Miketz

In the last chapter we read that Yosef, with God's help, successfully interpreted the dreams of the baker and the cupbearer. Just as Yosef had said, the baker was executed, and the cupbearer was restored to his position. However, even though Yosef begged the cupbearer to intercede for him and put in a good word for him (because he had been stolen unjustly), the cupbearer forgot about him. And Yosef thus remained in prison for a long time. After all, he is a slave of the head of the security service, put in prison by the head of the security service, and if not Pharaoh, then no one else at all can free him. What happened to Yosef all this time, we do not know. In the forty-first chapter we will read the continuation of the story.

The form of the verb here indicates that Pharaoh saw this dream not just once, but saw it quite often – an obsessive, recurring dream Pharaoh has. Perhaps, as the commentators and the midrashim say, it kept recurring for two years. For two whole years Pharaoh saw this dream, but he just could not remember it. The two years are a postponement of Yosef's release as a kind of punishment for having so carelessly asked the cupbearer to intercede. But this is one of the ways of understanding it. In any case Pharaoh sees this dream for quite a long time, judging by what is written, and probably really cannot remember it.

And behold, he stands on the Nile can be understood in two ways: on the bank of the Nile – this is what Pharaoh will later state when he retells it – and above the Nile. After all, Pharaoh – he is not Pharaoh for nothing. Unlike you and me, he considers himself the god of the Nile, he says: “The Nile belongs to me, I created it.” And therefore in his dream he sees himself above the Nile. Later he retells it to Yosef differently, and there are different opinions on this.

So, in the dream he sees himself above the Nile or on the bank of the Nile. The Nile is the source of Egypt's fertility, the source of Egypt's prosperity. All of Egypt lives economically off the fact that the Nile floods, makes the soil fertile, the soil yields a lot of wheat. Wheat is the basis of Egyptian trade: wheat, slaves, well, and also a few small things like incense and so on.

The word áchu is worth a closer look. This is a purely Egyptian slang word, it does not and cannot exist in any other language. This is what the Egyptians call the places where the Nile, as it floods, leaves the noble, fertile black earth of silt – soil that yields very well, that is very good for agriculture. On these meadows flooded by the Nile grows lush, thick grass, and it is precisely these places that are called áchu – pastures on the bank of the Nile. And since such a word exists only in the Egyptian language, this is some evidence that Pharaoh saw the dream in the ancient Egyptian language, and the Torah shows us a little bit of a view, a “little window” into Pharaoh's head and his language.

So, Pharaoh saw seven beautiful, sleek, fat cows come up out of the Nile and graze on the flood meadow.

Unlike the first ones, which were yefót mar'é (beautiful in appearance), these are raót mar'é (bad in appearance or ugly in appearance). The first ones were vriót basár (fat), these are dakkót basár (thin, emaciated of flesh).

This is the first part of the dream.

That is, if we take and repeat Pharaoh's dream, then first he sees seven fat cows coming out of the Nile. Then seven thin cows come out of the Nile, and they devour the seven fat cows. Then he sees seven ears of grain on one little stalk, beautiful, splendid ears of grain, which are eaten up by seven half-rotten, sickly ears of grain. That is the dream Pharaoh had. One can say that this dream is not so hard to interpret in its basic concepts: the Nile is the source of fertility, the cows are years.

Some rabbis said (I heard about this, and commentators wrote about it) that in the Egyptian language the word cow and the word year were designated by one and the same word. I wouldn't be me if I hadn't decided to check. I looked in a dictionary. And behold, the word cow in the Egyptian language is designated by the word muuu (you don't need much imagination to come up with such a name for a cow). The word year in the Egyptian language was designated by the word mut, with the letter t at the end. And they were pronounced quite differently: a long muuu and a short mut. But in the plural years and cows sounded the same. If we give an example in Russian, then belók and bélka are two different words, but belkí and bélki are written the same in the plural. And here too there is such a similarity. It is quite possible that this could have served as a hint for Pharaoh.

In the second part of the dream – grain, which the Egyptians trade in. Grain is the basis of prosperity, and here too it is clear: the thin ears of grain devour the fat ears of grain. And on the whole it is not such a difficult task – to interpret this dream. But all the same it is frightening and incomprehensible. We will yet try to understand why.

But was it worth being afraid of such a dream, and why was Pharaoh frightened by such a dream? Interpret it for whom? For Pharaoh – that is the key word here. The dream can be interpreted, but how do you tie this dream to Pharaoh? The midrashim say that they interpreted it for him like this: “You will capture seven cities; seven kingdoms will attack you; you will bury seven daughters.” That is: “The Wolf and the Seven Little Goats,” “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs,” “Seven Steps to Success,” Dale Carnegie's “Seven Rules” – what didn't the interpreters list for him, and all of it either did not suit him, or did not correspond to him, or did not fit the dream. Why then did none of the wise men say: “Listen! The cows are years, and the grain is grain.” And this is understandable, because if one of his own people is speaking, he always remembers whom he is speaking with. He is speaking with Pharaoh, who is the god of the Nile, and it is impossible to tell the god of the Nile, the incarnation of the god of the Nile, that the Nile will not flood. It is scary, downright terrifying, to say such things. Because Pharaoh can execute someone, after all, we remember how in the last weekly portion (and they did not read it, they lived it) he executed the baker. That is another reason why people are afraid to tell Pharaoh the dream. No one can interpret this dream for Pharaoh. First, because he is a god, second, because one really does need to tie this dream to him somehow.

It is interesting that some commentators, especially Eastern ones, who are familiar with the ancient culture of the East, the culture of dream interpretation, they say: “How is it that Pharaoh did not figure it out himself? Why does he need someone to interpret these dreams? Pharaoh is behaving completely childishly here.”

In the 45th chapter of the book of Bereshit we will read that Yosef says: “And the Most High set me here as a father to Pharaoh.” A very strange expression. If Pharaoh is the tsar-father, then it turns out that Yosef is the father of the tsar-father. That's quite a position. And perhaps a certain hint is the version (perhaps it is speculative, but in principle quite possible for history) that this is about those Pharaohs, about that period when they took office at the age of ten. Like, by the way, Tutankhamun, who became Pharaoh as a child. And he (this is what we know from history, although Egyptian history is not very generous with stories about him) carried out a reform of faith, established monotheism for a while – tried, at any rate, to establish monotheism in Egypt. A legendary figure, poisoned together with monotheism, and if one asks the question and goes in for speculation, then maybe Yosef is somehow connected to this as the father of Pharaoh?

But if we speak seriously and do not indulge in fantasies, but simply read the pshat and know history, then it is quite possible that Pharaoh here is 12–15 years old, and he is still quite a youth compared to the thirty-year-old Yosef, maybe he is even 12–13. He has no experience, and that is why he is afraid of dreams. But although he is young, he is a god, and many are afraid of him too. In general, there are some hidden pitfalls here, which we most likely do not see, and one does not want to make them up.

So, Pharaoh puzzled everyone with his dream, and no one can or wants to solve his dream for Pharaoh.

Also an unusual form. Perhaps he passed this story on to Pharaoh, or he is sort of thinking out loud. He is not one of those who solve the dream. Indeed, after all, Pharaoh called his magi, his wizards and his wise men. He did not call cupbearers, because solving dreams is not among a sommelier's duties. But here the cupbearer, on the one hand, is afraid, because initiative gets punished; on the other hand, he wants to curry favor. Perhaps he sort of timidly begins to speak with Pharaoh, and perhaps he passes it on through someone.

He begins with “I remember my sin.” One could have said: “I remember how Pharaoh got angry with me and how he put me in prison” or: “Do you remember how you put me in prison back then?” But it is better not to remind Pharaoh of this. And it is better to say right away: “I am in general a repentant sinner, that is, I repented long ago of what happened. Do not be angry with me, let's not remember it. I remember, and you don't need to.” The commentators hasten to conclude from this that all the events of this time take place on the festival of Rosh haShana, when a person remembers sins. So, what time of year is it? Rosh haShana. We will later, afterwards, try to find out whether this is so or whether, perhaps, it is Pesach after all. In Jewish tradition there are two versions. Some say: “On Rosh haShana Yosef came out of prison,” others say: “He came out on Pesach,” since on Pesach there is a tradition – to free prisoners. We read about it not only in Jewish sources, but the New Testament also speaks about it. So, he says: “My sin I remember.” But this is most likely court rhetoric. And here is what the chief of the cupbearers remembered:

Each saw a dream that must necessarily have an interpretation. A dream with the feeling that somewhere inside it there is yet another part.

That is: “Careful! There was some guest worker there, a newcomer from Central Asia. I in no way recommend him, I am just telling a sort of tall tale,” – that is roughly what the chief cupbearer says. And he continues: “He was a slave of the head of the security service. Some migrant slave who came flocking in, and a young one at that.” Yosef at that moment was twenty-eight, but he calls him a youth, a kid.

That is roughly the story the cupbearer told: “I am not claiming anything at all, I am not recommending anyone, but there was some kid with us who came from who knows where, an ivri.” So that you understand, when the Egyptians say ivri (Jew), it means the people of Yaakov. How many Jews were there at that moment? Yaakov will be going down to Egypt any moment now, and in nine years he will have seventy people. With him, then, seventy Jews at that moment. That is fewer than some small peoples of Russia, like the Kereks, or the Tofalars, or the Sami, or the Votes, and no one knows about them. People know about the Jews because, first, the visit is remembered, back when Avraham, son of Terach, came to Pharaoh, it was a famous story at court. Second, apparently, Yosef shows by all his behavior that he is special. How do they know that he is an ivri? Most likely he has no accent. And how would you recognize a Jewish accent anyway? Who can tell a Bashkir accent from a Tatar one? Difficult. He cannot walk around in national dress, he does not cook national dishes. Most likely, Yosef is known by his behavior. And so the cupbearer says: “Some newcomer there from the ivrim, from those unusual ones who are a bit like astronauts in life, a slave of the head of the security service – he solved the dream back then. And I cannot say anything more, do not take this as a recommendation. Maybe Pharaoh could raise him up out of the pit, call him here, and he will tell? If not, then not. I just, excuse me, shared some memories.”

But Pharaoh is impressed. And I have already said: when actions develop rapidly, the Torah lists several verbs in a row at once. Here there are as many as six verbs.

Look how the film is being rewound. Yosef is quickly pulled out of the pit, shaved and trimmed of what had grown, dressed and led to Pharaoh. The one who was stripped and thrown into the pit is pulled out of the pit, dressed and brought to Pharaoh, and this is the beginning of Yosef's new life. About the conversation, the amazing conversation between Yosef and Pharaoh, and all the twists and turns, and about how Pharaoh changed the retelling of the dream, and how Yosef proved that he is not making up the interpretation of the dream “off the top of his head,” not “pulling it out of thin air,” to put it simply – about all of this in the following verses.

We stopped at the point where Yosef was pulled out of the pit in an emergency, urgent manner, dressed, shaved – so that he could appear before Pharaoh in proper form, as if the film of Yosef's life were being run backwards. After all, before this he had twice been stripped and thrown into a pit, and such were the changes in his life. Here Yosef is pulled out and dressed in expensive clothes in which one can appear before Pharaoh. Again there are changes in his life, but their vector is now the reverse.

