Yaakov settles in the land of Canaan. His favorite son, Yosef, brings him critical reports about his brothers. Yaakov makes Yosef a fine tunic of multi-colored woolen strips. Yosef exacerbates his brothers’ hatred by recounting prophetic dreams of sheaves of wheat bowing to his sheaf, and of the sun, moon and stars bowing to him, signifying that all his family will appoint him king. The brothers indict Yosef and resolve to execute him. When Yosef comes to Shechem, the brothers relent and decide, at Reuven’s instigation, to throw him into a pit instead. Reuven’s intent was to save Yosef. Yehuda persuades the brothers to take Yosef out of the pit and sell him to a caravan of passing Ishmaelites. Reuven returns to find the pit empty and rends his clothes. The brothers soak Yosef’s tunic in goat’s blood and show it to Yaakov, who assumes that Yosef has been devoured by a wild beast. Yaakov is inconsolable. Meanwhile, in Egypt, Yosef has been sold to Potiphar, Pharaoh’s Chamberlain of the Butchers.

In the Torah portion’s sub-plot, Yehuda’s son Er dies as punishment for preventing his wife Tamar from becoming pregnant. Onan, Yehuda’s second son, then weds Tamar by levirate marriage. He too is punished in similar circumstances. When Yehuda’s wife dies, Tamar resolves to have children through Yehuda, as this union will found the Davidic line culminating in the Mashiach.

Meanwhile, Yosef rises to power in the house of his Egyptian master. His extreme beauty attracts the unwanted advances of his master’s wife. Enraged by his rejection, she accuses Yosef of attempting to seduce her, and he is imprisoned. In prison, Yosef successfully predicts the outcome of the dream of Pharaoh’s wine steward, who is reinstated, and the dream of Pharaoh’s baker, who is hanged. In spite of his promise, the wine steward forgets to help Yosef, and Yosef languishes in prison.

PARSHA INSIGHTS

Light and Enlightenment

“And they took him, and cast him into the pit; and the pit was empty, there was no water in it. (37:24)

Rashi: By inference from that which is stated: And the pit was empty, don’t I know that there was no water in it? Rather, why does the verse say: There was no water in it? The verse comes to emphasize and teach that there was no water in it, but there were snakes and scorpions in it.”

The Torah portion of Vayeshev always coincides with Chanukah. What is the connection between the two?

The Talmud (Shabbat 22a) states that the Chanukah lights cannot be placed above twenty cubits from the ground. Rashi and others explain that if the lights are placed above twenty cubits, they cannot not be easily seen by a person passing in the street.

Immediately following this law concerning the maximum height of the Chanukah lights, the Talmud interrupts its discussion of the laws of Chanukah in order to teach us that the pit into which Yosef was thrown was empty of water, but nevertheless contained snakes and scorpions. Why does the Talmud interrupt its discussion of Chanukah to discuss this verse in our Torah portion?

The Torah Temimah suggests that the two lessons both deal with the limitations of human vision. Just as an object that is twenty cubits high is not readily observed, so too the brothers were unable to clearly see the bottom of the pit. Therefore, they did not realize that they had thrown Yosef into a pit containing snakes and scorpions.

On a deeper level, Chanukah is all about seeing and the limits of human vision. A holy light burns in the lights of Chanukah. A light as old as the world itself. We may not use the Chanukah lights to illuminate our homes. Their radiance may not be used for any practical purpose at all. We may only look into the light itself. We may only gaze into its depths. But why can't we use the lights of Chanukah for some other sacred purpose? Why can't we use their glow to read words of Torah, for example? What sets aside the Chanukah lights from every other worldly light? Why may we only gaze into the light itself, and what are we supposed to see there?

You can look at light in two ways. First of all, your surroundings are illuminated. You can see what's around you. Second, you can see the light itself, the source of illumination. And when you look into the light, into the source, the world that surrounds you recedes from view. When we look at our surroundings, our perception of the light is second-hand, reflected. It's "en-lightenment" — but it's not the light itself. When we look at the light itself, we see the source. We perceive the light, not as a reflection, but the thing itself. We know of the light's existence because we see the light. We don't need it's reflection to give us evidence of its existence.

There are two words in Hebrew that are spelled identically. They have different vowels, but their letters are the same. One is the word for "proof" (rye-ah) and the other is the word for "sight" (ree-ah). These two words express these two aspects of light: Rye-ah, proof, is the reflection of the light, the verification that the light exists by its illumination of our surroundings. Ree-ah, sight, is seeing the source. When you look at the source, you don't need proof. You don't need "en-lightenment." You are looking at the light itself.

In Psalms, King David writes "For with You is the source of life. In Your light do we see light." (Tehilim 36) Because the Creator is the source of life, His light cannot be perceived by reflection. Only in His "light do we see light." Not in His reflection.

If we want to see His reflection in this world, if we want a proof of the existence of the light — a rye-ah — we could look at the way His light illuminates this world. We will find evidence of His Hand. Of His light.

We will find evidence in the outrageous improbability of a "cosmic soup" that just happens to spawn life. We will find evidence of His light in the highly unhistorical history of the Jewish People. We will find direct evidence of His light in an unbroken chain back to Sinai.

Yes, we will find evidence of the light. We will find proof of its existence, a rye-ah. But we will not see the light itself.

"For with You is the source of life. In Your light do we see light." We may not use the lights of Chanukah for any purpose, however holy, for "...with You is the source of life." When we look into the lights of Chanukah, we are looking to the Source of life itself. For "In Your light do we see light." We connect to the Source of life, not through its reflected light, not through evidence and proof, not through rye-ah, but rather through ree-ah, through gazing directly into the light. And when we do that, this world of reflection vanishes from our sight.

If we wanted to prove the efficacy of an antibiotic, we could go to a laboratory, take a blood sample and analyze it empirically. We could evaluate how many white blood cells there were, how many red. We could take finite measurements which would lead to empirical conclusions. There is, however, no empirical measurement for a mitzvah. The Torah is lacking in empirical proofs because it is not a description of that which already exists. It is the source of that which is to be. It depicts an existence which has yet to be. It is the source, not the outcome. It is the light, not its reflection.

The Torah does not conform to Greek thought. It does not observe the world. It is the source of the world. It is not a reflection of the light. It is the light itself. When you look into the light, all you can see is the light. You can go beyond the limits of human vision.

When you look into the light itself, into the Source of life, you can see far above and beyond, to the hidden Source of life itself. "For with You is the source of life. In Your light do we see light."