sanctuary,” he advises him, “for G-d’s anointing oil is upon you” (10:6-7). Aharon accepts Moshe’s words. His only concern, so it seems from verse 19, is that his silence not be interpreted as his possessing inhumane traits.

The psychological aspect of the exchanges between Moshe and Aharon, in the aftermath of the tragedy, is fascinating. In the first, Moshe, in his strong desire to console his brother who has just lost two sons, tells him that G-d “will display” His “holiness through those who come near” Him.

The second exchange is when Moshe directs the bereaved Aharon to remain in the Mishkan and continue to perform the duties of his role as Kohen Gadol (High Priest). One may understand Moshe’s words to mean that even though he feels Aharon’s pain, the latter is no longer a private person. On this critical day, the people need him to remain strong, guide them and conform to the role that he has been anointed to fulfill. Aharon, so it seems, is aware of the enormity of his position and despite his pain and anguish accepts it and resumes his duties, as prescribed by the protocol.

The intricacy of the account of this discourse captures, in my view, the essence of Jewish survival through our sanguineous history. Despite ongoing suffering, losses and death which have been the lot of our Jewish People, our desire to move on has never been extinguished. We have simply refused to give up. We could not afford to give up. The determination to ignite Hope at our darkest moments has been a beacon along the path of our historical timeline. It is the secret of our Jewish survival.

One modern day example which comes to mind and parallels the account of Aharon’s misfortune is the sad experience which befell the late general Raful (Refael Eitan) who was the IDF Chief of Staff, between the years 1978-1983. He was also very instrumental in planning and executing “Operation Opera,” the bombing of the Iraqi nuclear power plant in June 1981.

A month prior to the operation, his son Yoram, an IAF pilot was involved in a training accident. Raful was in Yerushalayim, in a government meeting, when it happened. Upon receiving the news, Raful left the meeting. He did not utter a word, just like Aharon in this week’s Parashah. His widow, Miriam, shared, years later, that Raful picked her from her office soon after he heard about the catastrophe but did not mention it until they reached their home. General Amos Yadlin, a pilot who partook in that operation, visited Raful’s home during the Shiv’a.  Just before Yadlin was about to leave, Raful caught him and said, “Don’t think that just because I am sitting Shiv’a, I will not come to the briefing.”

Like Aharon, Raful understood that he was not a private person and could not let his personal tragedy interfere with the important task that had been delegated to him. Yisrael needed him and counted on him just as Am Yisrael needed and counted on Aharon at the inauguration of the Mishkan. They were both entrusted and staunchly adhered to guiding and protecting Am Yisrael and the Jewish People as well as validating and keeping the spirit of Hope for a safer and better future for them.

Shabbat Shalom
 

Do Clothes Maketh a Man? In the Case of the High Priest, Yes

 

Garments are the frame that man creates, both towards himself – that which he wishes to be - and towards others and what they think about him. It also serves his role, assists, and allows him in performing his job

The finery of the Temple Priests, especially that of the Kohen Gadol High Priest (which is the focus of this article) is one of the main themes of this week’s Parashah, “Tetzaveh” (You Shall Command). These are described in exhaustive details as are their fabrics, ornaments, their function, and the accompanying protocol to wearing them.

 “Make sacred garments for your brother Aharon to give him dignity and honour,” G-d tells Moshe (Shemot 28:2). There are four pieces of clothing that are peculiar to the High Priest, described in Shemot 28:4-5.

The directive from G-d to Moshe is to make “a breastplate {containing twelve precious stones inscribed with the names of the twelve tribes of Yisrael}, an ephod {an apron like garment}, a robe, and a Tzitz {a headdress with a golden plate worn on the forehead bearing the inscription “Holy to G-d”}. They are to make these sacred garments….Have them use gold, and blue, purple and scarlet yarn and fine linen.” (Shemot 28:4-5). (It is important to note that these are to be worn all days of the year, except for Yom Kippur when the High Priest wears only white).

According to Ramba”n (13^th century, Spain), “these garments resemble those of royalty in form. At the time of the Torah, the monarchy would have worn such clothing. The tunic signifies leadership just as Yoseph was presented by his father with a ‘tunic of many stripes’…thus Aharon was to be clothed as a king of ancient times…….the miter is still worn by royalty and nobility to this day….the breastplate and ephod are regal attire and the headband is still a crown. The material used to make these garments, namely gold, sky-blue, purple and crimson, are precious and rare.”