The opportunity to meet Pharaoh is unique for Yosef also because, since he was bought by the head of the security service, as we said, the minister of defense at Pharaoh's court, only Pharaoh alone stands above him, only Pharaoh, in essence, can free Yosef or somehow change his situation. The Most High sends Yosef a unique opportunity.

So, Yosef appeared before Pharaoh.

This is how Pharaoh understood the situation: god (or gods) sent me a dream, but did not send an interpreter; and you can not just interpret a dream, you know how to hear it in such a way that an interpretation appears.

What does Yosef answer him? Look what a talented master of rhetoric he is.

The word answer is usually said in the sense of will give an answer, but it is also an answer to prayers, an answer to questions. God will give Pharaoh peace concerning his dream (after all, with Pharaoh, as we said, “his spirit was troubled”), God will give him some other answers as well. Here Yosef casts a peculiar rhetorical fishing line. He offers Pharaoh not just an interpretation of the dream. He says: “First, not I, but God, and second, not an interpretation of the dream, but an answer to Pharaoh's agitation.” This will allow Yosef to say more than just an interpretation of the dream. Yosef promised that God will give Pharaoh peace in his heart.

Pharaoh begins to set out the dream to Yosef. If Pharaoh also retold the dream to the priests, then this important inaccuracy mattered for the interpretation. We said that in the dream Pharaoh saw that he was above the Nile, above the river, like some Egyptian deity, imagining himself a deity, and besides, a king can also see his country. Here, though, he is standing on the bank of the Nile. Very often the bank of a river is the beginning of some prophetic vision. Thus Daniel sees himself on the bank of a river, and many prophecies begin with a river. And if Pharaoh retold it in this form, then it is clear that the magi could not find a suitably correct interpretation for an incorrectly retold dream. But this is not the only thing Pharaoh does.

Interestingly, in Tehillim we read about Yosef that he was sent to a land whose language he does not know (in Psalm 86), and there one can understand: “I did not hear about the bank.” Yosef, who knows how to hear, let the bank go past his ears. The word safá means language, and it also means bank. There is such a figurative interpretation, that Yosef, as one who knows how to hear, extracts the main thing from everything.

Here there is yet another trap of the dream. The expression vifót tó'ar is applied exclusively to people. We read this phrase about Rachel, Yosef's mother, about Yosef himself. There is a commandment in the Torah for when a man meets a beautiful woman in war – and she too is called vifót tó'ar. And Queen Ester is also called vifót tó'ar, that is, this is a human description. Therefore, as the midrashim say, the magi could interpret this in the direction that it somehow relates to Pharaoh's daughters. The very use of the expression is a little confusing.

Of course, here this is not part of the dream, this is already Pharaoh's remark. He says to Yosef: “I saw such nasty cows, the like of which I have not seen in all of Egypt” (it's interesting, actually, how many cows Pharaoh looked over in Egypt).

Notice that in his account, starting from verse 19, there is no stream. After all, in the dream he saw that the cows come up out of the Nile, but he does not retell it, does not mention it. Most likely not because Pharaoh is such a sly one and he altered the dream somewhat, but because he does not remember some details and does not consider it important to retell them.

Again a remark that it could not be seen that they had grown fatter after they ate the big cows. This is Pharaoh's remark. And here one needs to see where the dream is and where the comments are.

That is the dream he told, and such is the complaint in Pharaoh's mouth. And Pharaoh not only retells the dream, but also complains in general about the sad state of affairs with his wizards. This is not just a retelling of the dream; we said that Pharaoh invited Yosef to something greater than the interpretation of a dream.

Why does he say this? At the very beginning we read that Pharaoh told the dream to his sorcerers, wizards, magi, and they could not solve them. The first mistake the court wizards made – they saw the dream as two different dreams. But Yosef says what Pharaoh also repeats: “I saw a dream, I saw one dream.” The courtiers for some reason divide it into two dreams, begin to interpret different symbolism. We also said that Pharaoh either remembers poorly or is leading them by the nose. And they could not interpret it. Therefore Yosef begins by saying: “Pharaoh is right when he says that he saw one dream.” Pharaoh's dream is about what God will do. And Yosef is going to tell Pharaoh about it.

Pharaoh will now hear not quite a dream (look how beautifully Yosef switched the topic). Pharaoh will hear not the meaning of the dream, Pharaoh will now be told what God will do.

Soon the LORD will carry all this out, that is why you dreamed this dream twice. From this we derive that a dream that repeats twice or that a person sees twice, two similar plots, indicates that the dream is about to come true, that the fulfillment of this dream is near.

But we said that Yosef turned the matter in such a way that it seems he had come not only to interpret the dream. Yosef came to tell about the plans of the Most High. The Most High showed Pharaoh what He will do, so that Pharaoh would also do something. This is the essence of Yosef's account, and therefore Yosef dares to continue. And not just to continue, but to set out a very serious economic program.

What Yosef proposes is called by the old Russian word “prodrazvyorstka.” He proposes collecting the surpluses (or even not the surpluses) and introducing a state monopoly on grain. It seems that more than a hundred years ago, in nineteen sixteen, the Provisional Government of Russia introduced such a monopoly and in effect began to rob the peasantry. Here Pharaoh has a much freer hand, in Egypt, he can allow himself more, and Yosef says to him: “Make a monopoly on grain and gather all the reserves into the cities.”

If we gather enough reserves, then the country will safely get through all the periods of famine. In essence, Yosef proposes to Pharaoh to set up a monopoly on grain, to take all the grain into his granaries. Regardless of how this situation develops, and even if everything Yosef says does not come true, Pharaoh will have a good plan – to make a monopoly on grain, and Pharaoh will in any case profit from this situation. The situation is a complete win-win, and Yosef proposes a brilliant program. Therefore it is no wonder that next it says:

Pharaoh liked it, and the slaves don't really argue with him all that much.

Pharaoh – he is Pharaoh, and he has enormous power in his hands, but Yosef is an outsider. And Pharaoh needs his slaves, at least for form's sake, for appearance's sake, to agree that the one appointed will not be one of the nobles, but an outsider: “You yourselves said it, you just agreed with me that we will find no one wiser.” Pharaoh is also a master of rhetoric, not only Yosef.

It is interesting to pay attention to the fact that Yosef at the right time turned out to be not only in the right place, but also with a good economic program. In this connection one recalls the Russian fairy tale by A. S. Pushkin about how three maidens were spinning late one evening. One maiden said: “Now if I become tsarina, I will hold feasts for the whole world.” And the tsar says to her: “Well, you'll be minister of food, the court cook.” Another maiden said: “I would make linen cloth for everyone, I would put on a mighty fashion show.” And the tsar says to this: “Well, you'll be in charge of costumes.” And only the third said what the tsar needed: “I will bear a mighty hero.” Yosef does not lay claim to the position of tsarina. The Most High intends for him to be Pharaoh's right hand, and therefore Yosef proposes: “If I were wise, I would do it like this …”. Yosef, with a ready program, speaks about what kind of vizier, adviser he can be. And in fact he receives this appointment.

We left our heroes at the moment when Yosef wonderfully interpreted Pharaoh's dream and proposed to him a new economic policy, a whole and serious, well-thought-out and win-win economic program. Pharaoh turned to all those present and said: “Will we find a man in whom there is the spirit of God?” And this was a question partly rhetorical, partly tactical. We said about this that Pharaoh wants no one to object to him (as at a Catholic wedding: “Let him speak now or be silent forever”). So, “Is there someone among you in the crowd in whom there is the spirit of God? No? Well, that's it, unanimous.”

After this Pharaoh turns to Yosef:

Pharaoh does not simply acknowledge that there is no one in the world wiser and more discerning than Yosef (at any rate, in Pharaoh's own circle), but he says: “The proof of this is that God speaks through you, that God gave this to you. You have been sent to us by God himself.” And note that with his courtiers too he did not talk about this: “Is there anyone here discerning and wise?” A forest of hands would probably have gone up, but with the spirit of God people have more problems. So, Pharaoh says to Yosef: “You have been sent to us by God himself.”

A big position in Egypt, but not yet the biggest. Note that Yosef's appointment, his career advancement will take place in several stages, at once, it is true, but at the same time gradually.

“From your mouth they will kiss” – this is a figurative expression: “everything your mouth says” will be received as “with your mouth, Yosef, may one drink honey, I would kiss you all over on the mouth that speaks like this. Everything you say will be received with delight and carried out. To everything you say, the people will immediately say: ‘We approve!’”

In the previous part Pharaoh appointed Yosef palace director, head of Pharaoh's administration. Now he is prime minister under Pharaoh. He is given all the land of Egypt.

The garments that are called shésh – of fine fabric, garments of skilled workmanship, most often silk, but depending on the season and on the era.

Pharaoh too had a signet on a chain (as we said in Bereshit (38:18), just as Yehuda did), and Pharaoh handed over all the attributes of power to Yosef. All signing rights, all rights of administration are handed over to Yosef. Note that Yehuda gave the signs of his authority to Tamar, who had disguised herself as a harlot, seemed to be a harlot. Here we see the reverse process, but similar elements are handed over.

Yosef has the second car in the motorcade. Today the word avréch means a young married yeshiva student who resembles a grown man in wisdom but is young in years: av – father, rach – soft.

Commentators interpret this word in different ways. There are those who say: “Avréch is the father of the king, from the ancient word rich – king.” And we know that Yosef will later say that he has been made a father to Pharaoh (“the dear father of the dear father tsar,” we talked about this). This is one of the understandings.

Another understanding of this word is that people walk before Yosef and shout: “On your knees!” – from the Semitic word bérech (knees), that is: “Fall down on your faces! Yosef will be passing here!” But it is not very clear when the second chariot is coming.

And there is a third meaning of this word: avréch from the Akkadian word avráku – head of the house, ruler of the whole house, even senior administrator, one could translate it that way. And there are such language freaks who interpret the famous incomprehensible phrase: “Abracadabra!” as the words of the head of the house, the words of the one who is master in the house. And thus avréch can be understood as master in the house. I would settle on the translation “the big bosses,” but the translation “On your knees before Yosef!” can also be accepted.

So, Pharaoh says to Yosef one more strange phrase: “I am Pharaoh. Without you no one here will lift either hand or foot.” It is clear that this expression is figurative. Otherwise, if all the Egyptians began to ask Yosef: “Respected Tzafenat-Paneach, may I lift my hand?”, then even just to ask – even that would not be allowed. It is clear that this is about some kind of image. What does it mean: “I am Pharaoh. Without you no one will lift either hand or foot, and he gave him the name Tzafenat-Paneach”?

Let us begin with the name which Pharaoh gave Yosef and which is not mentioned anywhere else. If Daniel's name is changed to Belshatzar and further on he is at least sometimes called that, Yosef is still called Yosef further on. In Tehillim there is the name Yosef, but this name, Tzafenat-Paneach, is not designated anywhere else.

