SUMMARY:
- Jacob is shown to favor his son Joseph, whom the other brothers resent. Joseph has dreams of grandeur. (Genesis 37:1-11)
- After Joseph's brothers had gone to tend the flocks in Shechem, Jacob sends Joseph to report on them. The brothers decide against murdering Joseph but instead sell him into slavery. After he is shown Joseph's coat of many colors, which had been dipped in the blood of a kid, Jacob is led to believe that Joseph has been killed by a beast. (Genesis 37:12-35)
- Tamar successively marries two of Judah's sons, each of whom dies. Judah does not permit her levirate marriage to his youngest son. She deceives Judah into impregnating her. (Genesis 38:1-30)
- God is with Joseph in Egypt until the wife of his master, Potiphar, accuses him of rape, whereupon Joseph is imprisoned. (Genesis 39:1-40:23)
Dvar Torah
Dr. Carol Ochs
This portion can be read as the first of the Joseph stories or the culmination of the sibling rivalry that has plagued the families of Genesis. But taking a perspective that joins the dreams of Joseph to the story of Tamar, we can read this as a portion about free will, foreknowledge, and responsibility.
We first meet Joseph not as one who interprets dreams of others, but as one who has dreams of his own. The question that the story raises for us—and to some extent for his father, Jacob—is whether Joseph’s dreams represent his personal ambitions or should be seen as a thin parting of the veil that hides most of us from the greater drama of which we are a part.
Sigmund Freud was fascinated with the biblical Joseph. “It will be noticed that the name Joseph plays a great part in my dreams. My own ego finds it very easy to hide itself behind people of that name, since Joseph was the name of a man famous in the Bible as an interpreter of dreams” (Sigmund Freud, Standard Edition , vol. V, p. 484n). Freud expanded our understanding of dreams, yet he was restricted to viewing dreams only within the context of the empirical world and the world of emotions. He rejected the view that dreams were chiefly concerned with the future and an ability to fortell it—something he dismisses as “a remnant of the old prophetic significance of dreams” (ibid., vol. IV, p. 97). His metaphysics, while enriching our view of our own minds, has constricted our view of reality. He does not consider that we may have access to a larger vision transcending our personal wishes and desires.
Jewish tradition informed Freud in his eagerness to preserve our sense of responsibility and free will. In biblical times, divination of any sort already was frowned upon. However, there is a third concept that lies between the concepts of free will and determinism—that of destiny. Free will suggests that we and the other forces in this world are the sole determinants of both the meaning and the value of our actions. Determinism suggests that what “is” could not have been otherwise, that is, we are simply living in a prescripted drama. Destiny functions very differently: it neither controls us nor ignores us. Rather, it invites us to live a life beyond the narrow concept of self-interest.
A cell in your bloodstream could live out its life span delivering oxygen and taking away waste. But if it could become conscious, it could become aware of the larger whole, your body, of which it is a part. Similarly, we can live our lives doing what we do, never reflecting on any larger whole in which we might be participating. But if the veil were lifted, as it was for Joseph and Tamar, our lives would be imbued with meaning and dignity. We are not coerced or tricked into reflecting on our destiny, rather, we are invited. And with this invitation comes the possibility of moving from an “accidental” life to one that is in harmony with the goodness of the original creation.
In this portion, we meet Tamar, daughter-in-law of Judah and exemplary foremother of Reform Judaism. With clarity of moral vision and at great personal risk, she seduces Judah and becomes the foremother of the line of David (and the Messiah). She, too, had a dream, and she performed the action that made it a reality.
The story of Judah and Tamar is inserted at this point in the narrative to justify our becoming the Jewish people instead of Reubenites. Judah, shown identifying signet-seal, staff, and cord by his daughter-in-law, recognizes his error, changes course, and thereby becomes a fit leader for the Jewish people. We are not asked to be perfect, but to fulfill our destiny; we must be able to admit our mistakes and change course.