Despite the similarities between the garb of the High Priest and those of a king, they differ in substance. Unlike kings, the attire of the High Priest constitutes “Bigdei Kodesh” (holy vestments).

Their sacred nature is signified in a few ways.

The first is rooted in their inclusion in the instructions for building the Mishkan (Tabernacle) and its furnishings. This suggests that these garments are not the personal property of the High Priest but rather a part of the Mishkan’s sacred components, as described in Shemot 39:1-31.

Additionally, the fabrics used to manufacture the garments of the High Priest are made and styled in the same fashion of those used in the most sacrosanct sections of the Mishkan. They are to be worn only when the High Priest enters the interior part of the sanctuary, twice daily, morning and evening.

The unique essence of the Priestly garb is further stressed by Rabbi Inyani Bar Sasson (3^rd century). According to him, each of the Priestly robes is intended to atone for a particular sin committed by members of Am Yisrael akin to the function of the sacrifices (Babylonian Talmud, Zevachim 68). He claims that it is not by coincidence that the Parashah addressing sacrifices is adjacent to the one focusing on Priesthood. Rabbi Bar Sasson lists offences, light as well as serious, for which different Priestly clothing items grant clemency.

The detailed directive describing the opulent garments of the High Priest, and their role have engaged Jewish sages over the years. Of particular interest was the command to “Make pomegranates of blue, purple and scarlet yarn around the hem of the robe, with gold bells between them….Aharon must wear it when he ministers. The sound of the bells will be heard when he enters the Holy Place before the Lord and when he comes out, so that he will not die” (28:33-35).

Rabbenu Bahya (Spain, c. 1050-1120) suggests that the bells serve two purposes. The first is akin to knocking on the door of the Entrance Hall of the inner Sanctuary to announce the arrival of the High Priest. According to him, since the Divine Kingdom is similar to an earthly one, anyone who abruptly enters the king’s hall is sentenced to death. To support his claim, Rabbenu Bahya, cites the Book of Esther 4:11, “All the king’s officials and the people of the royal provinces know that for any man or woman who approaches the king in the inner court without being summoned, the king has but one law: that they be put to death.”

Image of a golden bell ornament believed to be worn by a High Priest or another important leader from Second Temple period discovered in Yerushalayim in 2011

The second objective of the bells, proposes Bahya, is to alert G-d’s angels. Even though G-d and His celestial servants know all, it is important to alert them lest they harm the High Priest for interrupting the Divine repose.

The Rashba”n argues that the bells are there as a public notice for people announcing the approach of the High Priest. It serves as a warning in order to comply with the commandment which forbids the presence of anyone in the Hall when the High Priest is about to perform his holy duties.

Hezekiah ben Manoach (13^th century) suggests that the bells are there to remind Am Yisrael of prayer times and divert their attention towards that duty. He also believes that the bells help distinguish between the High Priest and the lay ones.

Clothes have cultural and social significance. The main message in this week’s Parashah presents us with another kind, a holy one, decreed by G-d Himself.

Judging by the opening verses of the Parashah, one cannot help but surmise that the main intent of the Priestly garb is to bestow “dignity and honour” upon those wearing it. This tendency goes hand in hand with the commandments concerning the construction of the  Mishkan and its unique vessels. They are aimed at spurring the awareness that the G-d of Yisrael is the G-d of the whole universe. It is, therefore, only appropriate that His servants, should, likewise, appear majestic, be dressed in “splendid and fine clothes…to be held in great reverence by all” (Ramba”m).

Dreamers and Dreams

 

This week’s Parashah, “Miketz,” just like “Vayeshev,” last week’s Parashah, opens with dreams. Dreams and their significance, as we encountered in Ya’akov’s monumental dream, a few weeks ago, are dispersed throughout the Biblical story.

What makes the dreams in this Parashah more compelling, however, is their interpretation and the imminence of their fulfillment in the context of the time in which they occur.