The simplest explanation that is given: Tzafenat – from the word tzófen (closed, a code, some kind of cipher, a riddle); panéach – to solve. Tzafenat-Paneach – this is a solver of riddles. But it is unclear where Pharaoh got such a command of high Hebrew as to know such a complex word as pianéach, which occurs only here and in a couple more places, not a very colloquial word. Where did Pharaoh pick up Hebrew? Perhaps Pharaoh gave Yosef some Egyptian name, and here, so as not to overload us with the Egyptian language, they simply translated the meaning of this name for us? And there are many different commentaries, many different variants on this subject.

There is an interesting opinion that Tzafenat-Paneach means not one who reveals the mysterious, but, on the contrary, one who conceals the clear. And since Yosef will from now on represent Pharaoh, then, as befits a nobleman at court, he puts on a mask. No one will recognize him, he will not be an eyesore to anyone with his Jewish facial features. He will represent Pharaoh: “I am Pharaoh (aní far'ó), and you will be my, well, let us say, ‘mask double,’ and ‘no one will move either hand or foot without you.’” And many other commentaries. Of course, one must treat with respect people who think differently from me. Other meanings of this name are also possible.

So, we have one more amazing character – a girl by the name of Asnat, daughter of the mayor of the city of On. The word kohén means, of course, priest, but also nobleman. We read about the sons of David that they were kohaním – noblemen at court. That is, most likely, this Poti-Fer is one of the chiefs of the city of On.

Another variant is that Poti-Fer here is the very same Potifar from verse 1 of chapter 39, and On is strength, might (one of the meanings of this word). And then it is about the very same Potifar. What is the matter here, and why does Pharaoh give Yosef Potifar's daughter as wife (if this is the daughter of that Potifar)? We know that Yosef was suspected of a liaison with Potifar's wife. As people who have read the Torah, we know that nothing happened between them, that Yosef held up well and did not fall into temptation. But the Egyptians did not read the Torah, they do not have such a testimony, and perhaps someone suspects something. If Potifar had simply come to the wedding, one could say that he keeps silent to please Pharaoh. The most, so to speak, classic way of forgiveness is to give one's daughter in marriage: “If I give my daughter to you, it means I trust you completely.”

Other commentators say that Potifar could have said: “Ah, that one? I bought him back in the day for twenty shekels, for twenty pieces of silver! Some upstart!” Now, when he will be his son-in-law, Potifar will not treat him so dismissively. And, of course, one very much wants, and the heart simply begs, to make Asnat the daughter of Potifar, that very one, in order to close the circle: how beautifully it all turns out! Maybe that is how it is. Although it is surprising that the Torah does not mention that this is the very same Potifar. And it must be said that the spelling of the name is a little bit different. It is like (so that it is clear) Ivanov and Ivantsov. That is, it seems similar, and to a foreign ear the same, but not the same. Again, over many centuries there have been many versions, and we do not know for sure. But the idea is interesting: to say that this very Asnat (we will read further), she is also the daughter of that very Potifar.

The commentators go deeper: “How can we think that such a righteous man as Yosef became Egyptianized? We have already read in Bereshit (38:2) that Yehuda became Canaanized. Can it be that Yosef also became Egyptianized?” And then such a version is born. After the very tragic story of the rape of Dina, the brothers wanted to kill her, but Yaakov protected her. And when a daughter was born to her, Yaakov named her Asnat, put her in a “burning” bush (like that bush which will burn at Sinai), and she, in some magical way, with a cameo bearing Yaakov's note, ended up in Egypt. There Potifar was walking, strolling, and by chance found her. And so Dina's daughter grew up in Potifar's house, and Yosef became her husband. And in this way Yosef, God forbid, married not an Egyptian woman. There is such a version too. It seems to me that this is too wild a flight of fantasy, but who limits other people's fantasy.

So, Yosef changed his status, his clothing, and everything in his life changed, even his marital status: he married the girl Asnat. To finish with the name Asnat, one can say that Asnat is the one who belongs to the goddess Neith, who hides under a heap of veils, herself conceals herself under a multitude of veils and masks. The Jewish version says that the name Asnat is connected with sné, that very “burning bush” which burns and is not consumed, the same kind of bush (Shemot 3:2). And there are very many more versions of the name Asnat on the basis of Hebrew. But most likely Asnat was an Egyptian woman and was named in honor of a pagan goddess. Do not let this surprise you: even today there are many such names in the Russian language, and even in church you can see a person by the name of Dmitry, that is, dedicated to Demeter, or with the name Denis, also dedicated to the gods. These names are torn away from their original meaning and enter our language, and all the more so in Egypt, where names in honor of the gods were given right and left.

Again one can say that the Torah speaks in figurative language. Of course, by handfuls, by fistfuls – that is very little. The earth gave bread simply in huge abundance, so that one could joyfully toss it up by handfuls and measure it.

Yosef makes city storehouses. Food from all regions is brought into the cities. We have already said that Kerensky's Provisional Government in Russia, after the calamities of the First World War, organized food requisitioning and declared a monopoly on grain. The entire volume of grain had to be handed over to the state, except for the minimum established by law. Later the Bolshevik government tightened the requisitioning and extended it beyond grain, which gave rise to famine in many territories. But we are not talking about Russian history.

Yosef made enormous granaries of wheat. And after all, it was necessary to prepare storehouses, and not simply to prepare them, but to design such storehouses as would be enough for the grain to lie for a long time – seven years. And this is a very complex technical task. No such structures have been found in Egypt. We do not know how it was, what it was made of. Many say that the pyramids were also built as such storehouses and that they are oriented by the stars, by astrophysics, so that wheat could be stored in them for a long time. But I do not know, I have not seen confirmation of this.

On the basis of this remark of the Torah – “before the years of famine came” – the rabbis, the teachers said: “In a time of famine it is better not to give birth to children.” This is not the traditional, as they say nowadays: “Why breed poverty?” It is probably about something a little different, but in any case these are private opinions of the teachers, and they are, of course, not binding. I am simply drawing attention to what kind of approach to the study of the Torah, of attentiveness to the Torah, exists. And people asked themselves: why such a remark, what does it want to teach?

One must pay attention to the word nasháni, in one of the meanings in which it is used in the Tanach – that is, in the meaning to forget, to leave, to abandon. That is: “Thank God, I am not tormented by nostalgia, I am in a new home forever, and the old one is abroad. What happens there next, they will write to me, I will read it here, in another country.” This is one of the understandings, and some commentators say that here Yosef finally understood that he had begun a new life, and he began to settle in in Egypt.

 Others say: “Yosef remembers that in every generation there were separated brothers. There was Esav, there was Yishmael, and Yosef thinks that the Most High has separated him in this way, and that means he will have some other service.”

But there is also another understanding of the word nasháni. In the book of Shemot (22:24) it is said to those who lend on credit: do not take interest (neshéch) from it. And Nechemya, speaking of interest, of earnings, of profit, also uses the word nashá – the very same verb. And one can say: “With interest the LORD has repaid me for all my toil and all that was in the house of my father. We are the lost house of the father. I followed the Most High, I left the house of my father, and the Most High repaid me with interest.” That is, there is no forgetting of the home here, no post-traumatic influence. Yosef simply thanks the Most High and speaks of how the Most High rewarded him with interest for all his sufferings. Further on we read something that, on the whole, confirms such an approach.

If we translate the word nasháni as in the previous verse, “repaid with interest,” then the two names will be the same. If we say that in the first case Yosef speaks about “forgot,” then here it turns out that, on the one hand, “forgot,” and on the other hand – “I still feel that this is the land of my suffering.” And somehow nostalgic thoughts begin to appear in Yosef. Those commentators who give diametrically opposite meanings of the names say that this is exactly why Yaakov, at the blessing, put Menashe forward: more is contained in the name Menashe.

Again the Torah speaks figuratively. We do not know what was happening at that time on the territory of present-day Moldova or on the territory of present-day New Zealand. When peoples speak in simple language about the land, about the earth, they mean the inhabited world. Around Egypt there is Asia Minor, in one direction as far as India, in the other direction – a little north of Turkey. That is roughly the territory on which there was famine, and in Egypt there is bread. But where is the bread in Egypt? In the storehouses. The people do not have it. Therefore we read:

It is interesting that the people in Egypt believed that Pharaoh was able to solve their economic problems. That means Pharaoh had some kind of good reputation. Pharaoh said: “Why are you pestering me? We have a prime minister, a minister of agriculture, in short, Yosef, he is my deputy in the land of Egypt, Karlsson's deputy on earth, so go to him.”

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The word lishbór – to sell in order to make up for a shortage; the word shéver is connected with breaking, with breaking something apart. That is, he gave them the possibility to break through the famine, but he sold, one could say, at high commercial prices. In another place the Most High will offer this word and say: “Go and snatch it up, take it for free!” – a very grotesque image – what can be sold at three times the price, I give away for free. But here Yosef, as it were, trades bread with the Egyptians.

That is the story of Yosef's rapid rise, how from a man who sat in a pit he turned into an economic miracle, bigger than Singapore's, the savior of the whole land of Egypt.

We stopped at the point where the seven years of abundance predicted by Yosef came to an end. The seven years of famine, again predicted by Yosef, began. There is famine throughout all the surrounding land, but thanks to God's blessing and Yosef's wisdom there is bread in Egypt, and from all the surrounding world people flock to Egypt to buy this bread. And at the beginning of chapter 42 we are transported to the house of Yaakov, Yosef's father.

Of course, the people around Canaan, throughout Canaan, are trading, are raging. Someone brings grain for resale, someone tries to build up his business on it. Yaakov understands that the bread comes from Egypt, that the wholesale markets are in Egypt.

And here again, as usually happens, the difficulties of translation: lámma titraú can be translated as why are you looking at one another? The verb titraú – is the reflexive verb from the word lir'ót (to see): why are you you looking at yourselves, seeing one another; one can say – why are you pretending, that you are living for show, or why are you looking at one another? In other words, there are some exchanges of words, exchanges of glances, which say: “Something must be done, the bread will soon run out.” Or each of Yaakov's sons, each of whom has a family, shows: “Well, I seem to have enough, we are managing, all is well, thank God, we don't need help.” The people do not speak among themselves – only with glances, half-glances, they hint at something.

One can also say it differently: the sons understand that they have to act somehow, that they have to go to Egypt, that something has to be done for the prosperity of the family, but they are afraid that Yaakov will not let them go, because they have a complicated family history.

On the one hand, he says: “I believe that everything will end well when we go down there.” On the other hand, Yaakov says: “We will live, we will get by there somehow, we will buy bread, maybe not plenty, but somehow we will get by, at least we will not die of hunger.” That is the thought, that is the command Yaakov gave his sons.

Pay attention, here the plot already includes Yosef in the picture. It is not that they went down, Yaakov sent them, but they are already going down as the brothers of Yosef. We began the last weekly portion with Yosef and his brothers. Of course, when we read asará (ten), we immediately expect an explanation: where is the eleventh? And the explanation is not long in coming.

