Miketz (Genesis 41:1 - 44:17)
Sefer Bereshith - the Book of Genesis - is the book of dreams and of dreamers. Dreams are a central theme in Genesis. While dreams appear here and there throughout the Bible, nowhere else is there so dense a concentration of dreams as in Sefer Bereshith, and nowhere in Bereshith do they form as significant an element as in the story of Joseph.
What are we to learn from these dreams and this seeming preoccupation with them? Are we to understand that our ancestors had a unique sensitivity to otherworldliness, a special window to the mind of God, a spiritual conduit to God’s will?
Are we to understand that the world has changed, that we have become less than our mythic founders? Why don’t we have prophetic dreams? We may not be Abraham, or Isaac, or Jacob or Joseph, but why can Pharaoh dream of the future while we cannot? Why can his servants see their own destiny, yet we cannot?
Is it, as Yeshayahu Leibowitz seemed to think, that with the giving of the Torah we abandoned the mythic world and embarked upon a world of reason, of observation and of rationality? I would think not. The rationalism of Maimonides is almost an aberration in the history of Jewish thought. The rest of us still need our myths. As Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik pointed out in regard to prayer, Maimonides’ failed in his “attempt to purge Jewish liturgy of poetic elements and anthropomorphic symbols.” Rather than adopt Maimonides’ ideal of philosophically abstract prayer, we “still sing hymns teeming with poetic refrain drawn from the well of human passion and emotion.”
It is our human need that continues to draw us to the stories of Genesis, to read them and interpret them and be moved by them, sometimes even to tears.
And so we have not become different than our ancestors. So what about our dreams?
The Talmud addresses the issue at some length. It would seem that the rabbis, looking back at the dreams of the Bible, wondered if the world had changed, or whether we had simply forgotten the nature of interpretation.
A midrash quoted in the Talmud (Berakhot 55b) teaches that dreams do not have inherent, objective meaning. Rather, dreams mean what we interpret them to mean.
That view of dreams is based upon a verse at the beginning of this week's Torah portion. The chief cupbearer tells Pharaoh that there was a Hebrew youth with him in jail who interpreted his dream. The cupbearer says:
“We told him our dreams, he interpreted them for us telling each of the meaning of his dream.”
So far, it is mere interpretation – psychological analysis. But then he adds:
“And as he interpreted for us, so it came to pass (ka’asher patar lanu, ken haya).”
In using this verse as its proof text, the midrash seems to be saying that dreams come true because we make them come true. Or in the words of the midrash: “Dreams follow the mouth.” What we say they mean is what they come to be.
The midrash adds another important insight into the nature of dreams. It says: "eyn mar’in lo le-adam ela mehirhurei libo" – A person only dreams about things that he is concerned about when he is awake.
Put simply, the midrash says that we dream about what is bothering us. We dream and find the answer to our problem in our understanding of the dream. Then we make it come true. In other words, once we figure out the problem, we solve it.
And so Joseph, who is browbeaten and picked on by his older brothers, has dreams of lording over them. If we follow Joseph’s progress, we note that he doesn’t miss a beat in advancing his career. Joseph will turn any adversity to his favor in realizing his understanding of his dreams.
When he becomes Potiphar’s slave, he doesn’t bemoan his fate and wait for God to save him. He doesn’t wait for his dreams to come true through some divine intervention. He puts himself wholly into the task of becoming the best and most trustworthy servant that Potiphar ever had. And Potiphar makes him head of his household.
When Joseph is thrown into the dungeon, he doesn’t sulk, he gets himself named chief trustee. When he interprets the cupbearer’s dream, he tells him not to forget to mention his name to Pharaoh.
Pharaoh, king of Egypt, worries all day about the economy of Egypt, and he dreams about it at night. When Joseph come along and interprets Pharaoh’s dreams in a way that coincides with Pharaoh’s worries, Pharaoh knows that Joseph is right. After all, as the midrash pointed out, we dream about what worries us.
And having solved Pharaoh’s problem, Joseph doesn’t wait for a reward – no doubt Pharaoh would have given him a nice tip – but he immediately suggests that Pharaoh appoint someone to solve the problem, and then he suggests the solution. He couldn’t have done a better job of advancing his career if he had an MBA from Wharton. Joseph makes his dreams come true.
So for me, what the midrash seems to be saying is that if we think the world has changed since Genesis, if we think that people were closer to God back then, if we think that our ancestors had insights into the workings of God’s mind that we no longer have, we think that only because we read about those dreams and imagine they were a form of prophecy, some window to objective reality.
But if we realize that our dreams and Joseph’s dreams are the same, then we are faced with a challenge.
Thinking that our ancestors knew something we don’t know, or possessed some power that we don’t have, is just a convenient excuse for not trying to be like them. If we accept that we are no different than our ancestors, if we realize that our dreams are just like theirs, then we have no reason for not trying to realize our dreams, and no excuse for not striving to make God as real in our lives as He was in theirs.