In “Miketz,” Yoseph displays his great talent of solving the dreams of others. In the past, his own dreams were a threat to his brothers and the subject of their mockery, “Here comes the dreamer!” (Bresheet, 37:19). His dreams also spawned their hatred of him and evoked in them the desire to kill him “Come now, let’s kill him and throw him into one of these cisterns and say that a ferocious animal devoured him. Then we’ll see what comes of his dreams.” (37: 20). Unlike his brothers, who were “jealous of him,” Ya’akov, their father, considers Yoseph’s dreams a matter of substance, a futuristic vision which is destined to transpire in the days to come, “but his father kept the matter in mind.” (37: 11).

So, Yoseph, the man who was thrown into the cistern, sold to the Yishmaelites because of his upsetting dreams, eventually rises to power by virtue of the dreams of others which he interprets. His dreams are the reason for his exile. His talent to decipher them gets him out of jail. Most importantly, his wisdom lends excellent counsel based on his interpretation which ultimately earn him the second highest position in Egypt.

A study of the methods of dreams interpretations, in the ancient world, reveals that it was considered a serious and established science. The way Yoseph illuminates dreams, in this Parashah, reflects a systematic familiarity with such methods. For instance, Oneirocriteria, a Greek treatise about the interpretation of dreams, written by Artemidorus of Ephesius, written in the second century, points at the significance of wine in dreams which implies their positive or negative indication. Drinking wine in a delicate and “wisely” way, according to Artimidorus (Oneirocriteria, book 1, 66) is always considered “a good sign.”

Using the same technique, Yoseph recognizes the difference between the two dreams of Pharaoh’s cupbearer and chief baker with whom he shares a prison cell. In his dream, the cupbearer serves the wine in a noble, royal manner, and thus improves his fate. The baker’s dream, on the other hand, in which he does not serve the bread “wisely” and where “the birds were eating them out of the basket on my head,” faces execution. 

Prior to listening to the dreams of the cupbearer and the chief baker, Yoseph asks them, "Do not interpretations belong to G-d?" (40:8). His question suggests that Yoseph believes that dreams deliver a Divine message which G-d conveys through the interpreter. 

It is this unique ability which earns Yoseph his freedom when he is invited to solve Pharaoh's dreams. 

I doubt that there is anyone here who is not familiar with Pharaoh's famous dream where he sees seven well-fed and fat fleshed cows standing by the river followed by the arrival of seven lean fleshed and hungry cows that stand by the plump cows (41:3) and consume them. Likewise, I trust that most are familiar with Yoseph's prediction that the cows represent good years of economic plentitude which will be followed by bad years of famine and hunger.

It is important to note that when Pharaoh recounts his dream to Yoseph, he omits one detail which appeared in his dream and replaces it with his own perception. In the version that he unfolds, he deletes the part where the lean and fat cows first stand alongside each other. Instead, he adds, "And when they had eaten them up, it could not be known that they had eaten them; but they were still ill favored, as at the beginning" (41:21) - the well-fed cows, in this description, disappear without leaving an impression.

Yoseph, in his wisdom and outstanding talent to solve dreams, erases this detail added by Pharaoh which would mean that the seven good years would leave no positive mark. Instead, he interprets the original dream in which the bad and the good cows are placed side by side. Only by acknowledging the presence of the seven good years can one prepare oneself for the subsequent seven bad years.

Pharaoh’s dreams occur in history itself. The Parashah reveals the materialization of the dream, as Yoseph’s states, “What G-d is about to do he sheweth unto Pharaoh” (41:29). In other words, the dream is the revelation of G-d’s plan and the key to understanding the course of history.

Pharaoh who is familiar with the original dream, becomes aware of the latent rigor of its interpretation. He recognizes Yoseph’s wisdom and foresight and is convinced. Moreover, Pharaoh himself, grasps the validity of Divine guidance in our earthly matters, “Forasmuch as God hath shewed thee all this, there is none so discreet and wise as thou art.” Later in the Parashah, he goes one step further and refers to Yoseph as a man “in whom the Spirit of G-d” dwells (41:39). He then sets Yoseph “over the land of Egypt” (41:41) to implement G-d’s outlined plan which Yoseph presents to him, a plan which eventually saves Egypt and its surrounding countries.

The term “dreamer,” as we can see, takes on a new meaning in this Parashah. It is no longer a disparaging label, a Walter Mitty, a mild man with fantasy life. Rather, it evokes appreciation and respect. Yoseph, who was the subject of disdain and mockery by his brothers, turns out to be a blend of vision, a moving force, and a strategic planner with great administrative skills.