Yaakov has a special concern about Binyamin. Binyamin will be the subject of conversation throughout this and part of the next weekly portions, and he is spoken of as some kind of unreasoning child. If we start talking about him, we must remember that Yosef ended up in Egypt when he was seventeen. At that moment Binyamin was about 10–11 years old. 20 years passed, because at 30 Yosef stood before Pharaoh. Also 7 years of abundance passed. In total: 20 years passed, and consequently Binyamin is at least thirty years old. But they take care of him like a child, and he will constantly be mentioned here as a child. Yaakov worries about him, lest something happen to him.

Very often it happens that in an Eastern family, according to the tradition of the Eastern family (by the way, this tradition also made its way into Catholic families), the younger brother, the youngest son, works with the father, stays with the parents, does not go anywhere, keeps close to the parents. This is the parents' pension, this is the one who will look after them in old age. And most likely this tradition was common in Canaan in those times too.

Since there was famine in the land of Canaan, the buyers went to Egypt in a noisy crowd, and in this crowd came the brothers of Yosef.

Why does the Torah remind us of this? We know that wherever Yosef was, authority was always delegated to him, handed over to him, everything was always dumped on him. Here Yosef does not dump anything on anyone, no delegating at all. Despite his high position, Yosef deals with the sale of bread, at least with the wholesale of bread. Why is this important? It is important that the bread lasts for the years of famine. It is important that some rich merchant does not come, does not buy up an enormous amount of wheat – so that Egypt would not have enough for the seventh year – and does not begin to sell it to Egypt. On the one hand, Yosef is interested in Egypt selling bread. On the other hand, “no more than two sacks per person,” there has to be some rule. One way or another, Yosef deals with all the important matters.

The word vayakkirém (recognized) and the word vaytnakkér (“estranged himself,” made himself unknown to them, “un-acquainted himself” from them) – these are words of one and the same root: he recognized, but did not acknowledge.

Picture the scene: ten buyers from a foreign land have come to beg for alms. Before them is not their own little younger brother, but a great Egyptian nobleman with a retinue, in office, with a signet ring, with a golden chain. Scary, downright terrifying! And he asks them a question, and they said at once both where they were from and why they had come – open, kind people.

Why is the talk about Yosef not recognizing them repeated? Because a voice was also heard. One of the brothers said: “We are from Canaan,” when Yosef asked: “Where are you from”? And one could have recognized: somehow this Egyptian has a familiar voice. No, nothing worked.

Besides, what does “recognized a second time” mean? First Yosef saw: here are his brothers. How it goes when a person looks at someone he has not seen for, say, such a long time as 20 years. One can say: “Shimon has gone gray, Re'uven has got a little belly, Levi has grown a beard.” But certain small gestures are recognized. Yosef keeps recognizing his brothers, after all, so many years have passed. He looks at them, watches them as one watches old acquaintances. He recognized their voices, but they did not recognize him.

The first is the profession, “you are professional scouts, and you have been hired here (this is the assignment) to examine the nakedness of our land,” that is, they came to see where our weak spots are here. Naturally, imagine the situation where the whole surrounding world is starving, and Egypt possesses bread. Money accumulates there, and the budgets of other states gradually flow into Egypt. And, of course, there will be many who want to wage war against Egypt. A strong economy requires a strong army, a strong security service. Why does Yosef, having remembered the dream, accuse them of being scouts? Do you remember Yosef's dreams?

The first dream was about sheaves. We are binding sheaves… And it is unclear whether Binyamin was in this dream or not. But we already said back then that the sheaves are connected with bread, that through Yosef the problem connected with bread would be solved. And so this dream did come true.

In the second dream, as we remember, there were little stars, the moon and the sun. And there were eleven little stars, eleven stars, and the brothers – ten. Frightening. Frightening because, exactly as the brothers once said: “Let's sell Yosef into Egypt and see what happens,” they could just as well say: “Let's sell Binyamin into Egypt too, or let's simply kill him, to see how it works out for him with the eleven little stars.” In any case: “How is Binyamin, where is Binyamin?” – that is Yosef's main worry.

The brothers came with the crowd from Canaan, but by their mothers they themselves are from Charan. These are ten men, sons of three mothers: Lea, Zilpa and Bilha. Of Rachel's sons there are none, one of them is Yosef, the second stayed at home. And the women themselves were from Charan, as were their parents. That is, they came from Canaan, but in appearance they are not Canaanite; even if they speak Canaanite, maybe even without an accent, they do not look like the people there. And therefore ten men, almost a football team, – a very good reconnaissance group.

Besides, they most likely entered Egypt through the gate of El-Arish – where Egypt was constantly building fortifications, where it expected trouble from the most. Therefore it is natural for Yosef, first of all, to charge them under the article “For espionage” and to say to them: “You have come here to spy on us.”

To the first question they answered: “No, we are not spies, we are not scouts, we have come to buy bread.”

They said: “We did not come here on a special assignment. Besides, we are the sons of one man, we are honest, and we have come simply to buy food, we have never been scouts.”

To the accusation that they are spies and came on a reconnaissance mission, they answer that they are the sons of one man. The logic here is this: well, who would send ten of his sons at once on reconnaissance, on a combat mission? After all, if they get “burned,” if, God forbid, the mission fails, all ten sons will perish. A terrible thing, nobody would act like that.

It is interesting that the brothers say about themselves kením anáchnu (we are honest). In all of Scripture the word honest is used five times in this chapter, and it is said about the brothers, the brothers say: “We are honest.” The very same brothers who for twenty years deceived their father, each time inventing consolations, keeping up the conspiracy. It is precisely them, it is precisely their honesty that is constantly talked about in our chapter, it is precisely they who are called honest. And tell me after this that there is no satire in Scripture.

In other words: “I do not believe you, this argument of yours that you are all sons of one father, although you are from three mothers (they did not say this, but, on the whole, there is some difference in how they look). You came here on a reconnaissance mission, and as for there being ten of you – well, sending brothers on reconnaissance is a great move. They will not give each other away even under torture, brothers will be ready to suffer. If they were strangers, in case of some pressure – who wants to suffer for the sake of money? – they would give each other up, but brothers will hold out honestly. So the arguments can go either way.”

Why, after such a phrase, does Yosef say: “Well, I did tell you …”? For the simple reason that this brother who went missing is him. Yosef, of course, understands that they are talking about him. Maybe they are lying about the little one who stayed with the father. It is unclear, Binyamin has not yet been presented and not called by name: “Well there, you did have a person go missing, right? In normal families people do not just go missing, maybe he got burned on some special assignment of yours, where human losses happen in exactly such a mission.” And Yosef does not necessarily have to speak to them very logically.

It is quite possible that everything we are saying now, as I am trying and as the commentators are trying to imagine the logic of things: Yosef has something like the year thirty-seven in the Soviet Union. Yosef can simply say in an authoritarian way, as a “troika court” in one person: “You are scouts, and that's it! Why? Because I decided so, and now all ten of you here will get ten years each without the right of correspondence. When we talk about some visible argumentation, about what is said for form's sake – for form's sake it may have been said, but things happen in all sorts of ways. I still think that you are scouts. You see, he did not send the whole family, he kept a little person for himself under supervision (he does not yet know how old Binyamin is: Yosef knows, but the official does not know). And someone over there is also looking after the house for you, you don't all go out on the job, one brother of yours got lost, you don't look very much alike. In a word, a suspicious family.”

Yosef also has a sense of humor: when he swears falsely, he swears by the life of Pharaoh. And if something happens to Pharaoh because of it, that is no great loss. They give an example like this: it is like a woman who stole a lamb, brought it into the house, hid it from her pursuers in the bed, in her son's bed, covered it with a blanket and then points and says: “By his life I swear, the one who is there, under the blanket, that I did not take the lamb.” She is swearing, in fact, by the lamb itself. There is such a figurative parable.

So, Yosef says: “You will bring the youngest brother, and he – even if you are professional scouts, he is not a professional scout. This homebody boy, the white crow in your family, under a little physical pressure will tell everything about you, what you are up to, what deals you have pulled off, and, in general, because of his young age and his inexperience, because he is not hardened and not seasoned, he will tell everything about you. Therefore, bring your youngest brother here.” This is what Yosef does for show. In fact, what worries Yosef is where Binyamin is. Are they telling the truth, that this one who eynénu (is gone) – that is about Yosef, and the youngest is with the father? Maybe Binyamin is also no longer alive? In any case, until Yosef sees him, he is worried about Binyamin. And he says to the brothers:

Look how unusually the wheel of human history turns: now it is Yosef who puts them in the pit for three days. And the roles are reversed: if before the ten brothers bent over Yosef in the pit, now Yosef can look at them from above. He put them under guard for three days, but early release on parole – on the third day, not at the end of the three days.

That is: “Look how kind I am, I do fear God after all, I will not do it as strictly as I said.” First imagine that the brothers would have to choose one who would go. Moreover, if you know the situation well, imagine that nine sons have remained under guard, and one has come – Re'uven, Shimon, Yehuda, Levi, Yissachar... It does not matter who has come and says to Yaakov: “Let Binyamin go as well.” Who would guarantee Yaakov that Binyamin too would not be lost there, and that all ten sons would not disappear? Never in his life will Yaakov send Binyamin, and, by and large, this is clear to everyone and, most likely, clear to Yosef too. But he leaves the brothers three days for such reflections. And on the third day he comes and says: “I do fear God after all.”

Why does Yosef act this way? Again, it is about Binyamin. The bread has to get home, because Yosef, he knows that there really is famine all around. And so that Binyamin does not go hungry, the bread has to make it all the way home. Therefore nine brothers will set out, so that provisions will surely be brought to everyone.

That is the offer Yosef made them. The brothers stand there bewildered: no, this is, of course, better than sending one. And still the brothers begin to think: “What for?” And the situation becomes such a “déjà-vu-ish” one – it reminds them of something.

Remember, at the beginning of the last weekly portion, when Yosef was approaching them (37:19), they said each to his brother: “Here comes the dreamer.” Now they again speak brother to brother.

The commentators note, and we talked about it in the last portion, that the instigators of the story with Yosef were Shimon and Levi, the second and third after Re'uven (Re'uven took a different position). It is quite possible that here Shimon and Levi, as the activists, begin to discuss this among themselves; not all ten started talking. And it is quite possible that here Shimon and Levi are talking to each other: “See, we did not listen back then, when our brother was crying.”

Who of them is the good scout here? Yosef is the good scout.

Yosef is a great weeper. We will see several times how Yosef weeps, weeps over his brothers. If at first he, as it is written, vaytnakkér (made himself a stranger to) them, then here, watching them, listening to their voices, listening to their arguments and even their squabbles, Yosef begins to remember them. and he turned away and wept.

Why did he take Shimon? Because he was the main instigator of this whole story, and because Shimon and Levi should be separated just in case, since if they are together, expect trouble from them.

Why give them provisions for the road? So that they would not open the sacks on the way. Besides the fact that they are traveling with full sacks, with their own containers, they were also given provisions for the road, so that they would get home safely and not open the sacks. This is Yosef's trap. It is clear that he does not do this for everyone.

