Timeless Torah

Once upon a time, there was a family. Like all families they had their differences. Unfortunately, this particular mishpocha took their differences to the extreme. Their quarrel, like so many others, started over something trivial: In this case, a coat of many colors. But it soon escalated into an all consuming hate-fest against Joseph, the favored son. So his older brothers schemed and plotted. At first they were quite willing to commit fratricide, but Yehuda stayed their hand and instead Joseph was sold as a common slave. The character and story of Joseph - his dreams, precarious position amongst his siblings, journey down to Egypt, slave status, rise to prominence in Potiphar’s house, accusations of disloyalty and immorality, being thrown into prison, and the fateful meeting with the Royal Butler and Baker - are all richly detailed and explored. All in all, it is a serpentine tale of one man’s ups and downs, a narrative that is gripping, a real page-turner.

Strangely enough, the Author (Who is obviously not bound by The Writer’s Ten Commandments in Creating Epic Novels; after all His Book is the Number One Best Seller of All Time) breaks all the rules of great storytelling - He interrupts the flow of the narrative with another, seemingly unrelated episode. This second plot is similarly full of twists and surprises. It’s the account of Yehuda, his daughter-in-law Tamar, and their incestuous assignation.

On the surface, the two storylines have no relationship. Indeed, it is actually quite awkward to mix in another topic right in the middle of what is otherwise a smooth-flowing tale. Rashi, the Biblical commentary most concerned with the simple text, is bothered by the very same issue. His explanation focuses on the words, “At that time, Yehuda descended from his brothers.” The meaning of this phrase is that until that point, the brothers accepted Yehuda as their leader. But after the sale of Joseph and the impact of his disappearance on their father Jacob, who was thrown into 22 years of intense grief, the brothers blamed Yehuda and demoted him from his leadership role in the family.

While this may justify the juxtaposition of the events, it does seem to be a rather unfair reaction on the part of the brothers. Let us not forget, it was the other brothers who voted to murder Joseph. If anything, Yehuda was the ‘good guy’. He argued against the spilling of blood, and made them change their plan to merely selling Joseph, saving his sibling from certain death. And now the brothers turn around and blame Yehudah for Jacob’s heartache! What chutzpah!

If you think this is puzzling, wait till you hear the other part of this Medrash, the part not quoted by Rashi. It is even more unsettling. The Medrash continues that a person who begins a mitzvah, but doesn’t complete it, is punished by having to bury his wife and children (which is what actually happens to Yehuda. The daughter-in-law he slept with is in fact a widow - twice - from two of Yehuda’s sons.)

This is mind-boggling! The other brothers, who were ready to kill Joseph, suffered no negative family consequences. They did not bury their children. In contrast, Yehuda, who at least tried to save his younger brother, and was partially successful, winds up losing his wife and children. How is this equitable?

Two startling facts should be derived from this Medrash: 1) Leadership includes more than privileges, it involves responsibilities, and not just for oneself. Ultimately, the buck stops at the leader. While every brother was responsible, it was for his own actions. But Yehuda was the accepted brother in charge, and as such, he was held accountable for their collective deeds. This concept is axiomatic in most situations. If a foot soldier “blows his assignment,” it can cause trouble. But when the general makes a muddle of things, the results are usually disastrous. 2) When one begins a mitzvah he creates a tangible force in the world that takes on a life of its own. The mitzvah therefore beckons to its initiator: nurture me; follow through with me. On the other hand, those who did not begin the mitzvah did not create any energy that requires their continued input. Stopping a mitzvah in the middle is analogous to squashing out a life. Someone who decides not to have children may not be creating new life, but we would hardly call that person a murderer. But when a person decides to have a child, conceives, and then aborts this child, (regardless of your position on abortion) that is another story. Imagine allowing the child to be born and then strangling the baby? Certainly that parent deserves our harshest condemnation and punishment.

Starting a mitzvah is like conceiving a child. Aborting the mitzvah, before it has a chance to be completed leaves the initiator much worse off spiritually than the fellow who attempted nothing. The brothers didn’t try, they never began the mitzvah. But Yehuda did. His passionate cry of righteousness created a force with a potential to fully save Joseph. But he terminated and squeezed the life out of it. This may not be poetic justice, but it is Divine “fairness”. Since he ’murdered’ the mitzvah; he buried his children.

This is a frightening idea. It runs counter to our usual inclinations. We would normally perceive Yehuda as being superior to his brothers. At least, he should get credit for trying, “an A for effort!” While that may be true in many areas of spirituality, in this case there is a something lacking. Here the imperfect effort is worse than no effort.

As noted, the effects of Yehuda’s uncompleted action lasted 22 years. This is exactly the amount of time that Chabad of Coral Springs first opened its doors and created a force that has affected the lives of thousands. True, those who did not join the ranks in spreading Judaism cannot be held culpable if the job done is not finished. They deserve no kudos, but again they warrant no liability. But we, the Chassidim, those who proudly believe in the great mitzvah of teaching, inviting, and inspiring others, we dare not drop the ball. We are the Jewish leaders, the responsible ones. May we all merit that our collective mission - of bringing every Jew in the city to hear the wisdom of Torah, experience the significance of mitzvohs, and enjoy the feeling of belonging to a caring community - be brought to fruition.