December 3rd: Mikketz and Chanukah
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
In last week’s Torah portion, we read about Joseph’s encounter with his employer’s wife. Joseph is serving as a slave in the house of Potiphar, and, through his own diligence and the favor of God, “the blessing of the Lord was upon everything Potiphar owned…He left all that he had in Joseph’s hands and, with him there, he paid attention to nothing save the food that he ate. Now Joseph was well built and handsome. After a time, Potiphar’s wife cast her eyes upon Joseph and said, “Lie with me.’ But he refused…” (Genesis 39)
He refuses and explains his two reasons. First, it would be a betrayal of his master’s trust. Second, it would be a sin against God. Mrs. Potiphar is not persuaded and accuses Joseph of attempted rape. She is believed by her husband, and Joseph is thrown into jail.
The Torah tells the story as though Potiphar’s wife is a predator. Privileged, with power, she is not to be refused. This is certainly possible, but it is also possible that there was a mutual attraction and some flirting. When the power dynamic is vastly uneven, romantic possibilities can be fraught with complexity and misunderstanding. There is also the possibility that Joseph is at first receptive to her advances, but at the last minute realizes the sins and halts the affair.
There are many stories told about sexual predation—and tragically this is too often true. But, sometimes, the culprit in romantic disasters is nothing more than misunderstanding—or ineptitude.
Take the story in the Netflix series, Unorthodox, where a young woman breaks free from Satmar Hassidism and an unfulfilling marriage. Pushed into an arranged marriage, the young woman and her husband experience “problems in bed.” She has some physical issues, and he is not sensitive or helpful. As the story is told, he is a real problem. But, we should ask, where would a young ultra-Orthodox man get the training or experience to be what his wife needs? She is not the only neophyte in the relationship. Haredi boys do not date or discuss these subjects and get as little information as their wives. For most in the Haredi environment, relationships develop and, with or without happiness, procreation takes place. But, when problems occur, the resources and sensibilities to remedy them are extremely limited. In other words, the young husband may not be the bad guy. He may just be inexperienced, unprepared, and inept.
Enter Robert Bly, the poet and guiding voice of the “Men’s Movement” of the 1980s and 1990s. Mr. Bly, who passed away last week, believed that modern men are emotionally stunted because the skills of how to be a mature man have not been passed down or prized in modern society. His work is both complicated and controversial, but there is much sense in it. The insights are not meant to excuse bad behavior in men but to help men exert responsible and creative stewardship over their animalistic sides, learning how to balance the animal and the angelic.
Rabbi Rami Shapiro did some interesting work on this notion, seeing this conflict between the animal and the civilized in the story of Jacob and Esau. Could every man have both an Esau side and a Jacob side—and must these two innate proclivities wrestle in order for menstchlikeit (full humanity) to be achieved?
I participated in a “men’s discussion group” back in the 1990s, and it was very interesting how these mature and successful men still grappled with a host of competing masculine ideals and definitions of success. While detractors of the Men’s Movement spoke of foolishness (men beating drums in the woods) or wimpiness (grown men whining and weeping), my limited experience was quite mature, realistic, and poignant. Which, among the many models of male success, should a man choose and upon whose insistence? How does one achieve success or confidence in the many and varied realms of life—adjudicating the possibilities of male strength, restraint, courage, kindness, judgment, weakness, and accomplishment?
Joseph in the Bible is certainly challenged in a number of different realms. As a boy, he is the favorite son, coddled and spoiled by his elderly, detached, and grieving father. Oblivious to—or in spite of—his brothers’ jealousy, he seeks continued approval from his father by tattling on his brothers. He prances around in his special clothes (Midrash), refusing to take on the responsibilities of adulthood. Though he cannot control his dreams, he insists on sharing them and lording his visions over his brothers. He suffers kidnapping and slavery and is tempted by his master’s wife. He is imprisoned and abandoned by his friends. Finally, he is raised to a high and powerful office, but he still harbors emotional distress—a turmoil that comes to the surface when his unknowing brothers appear before him to procure food during the famine.
At each step along the way, he is challenged mightily. What should he be or do? Should he be a warrior, or a scholar, or a political manipulator, or a devoted son who—as soon as he gets power and status in Egypt—goes to visit his beloved Father? Does he manage his own family better than Jacob manages his? Does he succeed in Egypt because he is obsequious or because he is clever or because he is a long-term thinker who works with Pharaoh in a mature manner? How does Joseph—at each step along his complicated path—choose virtues and aspire to success? What does he do right, and what does he do wrong?
One senses a complexity within this ancestor—a complexity that is endemic in human personality and experience. He embodies the challenges we all face: managing our diverse inclinations and role models in a variety of situations. While his father wrestles, Joseph juggles.
We all come into this world inept, and we continue to be inept throughout. Those moments and occasions when we manage to succeed are to be prized, and those moments when our natural ineptitude predominates are to be endured and hopefully corrected.