Avinoam Sharon
What are we to learn from these dreams and this seeming preoccupation with them? Are we to understand that our ancestors had a unique sensitivity to otherworldliness, a special window to the mind of God, a spiritual conduit to God’s will?
Are we to understand that the world has changed, that we have become less than our mythic founders? Why don’t we have prophetic dreams? We may not be Abraham, or Isaac, or Jacob or Joseph, but why can Pharaoh dream of the future while we cannot? Why can his servants see their own destiny, yet we cannot?
Is it, as Yeshayahu Leibowitz seemed to think, that with the giving of the Torah we abandoned the mythic world and embarked upon a world of reason, of observation and of rationality? I would think not. The rationalism of Maimonides is almost an aberration in the history of Jewish thought. The rest of us still need our myths. As Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik pointed out in regard to prayer, Maimonides’ failed in his “attempt to purge Jewish liturgy of poetic elements and anthropomorphic symbols.” Rather than adopt Maimonides’ ideal of philosophically abstract prayer, we “still sing hymns teeming with poetic refrain drawn from the well of human passion and emotion.”
It is our human need that continues to draw us to the stories of Genesis, to read them and interpret them and be moved by them, sometimes even to tears.
And so we have not become different than our ancestors. So what about our dreams?
The Talmud addresses the issue at some length. It would seem that the rabbis, looking back at the dreams of the Bible, wondered if the world had changed, or whether we had simply forgotten the nature of interpretation.
A midrash quoted in the Talmud (Berakhot 55b) teaches that dreams do not have inherent, objective meaning. Rather, dreams mean what we interpret them to mean.
That view of dreams is based upon a verse at the beginning of this week's Torah portion. The chief cupbearer tells Pharaoh that there was a Hebrew youth with him in jail who interpreted his dream. The cupbearer says:
“We told him our dreams, he interpreted them for us telling each of the meaning of his dream.”
So far, it is mere interpretation – psychological analysis. But then he adds:
“And as he interpreted for us, so it came to pass (ka’asher patar lanu, ken haya).”
In using this verse as its proof text, the midrash seems to be saying that dreams come true because we make them come true. Or in the words of the midrash: “Dreams follow the mouth.” What we say they mean is what they come to be.
The midrash adds another important insight into the nature of dreams. It says: "eyn mar’in lo le-adam ela mehirhurei libo" – A person only dreams about things that he is concerned about when he is awake.
Put simply, the midrash says that we dream about what is bothering us. We dream and find the answer to our problem in our understanding of the dream. Then we make it come true. In other words, once we figure out the problem, we solve it.
And so Joseph, who is browbeaten and picked on by his older brothers, has dreams of lording over them. If we follow Joseph’s progress, we note that he doesn’t miss a beat in advancing his career. Joseph will turn any adversity to his favor in realizing his understanding of his dreams.
When he becomes Potiphar’s slave, he doesn’t bemoan his fate and wait for God to save him. He doesn’t wait for his dreams to come true through some divine intervention. He puts himself wholly into the task of becoming the best and most trustworthy servant that Potiphar ever had. And Potiphar makes him head of his household.
When Joseph is thrown into the dungeon, he doesn’t sulk, he gets himself named chief trustee. When he interprets the cupbearer’s dream, he tells him not to forget to mention his name to Pharaoh.
Pharaoh, king of Egypt, worries all day about the economy of Egypt, and he dreams about it at night. When Joseph come along and interprets Pharaoh’s dreams in a way that coincides with Pharaoh’s worries, Pharaoh knows that Joseph is right. After all, as the midrash pointed out, we dream about what worries us.
And having solved Pharaoh’s problem, Joseph doesn’t wait for a reward – no doubt Pharaoh would have given him a nice tip – but he immediately suggests that Pharaoh appoint someone to solve the problem, and then he suggests the solution. He couldn’t have done a better job of advancing his career if he had an MBA from Wharton. Joseph makes his dreams come true.
So for me, what the midrash seems to be saying is that if we think the world has changed since Genesis, if we think that people were closer to God back then, if we think that our ancestors had insights into the workings of God’s mind that we no longer have, we think that only because we read about those dreams and imagine they were a form of prophecy, some window to objective reality.
But if we realize that our dreams and Joseph’s dreams are the same, then we are faced with a challenge.
Thinking that our ancestors knew something we don’t know, or possessed some power that we don’t have, is just a convenient excuse for not trying to be like them. If we accept that we are no different than our ancestors, if we realize that our dreams are just like theirs, then we have no reason for not trying to realize our dreams, and no excuse for not striving to make God as real in our lives as He was in theirs.
Avinoam Sharon