So, we stopped at the point where Yosef's brothers, having left Shimon as a hostage, that is, the nine of them, most likely on ten donkeys, set out from Egypt to Canaan.

Each donkey, roughly, as far as we know, can carry a load of up to 140 kilograms. On it sits an adult man aged around thirty to forty. One can assume that he weighs about 70 kilograms. And thus, 70 kilograms remain for grain, and on 10 donkeys 700 kilograms of grain can be sent. In Yaakov's family, as we know, there are about 70 souls, including children. And 700 kilograms for 70 souls is not all that much flour: with very modest use it will last for two or three months, that is, it does not solve the problem for long. That is the situation that comes about when the brothers set out for Canaan.

One of the brothers opens his bag to give food to his donkey. Why is this needed, why does only one open it? Because Yosef, on the one hand, gave them provisions for the whole way for each one who set out. Nobody gave provisions for Shimon's donkey, because Shimon stayed in Egypt. And then Levi, having fed Shimon's donkey from his own provisions, given by Yosef, opened the sack in order to feed his own donkey (that is what most commentators think, that Shimon's donkey was most likely fed by Levi). And so Levi opens his sack and sees that here it is, his money, even in the same little bag, in the same little purse in which it had been.

How much that is incomprehensible, how much that is strange surrounds the brothers' trip to Egypt. And when they left Shimon, one could say: “Well, there you go, that is Shimon's punishment for having wanted to sell Yosef more than all the others back then.” And what the punishment is for may well be understandable. But why the money was returned, why a reward suddenly came – that is completely incomprehensible. And isn't there some catch here?

Tradition says that the Most High settles accounts with the wicked in this world. If a wicked person has done some good deed, he immediately receives a reward, so that in the world to come he has no open accounts. In exactly the same way a righteous person, if he does something bad, immediately receives punishment, so as not to punish him in the world to come, there is such an approach. And here it is unclear: “Why is the Most High sending us this money? What is this? What is going on?” This frightens them very, very much. But it does not frighten them so much that all the brothers would open up their sacks. Whether it took long or short, they arrive in Canaan.

Yaakov, first of all, of course, saw that Shimon was missing. It does not matter how much wheat they brought, the sacks are visible, and one can see that wheat was brought, but where is Shimon? That is the most terrible question. And they say this:

The little one, as we remember, is Binyamin, he is 30 years old, but they speak exactly the same way with their father too.

The word sáchar (trade). Sometimes people say shácher, sachár-machár or shácher-mácher (sold-bought) – it comes from the word lesachrér (to go round in a circle, to make a turnover, to turn money over and to make the rounds of the country). That is: “You will be able to move freely around the country with your trade.” Apparently, only Yosef could issue such documents for the right to trade, and the first time one had to get permission from him. There is no need to remind you that Yosef said nothing of the kind to them, there was no conversation about trade. And the brothers add this on their own, either as an interpretation of Yosef's words, or remembering the story of Dina. We read (34:9,10), when Sh'chem and Chamor came, they said: “We will intermarry with you, and we will be one people, and you will trade throughout our land, you will make a treaty with us.” Back then Yaakov liked that. And the brothers understand: the provisions will not last long, this trip, it is not a solution. But the possibility of making wholesale purchases in Egypt, carrying them to Canaan and even reselling them and possibly making big money – that is a serious solution. And they ought to persuade their father to let Binyamin go, and for that they need to use the kind of argumentation that Yaakov likes. Back then, in the case of Sh'chem, he was not against it, so they need to remind him of the opportunities for trade. Yaakov loves this. That is what they told him. What have they not told him yet? That Levi (most likely it was Levi) found the returned purse, with the money. In verse 35 we read the continuation of the story:

When they saw that the money had turned up with Levi, they were frightened with a terrible, dreadful fright. But when they saw that each of them had this little bag, they were simply frightened, not as strongly as the first time. What is this like? If you go out to the mailbox in the morning and see a large brown envelope, in which good letters do not always come (it does not always cause joyful emotions), then you take it out and think: “What could this be? Maybe I forgot some debt, maybe a tax has appeared on not celebrating New Year's, or, on the contrary, on Olivier salad, which they are now going to demand from me here?” And this, of course, is not very pleasant. And then you notice that there is a similar letter in all the mailboxes. This calms a person down a little. So it calmed the brothers too. But Yaakov apparently suspected something bad, because it is precisely after these events that Yaakov says:

Av shakúl – this is a father who has lost his children: “You have made me orphaned of children.” In Russian it is a child who has lost his parents who can be orphaned, in Hebrew this is lehit'yatém. But in Hebrew there is also a word for when parents lose children, this is called shakúl. If, for example, children die in terrorist attacks, God forbid, then such a family is called mishpachá shikulá and, accordingly, av (father) shakúl, em (mother) shakulá.

Yaakov is afraid that maybe the children did not hand over the money, but left Shimon there, and now Shimon is lost. Or, since the money was returned, now they will consider Shimon a hostage. In any case this frightens Yaakov, and he thinks that since the money has come back, then maybe Shimon will not come back. And this is the answer: “Guys, I will not let Binyamin go with you.” And he says this when they have only just emptied the sacks, there is still a supply, there is still time to decide, there is time to think. But here is how Re'uven reacts to this:

Re'uven has four sons. The eldest is called Chanoch, and they are already fairly grown-up children. That is Re'uven's approach. Of course, he does not expect Yaakov to come at night and say: “Chanoch, Palu, come with me,” and lead them out into the open field, take out a gun and shoot them or, God forbid, slaughter them in their sleep. That is not what this is about. And is such a thing anything like Yaakov, and is it reasonable to make such an offer? But, in essence, Re'uven says: “Let your curse kill my two children.” That is: “I swear by the life of my two children, by my two children, that I will return them (Shimon and Binyamin) to you.” But how can this please Yaakov? It is unclear. Hot-headed Re'uven puts forward an offer to which Yaakov does not react the way he expects.

Yehuda will later repeat this expression to Yosef directly and slightly changed.

It is interesting that David too, when he gives his instructions to Shlomo, says, for example, about Yo'av, who killed Amasa, son of Yeter: “So act according to your understanding and do not let his gray hair go down to sheól in peace.” To sheól, to the grave, as some translate not very literately, to the netherworld one can go down in different ways. And about Shimi, son of Gera, he says: “Bring his gray hair down with blood to the netherworld.”

That is, it is clear that every person is mortal, every person sooner or later ends up in the grave. But here Yaakov says: “You will let me die in grief, if Binyamin goes missing too, then I will not die in peace.”

Here chapter 43 of the book of Bereshit begins.

There is some such meaning in this: “Maybe they will sell us a little food, no special permits are needed for that. Maybe it will be possible to manage without Binyamin, if we come and say: well, just a little, give us some for the time being, while we are thinking it over, give us a little, because there is almost no food left at all.”

Here Yehuda steps in with his argumentation, and this is a little different from Re'uven's.

Yehuda repeats what he has already said, and explains to Yaakov: “If you send – we go, if you do not send – we do not go. And everything depends on you, and not on that man, because that man has already told us clearly everything he wants.”

That is: “Why did you tell him at all that you have a brother?!” And this is already the beginning of agreement. A person first denied the situation, now he begins to accept it and says: “Why did you do all this at all? Why did such a situation come about?” This is, of course, painful, but it is clear that none of the brothers knew that everything would end like this.

Yehuda is nevertheless trying to settle the dispute, Yehuda is looking for an argumentation that will, to put it in plain language, “wear Yaakov down,” that will nevertheless allow Yaakov to make a decision.

If you remember, these are the words of Yaakov himself. It is good to argue with a person in his own language. When Yaakov sent them to Egypt the first time, he said: “Go, go down there, we will live and not die.” And here Yehuda builds an argument for Yaakov on his own words, but adds: “And we, and you, and our children.” And this is a very beautiful addition compared with what Re'uven said: “Kill my two children.” Death, life – Yehuda argues through life: “We will be able to live, and you will be able to live, and our little children, your grandchildren, your great-grandchildren will also be able to live.”

In verse 9 Yehuda speaks in the language of an oath that was classic for that time:

This is impossible to imagine, this is a very strict oath for those times, the most serious thing Yehuda could say. This could have killed Yehuda's children, killed Yehuda himself, because he says: “I will be guilty before you for my whole life, utterly and forever.” And he adds:

That is: “If we had not delayed, you would already have seen Binyamin, you would already know that all is well with Binyamin.” Notice how interestingly, how beautifully Yehuda's argumentation is built, how he exercises his leadership compared with how Re'uven tries to be a leader. This struggle will continue, we will see it in Egypt as well.

The word botním in modern Hebrew means peanuts, but in the Hebrew of the Torah it is pistachios.

So Yaakov said. The commentary says that he asked: “Do you need anything else, have I said everything?” And the brothers say: “And we also need your prayer, we do not want to go anywhere without your prayer.” One way or another, Yaakov continued and said:

Shaddai – a Name of God connected, on the one hand, with the word shad (border, line, guard of the border), on the other hand, it is a very motherly name, because the word shad means a woman's breast, as it were “God the nourisher, God-mom.”

 Yaakov says: “And if I lose one of you, well then, I lose, come what may. I trust the Most High, come what may by God's will.” A very strong phrase: “If I lose one of you, then I lose.” Many centuries later Ester will say a similar phrase: “I will go to the king, and if I perish – I perish.” But if one stays and starves, then one can lose everyone that way.

They managed to persuade Yaakov. He agrees to send Binyamin off after Yehuda's persuading. And after 22 years of separation Binyamin appears before Yosef. How old was Binyamin when Yosef went missing? Maybe 10–11 years. Now he is already a grown man. And further on we will read about this amazing meeting.

We stopped at the point where, after long persuasion, Yaakov agrees to let Binyamin go with the brothers to Egypt. They take gifts, take money, take also the money that mysteriously turned up in their purses, and go down to Egypt, and appear before Yosef.

Only four words – Yosef saw Binyamin with them. For some classic author these four words would have poured out into a story of several pages about the storm of feelings that took hold of Yosef, about how much merged in this sound for the heart (almost as in Pushkin) of Yosef, but the Torah speaks very laconically. Perhaps so that we ourselves could feel what Yosef feels within himself, who for 22 years had not seen his own brother, whom he had left as a ten-year-old, and how much passes through his heart in these seconds. But he is not Yosef. In this case he is an Egyptian nobleman, and he must keep an imperturbable look before the brothers. Perhaps he wants to rush forward, and embrace Binyamin, and press him to himself, but he cannot.

The head of the house – this is the one who oversees all the household slaves, another Egyptian office that often appears in the papyri: so as not to give instructions separately to the kitchen, separately to the guest house, separately to this one, separately to that one, there is a head, the chief works manager, the chief foreman, he is responsible for everything.

To eat at noon here is a metaphor that simply means lunch (we too speak of the time “at lunch”). A good, self-respecting official, a self-respecting nobleman does not eat first thing in the morning – as the saying goes: woe to the land in which the noblemen carouse from the morning. Yosef eats battzahoráyim (at noon), that is, at the sixth or fourth hour after dawn.

