YOSEF’S PRESERVATION METHOD
In this week’s parshah, we read about Yosef’s collection of grain during the seven years of abundance. The verse states:
“And he placed the food in the cities; the food of the field surrounding each city he placed within it.”
But what do the words “the food of the field surrounding each city he placed within it” add to the statement “he placed the food in the cities”? Once the Torah tells us that he “placed the food in the cities,” isn’t it already obvious that he stored the grain from the nearby fields in the closest cities? Why would anyone transport the grain to a more distant city?
And even if this detail is not entirely self-evident, we are still left with a question:
Why does the Torah find it necessary to mention it at all?
The Midrash explains:
“He placed what was within the boundary of Tiberias in Tiberias, and what was within the boundary of Tzippori in Tzippori, because every region’s soil preserves its own produce. Rabbi Nechemia said: He mixed earth and chaff into {the grain} — substances that preserve produce.”
In other words, both interpretations understand these additional words as describing Yosef’s preservation strategy to keep the grain from spoiling. The difference lies in the method. According to the first view, Yosef preserved the grain by storing it in the vicinity of the fields where it grew — since “each and every region ma’amedes its own produce” — where ma’amedes means “preserves.”
According to the second view, he preserved it by mixing “earth and chaff — substances that preserve produce.”
[The commentators explain that Rabbi Nechemia bases his interpretation on the Torah’s precise phrasing, “the field... he placed” — indicating that he also “placed” something from “the field surrounding {each city}” — namely, earth and chaff.]
RASHI’S COMBINED INTERPRETATION
Rashi, in his Torah commentary, comments on the words “the food of the field surrounding each city he placed within it,” and explains: “Since each and every region preserves {ma’amedes} its own produce, and people put some of the earth of that locale among the grain and it {thus} preserves the grain from spoiling.”
At first glance, Rashi appears to be addressing our earlier questions about the practical significance: (1) why this was done, and (2) why the Torah finds it necessary to report it if it was simply a matter of reducing effort.
However, Rashi presents both ideas as a single, continuous explanation (linking them with “and” — “Since each and every region..., and people put...” — and he does not introduce the second idea with an expression such as “an alternative explanation”). This implies that, according to Rashi, the verse is describing both preservation methods together: Yosef preserved the grain by storing it (in its surrounding area) close to the fields where it grew, and he also mixed “some of the earth of that locale” into the grain itself.
Is Rashi truly merging two apparently conflicting Midrashic opinions into one unified interpretation?
Some commentators propose that in Rashi’s view, Rabbi Nechemia is not disagreeing with the first Tanna at all; rather, he is expanding upon the first opinion. Both measures were necessary to prevent the grain from spoiling — and this is how Rashi understands the verse.
Yet this raises a difficulty. Rashi’s Torah commentary follows the pshat, the straightforward reading of the text (particularly here, where Rashi neither introduces the explanation with “our Rabbis expounded” or anything similar, nor cites Bereishis Rabbah as his source). What, then, forces us — on the level of pshat — to say that Yosef employed two separate preservation methods?
Commentators explain that both methods are alluded to in the wording of the verse. From “the food of the field {surrounding} each city he placed” we learn that he placed the grain in the nearest city; and from the phrase “the field... he placed within it” we can infer (as noted earlier) that the earth of the field was also placed into the grain.
But this explanation is difficult from a pshat perspective. The verse uses the word “placed” only once. It runs counter to the straightforward reading to interpret that single verb as describing two distinct acts of placing in two different locations — placing the grain in the city and placing the earth into the grain!
One may attempt to answer that Rashi does not mean that “he placed within it” refers to a second act of placing — putting the earth in the grain. Rather, “the food of the field” signifies that Yosef placed the “food” {grain} along with the “field” (the earth of the field) “within it,” in the city — which thus indicates that he mixed some of the earth of that place into the grain.
Yet even this answer is not entirely satisfying: What, in the plain meaning of the verse, compels us to say that the placing of the grain in its surrounding city was (also) motivated by the goal of preserving the grain?
NOTEWORTHY NUANCES IN RASHI’S WORDING
This can be understood by first examining several precise features of Rashi’s wording (including his variations from the Midrash):
- For the first method, Rashi states (as does the Midrash) “preserves its own produce,” but when describing the second method, Rashi adds the phrase “(and it {thus} preserves {the grain}) from spoiling.” On the surface, the reverse would seem more logical: If Rashi felt the need to clarify what “preserves” means — namely, that it preserves it from spoiling — shouldn’t he have provided this clarification the first time he used the term?
- The Midrash states “he mixed earth and chaff into {the grain} — substances that preserve produce,” but Rashi writes “some of the earth of that locale” — indicating that ordinary earth (or “chaff”) isn’t sufficient; it must specifically be earth from the location where the grain grew.
