When we read in this week’s sedrah about the reunion of the shevatim, so it’s quite a heartening story. Yosef kissed all of his brothers and he cried on their shoulders. They embraced each other, and now the past, the differences, was put behind them. And they conversed again like long lost brothers (Bereishis 45:15).
So we would have thought that now they lived, like it says in the storybooks, happily ever after. Yosef settled them in the best portion of Mitzrayim together, and from the palace, he supported them with whatever they needed (ibid. 11-12). And so, it was one big happy family.
When Reality Hits
But we know it wasn’t so. Maybe it was for some time, but we know that it didn’t remain so. Because after all, they were twelve different people, with twelve different natures. Zevulun loved the ocean. The Gemara says in Pesachim that Zevulun loved the seashore. That’s why he was given the chof yamim; because it was a nature of his, to love the sea and everything about it.
Dan, on the other hand, could be he didn’t like the ocean much. But he had his own peculiarities. Dan had a nature, he never wanted to make a compromise, a peshara. He wanted din. “Why should we compromise?” he said. “Whoever is right, he should come out on top. That’s the best way.”
The Chachomim said there was a man—this was much later on in the days of the Gemara—who always said “Judge my case.” He didn’t want to make any pesharos; “Let the judgement ram through a mountain.” So they checked his genealogy and they discovered that he came from Dan. It’s the nature of Shevet Dan.
A Body of Different Parts
And so, all twelve sons had different ways. And it was no accident. Hakadosh Baruch Hu intentionally made it that way because we have to know that each shevet contributes its specific contributions to our people. There were tribes that were more warlike, and there were tribes that were more sedentary. There were tribes that were more hot-headed, more enthusiastic, and others were phlegmatic. Each one had his own segulos, his own ways and qualities, very different from the other shevatim but all together they contributed and they made it a perfect whole.
It's like a body. You need hands, but you can't be all hands. You need feet too. And therefore you have hands and feet, and you have different organs, and that makes a perfect body. Every shevet, every tribe, supplies its own characteristics and together it makes a perfect nation.
Living Separately
And that’s why when they left Mitzrayim, Hakadosh Baruch Hu didn’t make one nation out of them. He didn’t say, “Let’s all join together and become one people.” No; He said, “I want each shevet to be in its own separate area in the Midbar; each one under its own flag.”
And when they came into Eretz Canaan it became even more pronounced because they settled in twelve separate territories, spread out over a big area. In those days people didn’t travel much and there wasn’t too much communication either—there was no radio and no newspapers—and therefore each family developed its own minhagim, attitudes and traditions. The individual natures of the tribes became more distinct.
Speaking Separately
Even their dialects were different. When we look in the Tanach it seems to us they all spoke the same lashon kodesh but actually they had different dialects. The families spoke among themselves and very distinct ways of speaking developed. You remember that there were some tribes that had an idiosyncrasy that for a shin they said a sin. They didn’t speak the same lashon kodesh. One shevet used to say “Good Shabbos” and the other one said, “Good Sabbos.” That we know (Shoftim 12:5-6).
You know, where my family comes from there were no chassidim. They didn't have them in their districts in Europe. And they couldn't even pronounce the word chassidim. They used to say sechidim. They couldn't pronounce the word correctly. It’s going to be like that when Jews are separated geographically.
And therefore naturally there were differences; differences in thinking, in attitudes, in characteristics. There were all kinds of natures in each tribe and in the course of time they tended to become independent of each other.
Unifying the Differences
And therefore there always was before the eyes of the responsible ones, in the minds of the leaders, there always was a problem to keep the Am Yisroel together. Differences in minhagim? Very good! Differences in attitudes? Excellent! But still, we’re one nation, twelve brothers from one father, and therefore that was something that remained an important principle: How can you keep this great people together and make them goy echad ba’aretz, one nation under G-d?
Now, when Dovid Hamelech made his plans for the Beis Hamikdash, for Yerushalayim and the Mikdash, you have to know that this question was ‘top of mind’ for him. And therefore, when he prepared all the materials for the Beis Hamikdash, just like he envisioned and planned all the details, he also prepared the ideals of that place. And one of the most important, one of the greatest purposes, was this subject—the achdus of the Am Yisroel.
A Mizmor of Unification
That’s what he was thinking when he composed kepitel kuf chaf beis (Tehillim 122). If you look inside there—you might want to, to follow along—you’ll see how every word is an important limud, a valuable description of this purpose of Yerushalayim and the Beis Hamikdash. “I rejoiced when they said to me, ‘Let’s go to the House of Hashem.’” That’s how Dovid begins.