Potiphar’s wife is introduced not merely to tempt and thereby test Joseph nor to be the proximate cause of his being thrown into the dungeon. She also serves to exemplify a person who cannot see beyond her own immediate desires. Joseph is not a moral exemplar for her but a temptation. Once Joseph has recognized his own destiny, he easily could have said to Potiphar’s wife what he later says to his brothers, “Though you intended me harm, God intended it for good, in order to accomplish what is now the case, to keep alive a numerous people” (Genesis 50:20).
As Reform Jews we are taught to take responsibility for our choices and actions. We are guided by tradition, but not excused by it. We must perform the right action even when there is no precedent for our choice.
Dr. Carol Ochs
This portion can be read as the first of the Joseph stories or the culmination of the sibling rivalry that has plagued the families of Genesis. But taking a perspective that joins the dreams of Joseph to the story of Tamar, we can read this as a portion about free will, foreknowledge, and responsibility.
We first meet Joseph not as one who interprets dreams of others, but as one who has dreams of his own. The question that the story raises for us—and to some extent for his father, Jacob—is whether Joseph’s dreams represent his personal ambitions or should be seen as a thin parting of the veil that hides most of us from the greater drama of which we are a part.
Sigmund Freud was fascinated with the biblical Joseph. “It will be noticed that the name Joseph plays a great part in my dreams. My own ego finds it very easy to hide itself behind people of that name, since Joseph was the name of a man famous in the Bible as an interpreter of dreams” (Sigmund Freud, Standard Edition , vol. V, p. 484n). Freud expanded our understanding of dreams, yet he was restricted to viewing dreams only within the context of the empirical world and the world of emotions. He rejected the view that dreams were chiefly concerned with the future and an ability to fortell it—something he dismisses as “a remnant of the old prophetic significance of dreams” (ibid., vol. IV, p. 97). His metaphysics, while enriching our view of our own minds, has constricted our view of reality. He does not consider that we may have access to a larger vision transcending our personal wishes and desires.
Jewish tradition informed Freud in his eagerness to preserve our sense of responsibility and free will. In biblical times, divination of any sort already was frowned upon. However, there is a third concept that lies between the concepts of free will and determinism—that of destiny. Free will suggests that we and the other forces in this world are the sole determinants of both the meaning and the value of our actions. Determinism suggests that what “is” could not have been otherwise, that is, we are simply living in a prescripted drama. Destiny functions very differently: it neither controls us nor ignores us. Rather, it invites us to live a life beyond the narrow concept of self-interest.
A cell in your bloodstream could live out its life span delivering oxygen and taking away waste. But if it could become conscious, it could become aware of the larger whole, your body, of which it is a part. Similarly, we can live our lives doing what we do, never reflecting on any larger whole in which we might be participating. But if the veil were lifted, as it was for Joseph and Tamar, our lives would be imbued with meaning and dignity. We are not coerced or tricked into reflecting on our destiny, rather, we are invited. And with this invitation comes the possibility of moving from an “accidental” life to one that is in harmony with the goodness of the original creation.
In this portion, we meet Tamar, daughter-in-law of Judah and exemplary foremother of Reform Judaism. With clarity of moral vision and at great personal risk, she seduces Judah and becomes the foremother of the line of David (and the Messiah). She, too, had a dream, and she performed the action that made it a reality.
The story of Judah and Tamar is inserted at this point in the narrative to justify our becoming the Jewish people instead of Reubenites. Judah, shown identifying signet-seal, staff, and cord by his daughter-in-law, recognizes his error, changes course, and thereby becomes a fit leader for the Jewish people. We are not asked to be perfect, but to fulfill our destiny; we must be able to admit our mistakes and change course.
Potiphar’s wife is introduced not merely to tempt and thereby test Joseph nor to be the proximate cause of his being thrown into the dungeon. She also serves to exemplify a person who cannot see beyond her own immediate desires. Joseph is not a moral exemplar for her but a temptation. Once Joseph has recognized his own destiny, he easily could have said to Potiphar’s wife what he later says to his brothers, “Though you intended me harm, God intended it for good, in order to accomplish what is now the case, to keep alive a numerous people” (Genesis 50:20).
As Reform Jews we are taught to take responsibility for our choices and actions. We are guided by tradition, but not excused by it. We must perform the right action even when there is no precedent for our choice.
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