- Rashi begins with “since each and every region preserves its own produce,” but then shifts to “and it {thus} preserves the grain” (not “the produce”). What’s more, the Midrash itself {consistently uses the term “produce,”} even in Rabbi Nechemia’s statement, saying “preserve produce.”
DISTINGUISHING RASHI’S INTENT FROM THE MIDRASH
This can be explained as follows: through these precise nuances and shifts in wording, Rashi makes clear his own intention — an intention that in significant ways differs from that of the Midrash.
As we have noted many times, even when Rashi seems to be merely quoting {the language of} the Sages rather than presenting something new, nonetheless — since his commentary was written for the student learning pshat (the “five-year-old” beginning Scripture study) — Rashi’s language must also be understood according to the plain sense of his words (as that student would understand them), even when the Midrash employs the same expressions with a different purpose.
The same principle applies here: Although Rashi’s phrasing resembles that of the Midrash, his intent follows the straightforward meaning of his words — namely:
“Since each and every region ma’amedes its own produce” — here “ma’amedes” {lit., “establishes” or “produces”} carries its plain, primary meaning (as in Rashi’s comment in the previous parshah, “leha’amid {to bear} children descended from him”): Each land brings forth its own distinctive produce. That is, one region is naturally suited for growing certain crops, while another region is suited for others. We have already encountered this idea when Rashi describes Egypt as a land that “grows flax.”
Furthermore, even within a single land there may be distinct sub-regions — as in “in the land of Egypt, in the region of Goshen” — and each “brings forth its own produce,” as Rashi himself noted earlier in his commentary.
What’s the practical significance? Rashi continues: “And people put some of the earth of that locale among the grain and it {thus} preserves the grain from spoiling.” Since each region produces its own distinctive crops, it follows that the soil of each region has particular properties suited to its produce. Therefore, “the earth of that locale... preserves the grain from spoiling”: the grain is safeguarded by mixing in earth taken specifically from the region where it grew.
However, once this has been done — once the earth of that locale has been mixed in, which prevents spoilage — it is plainly evident that it no longer matters which city ultimately stores the grain.
ONE METHOD WITH BACKGROUND CONTEXT
Based on this understanding, the question raised earlier (in section 2) is naturally resolved: Where in the verse do we find two separate actions? According to Rashi, Yosef employed only one preservation method: “And people put some of the earth of that locale among the grain.”
This is the novel insight conveyed by the statement “the food of the field surrounding each city he placed within it” — the act of “placed within it” was done together with “the field... surrounding {each city},” meaning he mixed in some of the earth of that locale (as explained at the end of section 2).
By contrast, the statement “since each and every region ma’amedes {brings forth} its own produce,” as Rashi uses it here, is not itself describing a method to “preserve {the grain} from spoiling.” Rather, it functions as background information, explaining why “the earth of that locale” possesses the unique power to “preserve the grain from spoiling.”
Rashi also doesn’t need to explain why the grain was stored in its surrounding city — that’s already explicit in the verse itself (according to Rashi’s reading): Rashi clarifies that the verse’s phrase “vata’as ha’aretz” should be understood “as Targum {Onkelos} translates it” — “the inhabitants of the land gathered.” {Following this the verse states:} “and he gathered... and he placed the food in the cities.” Now, it is self-evident that the inhabitants would place the grain they gathered in their immediate vicinity, in their own cities.
This understanding, however, diverges from what Rabbi Nechemia’s words plainly suggest — that earth in general preserves produce (as noted in section 3). According to Rashi, the key is that it must be “some of the earth of that locale” — meaning, specifically from the place where the grain grew (the reason being, as explained, that “each and every region brings forth its own produce” — its own distinct produce).
This also explains, in a straightforward manner, Rashi’s shift in terminology. He begins with “each and every region... its own produce” and then continues “and people put among the grain... preserves the grain.” The reason: Initially, Rashi is articulating a general principle, a universal truth about all types of produce — that every land (“each and every region”) brings forth “its own produce.” Therefore, Rashi uses the broad term “produce,” encompassing all varieties of the fruit of the land, not only grain. Afterward, however, when Rashi turns to explaining the specific matter addressed in this verse (the placing that “preserves {the grain} from spoiling”), he appropriately uses the term “grain” — the verse’s specific denotation of “food” in this context.
EARTH OF THAT LOCALE: A SPIRITUAL LESSON
Rashi’s interpretation points us to a personal lesson in serving Hashem:
The produce, the “grain,” of a Jew is the Torah he studies.
When a Jew amasses a vast quantity of grain — an abundance of Torah (and mitzvos) — he must recognize that there is only one way for this Torah to endure within him: “And people put among the grain some of the earth of that locale.” One must bring into one’s Torah study the quality of earth — the bittul, self-nullification, expressed in “may my soul be like dust to all” — and it is specifically through this that “open my heart to Your Torah” is fulfilled.
