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that He has been guiding our steps
all along. Initially Joseph had flaws
in his character. He was vain about
his appearance; he brought his
father evil reports about his broth-
ers; his narcissism led directly to
the advances of Potiphar’s wife.
But the story of which he was a
part was not a Greek tragedy. By
its end — the death of Joseph in
the final chapter of Genesis — he
had become a different human
being entirely, one who forgave his
brothers the crime they committed
against him, the man who saved
an entire region from famine and
starvation, the one Jewish tradi-
tion calls “the tzaddik.”
Don’t think you understand the
story of your life at half-time. That
is the lesson of Joseph. At the age
of 29 he would have been justified
in thinking his life an abject fail-
ure: hated by his brothers, criti-
cized by his father, sold as a slave,
imprisoned on a false charge and
with his one chance of freedom
gone.
The second half of the story
shows us that Joseph’s life was not
like that at all. His became a tale
of unprecedented success, not
only politically and materially, but
also morally and spiritually. He
became the first person in record-
ed history to forgive. By saving the
region from famine, he became the
first in whom the promise made
by God to Abraham came true:
“Through you, all the families of
the land will be blessed” (Gen.
12:3). There was no way of pre-
dicting how the story would end
on the basis of the events narrated
in parshat Vayeshev. The turn-
ing point in his life was a highly
improbable event that could not
have been predicted but which
changed all else, not just for him
but for large numbers of people
and for the eventual course of
Jewish history. God’s hand was at
work, even when Joseph felt aban-
doned by every human being he
had encountered.
We live life forward but we see

the role of Providence in our lives
only looking back. That is the
meaning of God’s words to Moses:
“You will see My back” (Ex. 33:23),
meaning, “You will see Me only
when you look back.”
Joseph’s story is a precise rever-
sal of the narrative structure of
Sophocles’ Oedipus. Everything
Laius and his son Oedipus do to
avert the tragic fate announced by
the oracle in fact brings it closer to
fulfilment, whereas in the story of
Joseph, every episode that seems
to be leading to tragedy turns out
in retrospect to be a necessary step
to saving lives and the fulfilment
of Joseph’s dreams.
Judaism is the opposite of trag-
edy. It tells us that every bad fate
can be averted (hence our prayer
on the High Holy Days that “pen-
itence, prayer and charity avert
the evil decree”) — while every
positive promise made by God will
never be undone.

REFUSAL TO DESPAIR
Hence the life-changing idea:
Despair is never justified. Even
if your life has been scarred by
misfortune, lacerated by pain, and
your chances of happiness seem
gone forever, there is still hope.
The next chapter of your life can
be full of blessings. You can be, in
Wordsworth’s lovely phrase, “sur-
prised by joy.”
Every bad thing that has hap-
pened to you thus far may be the
necessary prelude to the good
things that are about to happen
because you have been strength-
ened by suffering and given cour-
age by your ability to survive. That
is what we learn from the heroes
of endurance from Joseph to the
Holocaust survivors of today, who
kept going, had faith, refused to
despair, and were privileged to
write a new and different chapter
in the book of their lives.
Seen through the eye of faith,
today’s curse may be the beginning
of tomorrow’s blessing. That is a
thought that can change a life.

The Angel Within
I

n Vayeshev, Yosef, a young man
unjustly imprisoned, finds him-
self interpreting the dreams of
Pharaoh’s cupbearer and baker.
To the cupbearer, Yosef offers
a hopeful message: “In three
days, you will be restored to
your position. But please, Ki
im zechartani — if only you
would remember me and
mention me to Pharaoh.
”
Why “Ki im” (If only)? It
seems almost like a condition.
But Yosef was in no position to
make demands. What was he
trying to convey?
Yosef was telling the cup-
bearer, “You think you’re here because
of your mistake, a fly in Pharaoh’s
wine. But that’s illogical, it’s beyond
your control if a fly should land in his
cup after you presented it to him. You
are here because of me. Your entire
journey — your time in prison and
return to the palace — is not an acci-
dent. It is for one purpose: to bring me
out of this pit.
”
This is about each of us. Often, we
think of ourselves as the center of
the narrative, wondering, “Why am
I here? What is this about me?” But
sometimes we are not Yosef; we are the
cupbearer. We are placed in situations
not for our own sake, but to serve
a greater purpose — to bring about
someone else’s salvation.
Perhaps you’ve experienced ill-
ness, financial difficulty, loss. These
moments are painful, but what if
your struggle has prepared you to be
there for someone else in need? That

moment is your “Ki im zechartani” —
you are not just suffering for yourself,
but for the sake of helping others.
This theme of Divine purpose
echoes through our celebrations
of Chanukah next week. The
story is a deeper lesson in per-
spective. When the Maccabees
reclaimed the Temple and found
only a small jug of oil, enough
for just one day; they could have
focused on the lack of oil and
feared there was no hope. But that
wasn’t the real point of the story.
God allowed them to face this
challenge, knowing that their
scarcity would set the stage for
a miraculous event. This was Divine
intention. God ensured that the light
of the menorah would shine not only
for that generation but for generations
to come.
As we approach the festival of lights,
ask “Who am I here for?” Open your
eyes to the needs around you. You may
find that you are not the one waiting
for angels, but rather, you are the angel
sent to help others. You illuminate the
path for those in need, a light for oth-
ers in their darkest times.
We are all part of something greater.
Every challenge, every struggle and
every moment of our lives serves a
higher purpose. Remember, some-
times you are not here for yourself;
you are here for someone else. Is there
anything greater than being from the
Givers?

Rabbi Josef Abadi is rabbi of Keter Torah

Synagogue in West Bloomfield.

TORAH PORTION

Rabbi Josef
Abadi

Parshat

Vayeshev:

Genesis 37:1-

40:23; Amos

2:6-3:8.