The people – these are Yosef's brothers. Here, perhaps, it is said from the house manager's side: “Yosef told me to bring some people, I brought them.” Yosef's brothers do not even know that this is Yosef. They see that for some reason they have been brought into an official's house, into the house of this nobleman, and this is not for nothing, something is wrong here, there is some catch here.

The word lehitgalgél means to twist, to turn something around; if you translate it in plain language – to roll a barrel at us, to roll a cart onto usiThe author explains the word with two Russian idioms about rolling: to “roll a barrel” at someone means to pick on or accuse them, and to “roll a cart” onto someone means to write a denunciation. They are translated literally to keep the image of rolling..

It seems somehow absurd: why are you thinking about donkeys, if here they can clap you in chains as slaves (if you have been sentenced to be shot, then why does confiscation worry you so much). And it is all because last time, when they were being arrested, when they were being detained, their donkeys apparently stayed at the inn. And wherever the brothers were taken, they were not taken together with the donkeys – a donkey did not sit in prison. Here, though, they were brought into a man's courtyard, and they are being taken, as it were, “with their belongings.” And here the danger arises that they are really being set up, all the more since some strange things had happened with the money.

One can assume that it went like this. The man brought them to Yosef's home, and, having entered, they saw that this is a house, that these are living quarters, and understood that now they would perhaps be ground down. Therefore they stopped at the entrance, began to press back against the house manager standing behind them, began to crowd at the entrance to the house and tried to explain themselves before they were led into the room, so as to seize the moment and to get a sincere confession on record while the charge had not yet been brought.

That is: “We sincerely confess that a misunderstanding has occurred.” They distort reality a little, of course, but that is unimportant for the testimony. They say: “We all opened them at the inn, all found the money” – although it was one brother there, but that is not so important. What matters to them now is to explain to the official: “We are not guilty, there is no need to grind us down here now, and we sincerely confess, and here we are returning what we received unlawfully, by accident.”

They say: “As proof that we really are returning this money, that we wanted to return it from the start – here is evidence for you, we have brought other money with us. For if we had wanted to come with that same money, we would simply have brought that very money. Look how much money we have, see that we really wanted to return it.”

The brothers build their line of defense very well. Even before a charge has been brought, they say: “It so happened, we came down here. We bought wheat for cash silver. And when we were returning home, all the cash silver somehow turned up with us again. Do not hold this against us as guilt, this is some kind of mix-up, some kind of misunderstanding.”

This phrase – I have received your money – (it is important to note this) is repeated very often in various contracts in Egyptian papyri, it is a calque from the Egyptian language.

Shimon, apparently, comes up from the basements of Yosef's house into the guest house, and all eleven brothers are united and wait. Wait for whom? For Yosef.

We read earlier that he brought them in, but we remember that they began to crowd, raised a racket, and were not all that eager to go in. Now, when Shimon has been brought out to them, they are invited into the house a second time. A long reception begins, they have not come in for just a minute, they are going to be fed, and seriously.

The word minchá means not only the midday offering. It comes from the word lehaníach (offerings; what is brought, what is laid down) – that is, they prepared what would later be handed out at the table.

We have already said that in a particular case to eat bread (yochelú láchem) can mean relations with a wife. But, naturally, nobody has canceled the literal meaning. The word léchem in the Semitic languages means not only bread, but also meat, from this same root comes the word milchamá (slaughter or war); often in Tzefanya one can see the word léchem in the meaning meat. One must remember that léchem sometimes has precisely the meaning of meat, precisely of a great feast.

Yosef comes home. They, with washed feet, with fed donkeys, wait for Yosef and take out the gifts.

Once I was asked a very logical question: “What kind of famine is this, if there are pistachios, honey, nuts, almonds and all sorts of other expensive products?” The thing is that pistachios, almonds and honey are products, let us say, for long storage. Dried fruit can be in the house, but it is not eaten as food. One can compare this to how we may have black pepper, cinnamon and cloves at home – expensive products; but if there is nothing else besides, that shows that we have nothing to eat. And, since they decided to bring these gifts to the nobleman, it means this is not everyday food: they would hardly have brought him a can of boiled corn.

So, they brought him gifts and bowed down to him to the ground. The eleven brothers before him bow down to him to the ground.

Many commentators do not look very kindly on the fact that before an Egyptian nobleman they call their father a servant. Putting yourself in their place, and knowing the Egyptian ceremonies, and knowing that Yaakov is waiting for them to come back and waiting for them with Binyamin, with Shimon and with food, one can forgive them such delicacy, such a peculiarity of etiquette.

With such a blessing – incidentally, also a common Semitic one – people bless with a wish of grace.

And here Yosef cannot hold back. Yosef, a man who went through prison, false accusations, slavery, weeps again.

What compassion for his brother? The brother, thank God, is alive, healthy, ate well, lived surrounded by Yaakov's love. Yaakov did not even want to let him go. But this feeling of a lost childhood, the feeling of shared lost moments, of a life lived together… That is where the compassion lies – that the brother was happy (possibly happy), but Yosef did not see this happiness, did not share this happiness with him – it is with this love that his heart overflowed. We do not know how long he wept. Probably not long. “I will leave you for a minute,” he said, and ran off, disappeared.

The Egyptians, as their papyri really do testify, did not eat an animal that had been slaughtered by a non-Egyptian, did not eat food that had been slaughtered by a non-Egyptian, and did not eat at one table with someone who is not an Egyptian; they set separate tables.

In the Second Temple period Israel will have the same customs too. And a saying will appear: “He who eats with a pagan is as if he eats with a dog,” and many other such things, caused by the political tension with the pagans, by the struggle to preserve the religion. The Egyptians considered themselves a pure people and considered all others ritually impure. It was believed that the touch of a non-Egyptian defiles food. And naturally, therefore, the Egyptians were served separately. By his status Yosef is not supposed to eat with the brothers, therefore they too were served separately.

That is, Yosef seated his eleven brothers by age. For an outsider this is not so simple, because ten of these brothers were born within six years, many of them are the same age. And someone from outside does not know who is older, who is younger, and it is not so easy to find out. Why does Yosef do this? Perhaps it is a tribute of respect. Perhaps it is a hint that later a divination cup, divination instruments will appear, and Yosef will also become a sorcerer of an Egyptian city. So, he solved a tricky little puzzle and seated the brothers by age.

Masá – a load that is served on trays and handed out in portions from a common tray. Everyone was handed food, and Binyamin was given five times more. This sounds beautiful, but imagine: if they were giving a cafeteria portion like this – two cutlets and two hundred grams of buckwheat, then Binyamin got ten cutlets and a kilogram of buckwheat – “eat, Binyamin, to your health!” This is roughly a royal blessing. It is often said that in this way Yosef wanted to test whether the brothers would be envious. But at the royal table everyone was full, and when a person eats his fill, will he watch whether someone gets more? Here, most likely, Yosef's special grace toward Binyamin shows itself; he does not even know how to take care of him, and gives five times more (later Yosef will give him five changes of clothing). In general, the number 5 is the number of blessing in Scripture, of blessing and abundance. When there is “five” of something, we see many, many times throughout Scripture that it means blessing, favor. And for the Egyptians it is a sacred number. In this way Yosef shows Binyamin special favor, and the point is not that he got a kilogram of buckwheat and ten cutlets.

The twelve brothers were finally united, together they ate bread and wine. This is a momentous event that Yosef had been waiting for for 22 years.

We left our heroes, Yosef and his brothers, during the lunch, which most likely turned into dinner and at which, as the Torah says, they got tipsy. The Torah tells us this not to show a tendency of Yaakov's sons toward alcoholism, but to show how lavish the lunch was that took place at Yosef's.

 Famine all around. A Hittite princess, at roughly this same time, is about to marry Ramses II. She receives several dozen rams as a dowry and writes to him to take them away quickly, because she has nothing to feed them with. The letters of Queen Puduhepa, the princess's mother, to Ramses II in Egypt have come down to us in Egyptian documents. Such is the famine. It extends all the way to southern Turkey, there is nothing anywhere, and at this time Yosef is feasting with his brothers. This is not just hospitality, this is not just a friendly evening. Most likely, the brothers even stayed the night at his place. One has to remember all the time that it is Yosef who knows that they are his brothers, but for them he is an important Egyptian official, the most important official of the richest country in the region.

How was grain sold? A person handed the merchant a sack, and at the bottom of the sack was the money. Grain was poured into the sack for the stated amount of money. In some countries, when there were no containers in the shop, this is how children went for sour cream, yogurt or oil, holding the money at the bottom. The saleswoman took the money and poured in the goods, such an ancient way of trading.

Here Yosef says: “Without measure, regardless of the amount, stuff them with as much grain as the donkeys, with all our respect for their suffering, can carry, and on top of that put the money in there too.”

3. The morning dawned, and these people and their donkeys were sent off.

Why is this important? Because usually caravans and caravan drivers set out about two hours before dawn, to pass the city limits, to get ahead of the heat. But apparently, first, after the abundant dinner, and second, for some other reasons as well, the people lingered a bit. But everyone was let go. They worried in vain that there would be a confiscation. Everyone was seen off, everyone was equipped. That the donkeys were sent off as well – what is meant is that their donkeys were loaded, packed and, in general, sent off fully ready for the road.

We will still look into what Yosef was actually up to and why Yosef is setting Binyamin up.

That is, the house manager catches up with the brothers and says to them: “Why have you treated me so badly, why did you steal my master's goblet, on which he divines and from which he drinks?” Under Egyptian law it was precisely the steward who was responsible for this goblet, that is, the cost of this goblet would have been deducted from the house manager's salary. He is financially responsible, so it is up to him to chase them.

The brothers could not help having déjà vu. What is it when you have déjà vu that you have already had such a déjà vu. The brothers already have some kind of “tréjà vu.” It recalls the scene when they were very little, and when Lavan caught up with their father and also accused him of theft, although Rachel was the guilty one. In general, something here is bound to remind the brothers of it.

That is, the brothers partly repeat Yaakov's words. Yaakov said to Lavan: “A son of death is the one with whom your things are found.” And the brothers say something similar: “Let the one who took this goblet from the lord die.” But since the goblet will not come back because someone dies, and you will not return the money to Yosef by the death penalty, that is why they say: “And we will be slaves to our lord.” In chapter 22 of the book of Shemot it is also said that if a thief cannot pay the value of what was stolen, then he is sold into slavery. Here the brothers agree that the ten of them, if the goblet is found with someone, the eleventh, will become slaves of Yosef's house manager.

Is that really “according to your words”? And the commentators are divided in their understanding of these words.

Some say that he agrees that yes, it would be lawful to act so, but “I will act mercifully with you. You are right that the sentence should be such, but I will pass a mild sentence: let the one with whom the goblet is found be a slave to me, and you will be free.”

Another possible version is that the house manager said: “Indeed, you are honest people. You returned the money, and I cannot suspect all of you collectively, and what kind of collective methods of punishment are these anyway? Therefore the one with whom the goblet is found, he will be a slave to me, that is also how it is according to the Torah (well, of course, he had not read the Torah). And you – are free.”

