Parashas Shemos
ואלה שמות בני ישראל הבאים מצרימה ... ויקם מלך חדש ... אשר לא ידע את יוסף
And these are the names of Bnei Yisrael who were coming to Egypt... A new king rose... who did not know Yosef. (1:1,8)
Pharaoh soon forgot all the wonderful things that Yosef had done for him and his people. Sadly, this is not uncommon. People remember you only when they need your help. Once they feel they can do it alone, they quickly forget that they were your beneficiaries. Unfortunately, this is human nature. It requires a special person, whose character traits are refined, to acknowledge what he owes and offer his gratitude. Forgetfulness is often a product of self-centeredness. When a person sees only himself and his immediate needs, he can easily dismiss the benefits and blessings that he has received from others in the past.
Hakaros ha’tov, recognizing that one has benefitted from another and is now beholden to him, is the only way to combat the tendency to forget. Thus, we foster humility and gratitude within ourselves. The Shibud Mitzrayim, the Egyptian bondage, began as a consequence of forgetfulness on the part of Pharaoh. The only way in which we can drive that disease from our midst is to remember what we experienced.
Memories play a crucial role in shaping our identity, guiding our actions and forming the foundation of moral and ethical living. The importance of memory is emphasized repeatedly in the Torah, as it connects the past with the present, laying the foundation for the future. We should not forget key events in our history, so that the lessons which they impart will continue to shape our perspective. Hashem orchestrates everything that we experience for a specific purpose. By forgetting, we ignore that purpose. Thus, we are relegated to reliving the past.
The parsha begins by hinting to the key to our people’s enslavement in Egypt: Ha’ba’im, who were coming to Egypt. During the entire time that the original family existed in Egypt, it was always “coming;” they were not settled. They never viewed themselves as Egyptians. They were Jews from the “old country” who were presently living in Egypt. It was only after Yosef, his brothers and the members of the original group who came to Egypt died that their descendants saw themselves as permanent residents, citizens and eventually members of Egyptian society. As a result, the status quo concerning the Jews’ identity as Jews took a nosedive. When Pharaoh saw that this generation of Jews had forgotten their roots, he, too, began to forget. After all, nothing about these Jews reminded him of Yosef. He did not recognize a vestige of Yosef’s character, morals or spiritual persona in this new group of Jews. When we forget, they forget, and so begins the travail that we have endured throughout history.
We should not forget, explains Rav Heyman, that Levi, Yocheved’s father, played a role in the mechiras, sale, of Yosef. As the “Rosh Yeshivah,” spiritual leader of the brothers, he should have put a stop to their plans. As the progenitor of the spiritual elite of Klal Yisrael, his descendants were obligated to answer for his indifference in some manner. Thus, Yocheved, whose father caused pain to Yosef, the leibling, darling/favorite of Yaakov Avinu, would suffer that her leibling was taken from her to be raised by Bisyah. One might ask: What wrong did Yocheved commit? Why should she make any form of reparation for what Levi did? Rav Heyman notes that Yocheved’s marriage to Amram, her nephew, was later included among the Torah’s prohibited unions. While on the surface this may appear to be far-fetched, we must realize that the sin of mechiras Yosef retains ramifications until this very day. Indeed, the murder of the Asarah Harugei Malchus, Ten Martyrs, that we recall on Yom Kippur (and Tisha B’Av) was the result of Mechiras Yosef.
Moshe Rabbeinu spent most of his life (as an escapee) in Midyan, away from his brethren. This, too, may be calculated into the overall reparation for Levi’s part in mechiras Yosef. The greater one’s spiritual level the greater the stringency in response to his action – or inaction.
Rav Heyman expounds further on this topic. Chur was a Navi, prophet, and son of Calev and Miriam. He was a saintly leader, comparable to Aharon HaKohen. (They were of equal status. They were the two who supported Moshe during the war with Amalek.) When the Jews were about to construct the Golden Calf, Chur stood up to them, and he was murdered for his trouble. Why? What reason can justify his death under such circumstances, while he risked his life to prevent a pagan incursion?
The Rav suggests that his mother, Miriam, was a descendant of Levi; his father was a descendant of Yehudah. Both Levi and Yehudah were leaders of the shevatim, thus, they had greater culpability concerning mechiras Yosef. On the other hand, because Chur sacrificed his life in Kiddush Hashem, he merited that his grandson, Betzalel to be the architect of the Mishkan.
In conclusion, we must believe that, Keil emunah v’ein avel, Tzadik v’yashar Hu; “G-d of faith without inequity; righteous and fair is He” (Devarim 32:4). A reason exists for everything that occurs. Our not being privy to that reason does not diminish its veracity and rationale. This is the meaning of faith – belief in Hashem under all circumstances.