He is speaking on behalf of the nation because all over Eretz Yisroel the people were waiting for the time to fulfill the mitzvah of being oleh regel. Three times every year it’s a mitzvah incumbent upon every man; it was a momentous time and they were waiting for it. They had their packs ready and then there came forth the crier of the town and he announced, “Everyone! Let’s go to the House of Hashem.”
All over Eretz Yisroel, in every town and hamlet, this cry resounded and everybody now became full of enthusiasm and they looked forward to going up to Yerushalayim, the city of Hashem. They began on the back roads, the narrow country roads near their villages, and they started walking towards Yerushalayim. It was going to be a long trek, but they didn’t notice it much because their heads were in the clouds. They were singing on the way, singing shirei Dovid avdecha, and their neshamos were soaring bishmei marom – in the heavens above.
A Tribal Reunion
And as various groups converged onto the main roads, it was like a river coalescing; first it begins with little trickles that come from a spring, and gradually these trickles converge, and become a bigger stream. That's how it was; from the small towns the people came in little groups and they were singing and they heard behind the hills somebody else was singing, and soon their friends from other towns came into sight. And as they all marched together, the noise now became even louder. More and more people, more and more tribes converged together and finally, there was a big majestic river rolling on towards the sea.
Imagine hundreds and then thousands of men singing together; and they all knew the songs and they all knew the language and they all were sincere and their hearts were devoted to Hakadosh Baruch Hu and slowly they were tramping along the road to Yerushalayim and singing.
And as they converged on the main road leading to Yerushalayim they were meeting all their brothers from different tribes. And so the Reuvenites met the Shimonites again. “Oh, Shimon! How are you? It’s been months.” And Zevulon met up with Gad. “Shalom alecheim! My old friend from Gad! How are you? The last time we met was on this same road, going up to the Mikdash.”
Noticing Differences
Now, it doesn’t mean it was always easy. Because there’s a tendency to notice differences. And so when they camped for Shabbos on the sides of the roads, in villages, so you’re standing there with your son and somebody from Ephraim says, “Good Sabbos” so your son snickers: “Hah! Sabbos!”
“Oh no,” you tell your son. “Don’t laugh! Ephraim is a holy shevet.”
Even the begadim were different. They all wore tzitzis but they had different taleisim. Now if you’re from Shevet Yehuda you're accustomed that a tallis has to be black and white, but here comes a Jew, with a tallis, all green. A green tallis? What’s this? A nightgown?
Imagine you are a boy from Yehuda. You are a youngster, fourteen, fifteen years old and you see a man coming from Reuven with a green tallis. So you might laugh at him.
Chas v’shalom, to laugh at your holy brothers!
“But he wears funny begadim and he talks a funny kind of Ivris.” After all everyone in Reuven dressed the same. Everyone in Shimon dressed the same. Also in Yisoschar, all the Yisochars dressed the same. And therefore at home nobody laughed at each other; they were the same family. But now you’re all the different shevatim coming together. It looks like you’re from a different nation! You might want to mimic him and laugh at him.
Chinuch Habanim
But you don’t do it because your father warned you always, “When the shalosh regalim comes, you’re going to meet the Bnei Yisroel, your brothers, and they’re very different. But have derech eretz! Keep your mouth closed. Respect them. Love them.”
That’s what the nation was trained in. They saw different minhagim and different begadim and other differences but they learned to appreciate it. Sometimes, he had to make a bracha on something and this one had different halachos; he made a different bracha. Very good. He’s got his ways; you have your ways. And so they had to learn to tolerate the differences between them—that was one of the purposes of this entire reunion.
And then finally, our feet were standing, in your gates Yerushalayim (ibid. 2). They were standing in the streets as the others came from other places, from other sides through different gates, and they converged on the main streets and now they were standing in the streets of Yerushalayim all together.
And therefore let’s imagine now we’re standing with them; our feet are in Yerushalayim but our heads are in the heavens. We’re singing and we’re hearing all kinds of havaras; these are singing havarah Ephraimis and these are singing havarah Reuvenis; they’re very different. But it’s music to our ears and it’s music to the ears of Hakadosh Baruch Hu. The whole Am Yisroel is singing shiros v’sishbachos to Him – who cares what the accent is, because their hearts are all united.