Such a conversation, as it were:

– Do you have my lord's goblet?

– No.

– And if I find it?

– Well then, search.

They lowered the sacks and opened them. In fact, the house manager knows with whom to search, but the comedy has to be played.

Some midrashim say that the brothers fell upon Binyamin and began to beat him for setting them up like that. In general, a big question: at this stage, did the brothers believe that it was really Binyamin who stole the goblet (possibly while in a state of alcohol intoxication)? The midrashim say that the brothers pounced on him and said: “You are a thief, son of a thieving woman! The apple does not fall far from the tree. As your mom stole the terafim, so you stole too, and both the one and the other are an instrument of divination; somehow you have some special hereditary mania for this.” And almost all the commentators agree that the brothers believed that Binyamin really was a thief. The only one, perhaps, who says that the brothers did not believe it is Philo of Alexandria, the very, very earliest of the commentators. Otherwise everyone says: “The brothers believed in Binyamin's theft.”

Why speak so badly about the brothers? Because they are trying to say something good about the brothers. After all, if Binyamin sinned, stole, one could, let us say, have excluded him from the assembly, and said to him: “There, you, Binyamin, sinned, so you pay for your sin.” And said to dad: “Benya is to blame himself. He should not have stolen goblets, and you should have known whom to marry.” And one could have spun a lot more besides. But, even realizing that Binyamin stole, the brothers still stand up for him.

And here one can stop and ask: “And why did Yosef plan all this?” One of the first ideas that suggests itself is this: really to take Binyamin away from them, to take him for himself, and let them leave for Canaan with another portion of food, and Binyamin and I will rule Egypt here.

The second option: really to test whether the brothers have repented, whether they will stand up for their brother.

There is also a third option. It says that Yosef had not seen his brother Binyamin for a long time and fully allowed that the dear brothers, sitting back there in the land of Canaan, could put an ad in the local newspapers: “Wanted: young man of about thirty, of Ashkenazi appearance, for a one-time role. Bonus: trip to Egypt at our expense.” Take a person, hire an actor, who will come and say: “I am Binyamin.” And go check him. And that is why Yosef arranges such a test: if they abandon him, then maybe he is an actor, and no brother of theirs at all. Or maybe he will start saying himself: “I am not guilty, they actually hired me, I am actually from another family, I was actually just passing by.” The story is so complex and many-layered, and there are so many roles, motives in it, that each one reveals something of himself (I have said more than once already that the commentators speak more about themselves.)

So what do we see in this heart-rending scene, in this so clear-cut, cold-blooded combination of Yosef's? What is he thinking, what is he planning? Is he testing the brothers for loyalty, and Binyamin for authenticity? Or has he long felt nothing toward the brothers, and wants to free Binyamin? Everyone can decide for himself.

So, the brothers return to the city, and what they feel as they do is hard to convey. It is even harder to convey what Binyamin feels, catching sidelong glances on himself and not understanding what he has done to deserve this, because Binyamin did not even take part in the sale of Yosef. If the goblet had turned up with Shimon, then one could still have said: well, there, again the Most High is pursuing me for that. But we do not know what is going on in the heart of poor Binyamin.

Verse 14 has an interesting beginning:

The Torah hints to us that the main character will be Yehuda. Why so? Because it is precisely Yehuda who is the guarantor for Binyamin. Now an operation awaits him, as he promised his father, to be a guarantor for Binyamin. They need to resolve the issue somehow. Now the main acting hero of the following part of the story will be Yehuda.

That is: “Whom did you decide to deceive?” Here Yosef does not accuse them at all (unlike how he instructed the house manager to accuse them) of some immoral act. Here he speaks to them of an illogical crime: “Didn't you know that there are cameras hanging everywhere here? Why did you go and rob the ‘Zhilsotsbank’? You are committing some illogical crime.”

Here Yehuda speaks for all the brothers, because (I remind you) he is the one responsible, he is the one in charge of bringing Binyamin back. Quite possibly, up to this moment Yehuda believes that Binyamin really sinned, that God is exposing them. In any case, he does not appeal to the fact that they had already returned the money, nor to the fact that everything had started so well, nor to the fact that, look, we spoke about the younger brother, and this really is our younger brother, we have never deceived you. No, Yehuda confesses in full. But Yehuda's words are cunning, very beautiful rhetoric. Is it clear that if you are slaves, then the one with whom the goblet was found is also a slave? No, it is not clear. In fact, Yosef could have said: “The one with whom we find the goblet we will execute, and you will be slaves, that is how it will be just.” But with his wise speech Yehuda tosses Yosef a good solution to the issue – to get out of the problem with minimal damage. “At least Binyamin will stay alive now, and about slavery in Egypt we have a family legend, maybe it is all for the better.” And, in any case, now the task is not to be right, but to be wise, the task is to save Binyamin.

Long live the Egyptian court – the most just court in the world! We do not sell the innocent into slavery!

Many commentators note (there is a lot of logic in this) that at this moment Yehuda could have understood that all this was a staged act or, to put it in plain Russian, a frame-up. Yosef is a noble Egyptian grandee. Why does he need a thief as a slave? Of course, his servants need some slave to scrub the pots there, to rock the cradle at home, to clean herring for the home table for forshmak… But why would an official of such high rank as Yosef need a petty thief as a slave? He would have been fired from any office, and here he is being hired. Of course, although this is a slave's function, a slave's service, in a time of famine to be a slave to such a master – why, many people would gladly have sold him into slaveryiThe Russian says literally that many people would gladly have sold “him” into slavery. It may mean that they would gladly have sold themselves; the English keeps the literal wording.. It is as if the president said: “You, brothers, are free, and the one who stole will be my adjutant, will be my orderly.” This is even, to some extent, a promotion for a Canaanite wheat reseller who has turned up from who knows where. Therefore one can understand that something is not right here and that all this has been set up for some purpose. And in the next portion we will hear how Yehuda builds a line of defense and attack at the same time.

We have finished reading one of those tragic portions, tragic stories in the life of Israel. Yosef's next acquaintance with the brothers, getting acquainted anew, will be no less tragic.

 One can stop, rethink, put oneself in the place of each of the characters and look at them as living people, with their own lives, with their own families. When, for example, Yehuda says “we will be slaves to you,” he understands that this means they will not bring their bit of bread to Canaan, and his family, his children – all of them may die. And it seems to us that, since we know the end, all their words and all their decisions are just sounds. But if we stop at each place and live through the plot without knowing the ending of this plot, then we begin to understand the Torah differently. This, in fact, is what you and I are talking about.

This week, together with the weekly portion, the story of the judgment of Shlomo is read. This story is told in chapter 3 of the first book of Melachim. Before we start reading the story of the judgment itself, we need to make a short introduction. In those years Shlomo is a young king who has only just begun to reign over Israel. He is evidently very young, he says so himself. External sources say that Shlomo lived 52 years, he reigned 40 years. One can understand from this that he became king at the age of 12. At the time of our story, therefore, Shlomo is a teenager of 13–14 years.

He comes to a place called Givon, which is about 10 kilometers from Jerusalem. There is a great high place there, there is a place equipped for sacrifice, and Shlomo brings a huge sacrifice there, brings a thousand burnt offerings there. That same night the Most High appears to Shlomo in a dream and asks him: “What shall I give you?” Of course, this is not a story about Grandfather Frost and a little boy standing on a stool. Shlomo is not just Shlomo, not a person on his own. Shlomo is king. And, asking the question “What shall I give you?”, the Most High is asking him about the instrument of rule. Kings have certain epithets. There is the conqueror, there is the merchant, there is the terrible, there is the great. What do you want to be? If you ask Me for military might, well then, your kingdom will be the kingdom of Shlomo the conqueror, Shlomo the gatherer of lands. If you ask Me for money, well then, your kingdom will be a kingdom of trade, you will be a king of economic prosperity. What will you choose for your kingdom? First of all, Shlomo in reply thanks the Most High for the kindness that He showed his father. Shlomo tells the Most High that he is a young lad. We said that he really is a teenager and it is hard for him to govern the people. Therefore in verse 9 of chapter 3 Shlomo turns to the Most High with this request:

First of all a heart that knows how to hear, knows how to listen attentively to everyone who turns to him. What does he need a hearing heart for?

to judge your people, to understand, to distinguish or discern between good and evil. for who can judge this heavy people of yours?

What Shlomo asks for is that he should have sufficient wisdom to be a just king and a just judge. To be able to listen to people and to be able to separate, to distinguish between good and evil. Not only to listen to people, but also to see into their intentions. His request pleased the LORD, and the LORD promised him that as, let us say, bonuses Shlomo would also receive everything else a king can only dream of: financial and military might, and all of it, all of it would be added to the wisdom that Shlomo asked for. The commentators give as an example a parable about a nobleman to whom the king said: “Ask of me whatever you want.” The nobleman thought and said to himself: “Perhaps I will ask him for precious stones. So what? So he will give me precious stones. Perhaps I will ask him for gold. Well, he will give me gold too. What are stones and gold to me? I will ask him for his daughter as a wife. I will marry the daughter, and all this will be mine. Through marriage to his daughter I will gain everything.” This is roughly what Shlomo's request looks like, and the Most High blesses Shlomo. And now we can begin to read the passage from the haftara of the weekly portion Miketz, from verse 15 of chapter 3.

When we studied the book of Vayikra, we talked about the difference between the burnt offering and the peace offering. The burnt offering, as its name says, burns up entirely. The peace offering is an offering of which the Most High receives a part on the altar, the kohen receives a part, and the one who brings this offering receives a part. And thus bringing a peace offering allows one to take part symbolically, one could say, in a shared meal with the Most High, to eat with Him almost from the same table.

and he made a feast for all his servants.

 Shlomo made a feast with this kind of participation of the Most High for all his slaves. So, Shlomo asked for wisdom, for the ability to hear. Here, it would seem, people could have come to him with some economic questions, with some questions of universal importance. But here we almost hear the voice of Mrs. Hudson from the well-known film: “King, some two ladies to see you.”

The word zoná in modern Hebrew means prostitute. In biblical Hebrew it also has this meaning. But besides that, the verb lazón means to feed, and the word zoná can also mean innkeeper. It is no wonder that these two words coincided, because an innkeeper is often a defenseless woman, liable to become a victim of violence. And therefore, what is there to say, the innkeepers of that time combined both occupations. We talked about this in the introduction to the book of Yehoshua, when we talked about Rachav. So, two harlot women came to him for judgment. Here the king is feasting, thanking the Most High! He is sitting with all the nobles, busy with a grand feast. And then two harlots came.

Some commentators say: “It cannot be that two harlots came?!” And they say: “That which was written earlier, ‘and behold he woke up, and behold a dream’ – that is another dream. All this is a dream he is having. And two demons came to him – Lilit and Na'ama, well-known demons from Jewish mythology. And they act out this whole scene before him.”