Rashi adds a crucial point: it must be “some of the earth of that locale” — taken from the very place where the grain grew.
{The significance of this is as follows:}
When dealing with the nations of the world and non-Jewish culture — {where one might otherwise become} “a threshold trampled upon by everything” — and when facing the evil inclination, one must act in the very opposite manner, fulfilling the Shulchan Aruch’s opening directive: “Be bold as a leopard and strong as a lion.”
A Jew might argue: Certainly, for “open my heart to Your Torah” to take place — for me to become a proper vessel for Torah — I must possess bittul; my “soul” must be like dust. And indeed, he makes himself “like dust.” But where does this sense of “dust” express itself? Only in matters unrelated to his Torah.
When it comes to “his Torah,” he demands that he be shown kavod haTorah, the honor due to Torah. When he enters a gathering, he expects everyone to rise; during the Torah reading, he expects the most distinguished aliyah, and so on.
Indeed, he concedes that bittul — a sense of “dust” — is required, and he applies it; but not “from the earth of that locale,” not within the realm of Torah. The Torah commands:
“Love your fellow as yourself.”
Every Torah scholar is obligated to teach all students, even those who are not his own children.
The Torah instructs: You must disseminate Torah with your soul, your body, and your wealth. Yet he answers with “my soul {is} like dust”: “Who am I, what am I?” He asserts that he lacks the spiritual strength to reach out and spread Torah. Being “like dust,” he fears the outside environment may influence him. Thus he concludes that he must remain within his own four cubits — and particularly narrow ones. Even extending a single handbreath beyond that — to his family, Jews in his neighborhood, in his city — is, in his mind, impossible.
Rashi’s interpretation addresses this directly: the “earth” must come from the same “place,” from the very domain one seeks to preserve. Self-nullification in unrelated areas is insufficient; one must be “like dust” precisely within Torah itself.
CONTINUOUS AWARENESS OF THE TORAH’S SOURCE
Torah is the wisdom of the Holy One, blessed be He — utterly beyond the grasp of any created being. Therefore, for a mortal to absorb Hashem’s Torah properly, it is essential that he “first recite a blessing over the Torah”: before he begins to study, he must ensure that he recognizes, as required, the Giver of the Torah. His learning must awaken within him a deeper fear (and love) of Hashem, the Giver of the Torah, than he possessed before.
Furthermore, since Torah is the wisdom of the Holy One, blessed be He, it follows that for a person to truly retain Hashem’s Torah within himself, the sense of “may my soul be like dust to all” before and during study is not sufficient. Rather, there must also be “and people put among the grain some of the earth of that locale.” Even in the Torah one has already learned and “gathered,” the quality of bittul must remain present and alive. He must constantly remember that “He gave us His Torah,” and that the phrase “the Giver of the Torah” {in the blessing} is stated in the present tense — that is, when he learns even a single word, even “one letter,” of Torah, the Holy One, blessed be He, is reading and reciting it opposite him.
Therefore, Torah demands that, while studying, one must be in a state of “awe and fear, with trembling and sweat.” How, then, could a person study Torah in order to use his knowledge as a weapon against others, or to gain honor by shaming his fellow, or even to gain honor at all?
Even one who is truly accomplished in Torah surely remembers — with proper awareness — that no matter how much a person understands or grasps of Torah’s wisdom, “it is longer than the earth in measure and broader than the sea.” Moreover, it is “longer” {in the ultimate sense} — beyond all measure — for it is the wisdom of the Holy One, blessed be He: “And I was with Him... a source of delight...”
Only when he maintains such a sense of bittul will his Torah truly endure; only then does he “preserve the grain from spoiling,” Heaven forbid.
PROVIDING SPIRITUAL SUSTENANCE THAT LASTS
Rashi’s interpretation as a whole offers another general lesson:
Yosef’s sustaining the entire land throughout the years of famine teaches us that when there is spiritual hunger in the world — a state of ignorance and the like — every Jew (for each Jew is spiritually called “Yosef”) carries the responsibility to nourish the world with spiritual sustenance, including those who stand outside the fold.
Rashi expands on this: it is not enough merely to provide another Jew with spiritual nourishment. One must go further — to amass within oneself a store of spiritual “food,” so as to be ready to provide for every Jew who will eventually awaken to his need and come seeking it. And beyond that:
One must also seek ways to ensure that the spiritual nourishment one gives will endure — how to “preserve the grain from spoiling.” It must remain with the recipient, continue to elevate him throughout his life, and extend its influence even to his children and future generations. This lasting impact comes from Torah {learned and taught as it should be} — preceded by a blessing and {with the awareness that} “Giver of the Torah” is in the present tense.
From a sichah delivered on Shabbos Parshas Mikeitz 5743 (1982)