Well then, one can understand it that way, probably. Still, the simple understanding is closer to me. Indeed, you wanted to judge the people? You wanted to go into the people's affairs? Here you are, King Shlomo, take two harlots, women of low social responsibility, who can be let through to the king for judgment. Yes, indeed, subjects came to the king for judgment. And many judges made it a rule for themselves, even when they were at dinner or even when something was occupying them, if people came to them with an urgent case, to stop everything and let the litigants in. So, Shlomo, already with a hearing heart (quite possibly), leaves the feast, and before him stand two harlot women.

then two harlot women came to the king and stood before him.

That is, they stood before him, as at a trial. From verse 17 we read the speech of the plaintiff. In any court there is a plaintiff – the one who brings a claim, and a defendant – the one who answers the claim. So, the woman plaintiff, and this is what she says:

 Why does the woman mention that there is no one but them in the house? There are no witnesses of what happened. There were only the two of them. Then the woman continues her story and says in verse 19:

This is the testimony of the first woman. It raises very many doubts if you read it attentively. First of all, how does this woman know everything that happened, if she was asleep? She did not see anything, after all. She, by her own words, slept so soundly that she did not feel anything. But she describes how everything happened as if she had seen it. Her version is well put together, but there is this problem here. There is also one more snag in what she says. Usually a woman who has given birth (they have even conducted such experiments, psychologists love experiments nowadays, and I conducted a survey, I asked several women) does not mix up her child so easily. She took the child to nurse, and he had died, and only later, only after looking closely, did she see that this was not her child. All this sounds a little suspicious. Besides, children in the first days of their life grow very fast and change very fast, and a three-day-old child differs from a one-day-old. All these are questions that remain after this woman's long speech. But she speaks at length and beautifully. Her speech has more than 50 words. Further on I lost count. In verse 22 the defendant answers this long speech and says this:

 She is clearly not as eloquent as the plaintiff. She has no prepared speech, perhaps because she is in shock, and she answers with just four words. What does the plaintiff answer to this? She answers:

“no, your son died, and my son is alive.” and so they spoke before the king.

That is, the women begin to bicker. And, take note, they are not saying the same thing. The defendant says what she wants to prove. She says: “My son is alive! Your son died!” In first place for her is the desire to prove: my son – is alive. The plaintiff says it the other way around: “Your son – is dead, and my son – is alive!” For her it is more important to prove that it was not her son who died. These formulations, in fact, give away what a person has in his soul, what is in his subconscious. One could call this a Freudian slip, if Shlomo had known such a man. And one can conclude that the plaintiff is being sly.

There are a few more legal rules that can be cited here before we move on to Shlomo's answer. If a person holds some object in his hands, for example, a person has a watch on his arm, and someone comes and says: “This person, this Chaim is wearing my watch,” the person who said this, he is the one who must prove it. Since the watch is in Chaim's hands, Chaim does not have to prove anything – the proof is that the watch is on his arm. He does not have to remember where he bought it or when it was given to him, nothing. “This is my watch” – and he does not even need to say that. Here it is on my arm, it is obvious. With a child everything is not so simple. But nevertheless this rule also works. One woman has a child in her arms, the other – a story on her lips. And this story is not a reason to take the child away. The Jewish court system to a certain degree relies on people's decency. For example, it is held that a woman will not say in the presence of her husband: “We were never married.” She will not dare to say such a thing in court. Some hold that a person will not dare to say: “I never borrowed money from him!” in the presence of his creditor. At the same time the system itself provides for the decline of morals and says: “That is so, but people change!” And people change, and they do not always change for the better. And here, of course, it is very bad evidence that the woman dared to speak, having buried her child or holding a dead child in her arms, dragged her friend, who had just given birth to a child, to court for such a proceeding. This speaks very badly of her. So, two women. Both have stated their versions, and they are not quite the same. In verse 23 we read what Shlomo says.

Shlomo repeats the arguments of the parties. This rule applies in the modern Jewish court as well. It is learned (this rule) precisely from this episode. You want to judge? Repeat the versions! First of all in order to make sure that you have understood them. Some even begin to repeat. Turn them over in your head. One says so, the other says so, this one says so, that one says so. In order to understand and in order to analyze. Here, by and large, it is already clear enough whose child it is. Clear enough from the speech. Well, it is clear to Shlomo. But it is important to do something else.

Imagine: in what court, in what modern institution could such a thing happen? So frightening that the women really believed that such a decision could be. There are the laws of the Torah, and Shlomo does not live in an anarchic state. He is not a reckless monarch-dictator. And they know his father David, and they know the justice of the judges. But the women believed that in Shlomo's court King Shlomo could order an innocent child to be cut to pieces, killed. Perhaps because one is in a state of shock, because her child is in danger and she is not analyzing the situation at all, what will matter to her is to save the child, and the other is so possessed by malice that, first, she can allow such a thing, and second, because of the blindness of malice she is not able to make out a possible catch. There is one more explanation. King Shlomo is a young king, not everyone knows him. And, go know, how will power affect a person?! Maybe now they will find out that King Shlomo, he is that kind of king. And the women believe that such a thing can be, or they simply do not think. Therefore Shlomo's trap works.

 How lucky the second woman got! She could have said: “Yes, wonderful! Give him to me! Really, you see, she herself has confessed?! That is just what I wanted, for him to be given to me. Here at last she agrees, after all she has some kind of conscience!” Indeed, one might think so, the woman thought: “Well, so be it! I am ready to steal a child, but I am not ready to kill.” We read here that it was the woman whose son is alive who said this, but Shlomo, it seems, sort of does not know this. She said: “Yes! Leave him alive!” The second one should have been glad, should have said: “Thank you, sire-father Shlomo!”, taken the living child and gone away with him, she has the king's decision. But she answers something completely different.

neither I nor you will have it. cut it.

“If I don't have it, let you not have it either. It is more important to me that you not have this child than that I have him.” This is simply human evil, manifested in its most vile form. The woman could well have said at this moment: “Yes, yes, yes, yes! I'm taking the child! Thank you! And deduct the court costs from her too, and I'll buy my child a pack of Pampers.” But she does not do so, she is possessed by malice. The commentators try to understand this in different ways. As we said, some immediately said: “These were spirits altogether! These were not people! How could harlots come to the king at a feast? How can they behave like this? How could the king try to cut the child in two?”

Others say: “This is a complicated legal situation. This is a mother-in-law and a daughter-in-law. Well, imagine the situation. Let us recall heroines known to us – Naomi and Rut. Just imagine that both of them are widows. But Rut was left pregnant, Naomi is also pregnant. Naomi gives birth to a child, and Rut gives birth to a child. If Rut's child dies, then according to the Torah Rut (an imaginary Rut, not that Rut from the book) must wait until Naomi's child reaches the age of 13. Wait 13 years, serve and be with her, until this child grows up and takes her as his wife, and then try to restore the family there. Or somehow else.” Many come up with a legal case like this to explain why the second woman is so evil, why she has such a monstrous reaction.

Well, in fact, it seems to me that here is precisely the manifestation of that very gift of Shlomo. On the one hand, we saw quite a lot of slips, quite a lot of miscalculations in the first woman's version. And one could have understood, you don't need to be Sherlock Holmes to figure out whose child it is. It was necessary, first, to show this to everyone, so that afterwards they would not think: “And maybe we will appeal to another court? Maybe we will go somewhere else?” And so that they would not talk, would not go around, because it is a matter of the child's life, so that no one would whisper something to the child, it was necessary to show this clearly, and it was necessary to show clearly all the human malice. And a very good demonstration of Shlomo's judgment, of understanding (as they say: “I understand women!”). Shlomo here does not only understand women, Shlomo here hears with his heart these two women. And therefore he can foresee how they will behave. After all, events could have developed along many different other paths. Here he understands not only the nature of good, the nature of evil, the nature of a mother, the nature of a mother whose son has died. He understands precisely these specific women. He goes deep into the nature, the character, the worries, the heart of these harlots. Ready to hear with his heart, one could say, the very, very lowest, the most insignificant female citizens of his kingdom. So, we read the verdict:

There are midrashim and commentators who say: “These last words ‘She – is his mother!’ were spoken not by Shlomo, but by the Holy Spirit. Or by Shlomo in chorus, in one voice with the Holy Spirit.” That is, when the King opens his heart to hear those who come to him for judgment, goes deep into it, then, according to this approach, the very Holy Spirit takes part in the judgment. And thereby the Holy Spirit touched these women. Something important happened. And the verdict sounded: “She is his mother!” By this very thing all the talk that could have accompanied the boy in the future was stopped. And maybe Shlomo decided wrongly? And maybe there was another court, it would have decided differently? And maybe there was a bribe there? And maybe something else there? It was precisely the story with the sword, whose results Shlomo could foresee, that finally put an end to all possible future talk. After all, it's not only about the mothers, a child is growing up.

Next we read chapter 4, verse 1:

 Having accepted his wisdom, despite his youth, everyone accepted him as king. They did not accept legally that, well, a king sits there, but realized that he is the king!

What lessons, what conclusions for Shlomo from this judgment? What new could Shlomo himself see for himself? What can we see for ourselves? First of all, it happens that there are two disputing parties, two litigants. One of them speaks very beautifully, he has been beautifully trained, he speaks beautifully, he knows how to present his version beautifully. Sometimes, possibly, the press and propagandists are on his side, and he is presented to us as very much in the right, his truth, his words sound glibly beautiful. And someone who cannot put two words together is, in fact, right. Do not follow glib talk. Do not follow beautiful speeches.

The second thought that comes to mind regarding the drawn sword is that the king was feared. One should not abuse power. Any power can corrupt. As they say, absolute power corrupts absolutely. If you abuse power, you can turn into a monster about which people will first think that it cuts a child in two, and then it will, God forbid, actually come to that.

There is also a third thought. Rav Kook spoke about the third thought. When he lived (at the beginning of the 20th century), there was a great division in the people of Israel. Some said: “We want to have nothing in common with the state. We will just lock ourselves away like this, we will not help, better that we perish, as long as they perish too.” This, unfortunately, is how it turned out, that precisely the Orthodox part locked itself away very much, showed this kind of fanatical zeal, which said: “Let our soul perish together with them. Let us die, but they will die too. Cut it in two!” The other part said: “No, we will not cut! We will not cut the people of Israel in two. Let us keep the people whole. Whatever happens, whatever it costs. This, perhaps, is worth a great deal. Let us keep the people whole!”

One more lesson from this story – one should not follow fanatics. Fanatics can ruin any cause. There are limits to zeal, beyond which it turns into fanaticism. Zeal must not destroy life. Such are the thoughts. There can be a great many more thoughts about Shlomo's judgment. And some thoughts sound not at all in unison. Thus, for example, Rabbi David Altschuler, the author of the well-known commentary “Metzudat David,” lived in Prague and had a very great influence on the Jewry of Eastern Europe and Poland. He died in 1769. He reads this story as if the first woman, the one who talks a lot, really did have her child stolen, and she really is right. And I suggest to those interested to read his commentary too. It will also be interesting.

Read also: Vayeshev, Vayigash and weekly portions of the Torah.