Now Yosef was the ruler over the land; it was he who sold grain to the entire populace of the land.
Bereshit 42:6
It is remarkable that of the Avot, the three forefathers of the People of Israel, not one of them was officially called a tzaddik (righteous man) by the Talmudic and midrashic Sages. Only Yaakov’s son Yosef was granted that title.[1] This is rather strange, since it cannot be denied that Avraham, Yitzhak and Yaakov were also outstandingly pious people.
It may be that the reason for this special honor is because, paradoxically, Yosef did not at all appear to be a tzaddik. If anything, the reverse might have been more accurate.
There can be little doubt that during Yosef’s reign in Egypt, he must have been seen as a ruthless person who didn’t hesitate to make the lives of his fellow people unbearable, particularly those of his brothers and father. We should not overlook the fact that the Torah and commentaries offer readers a huge advantage, telling them the whole story in just a few chapters, so they have no time to resent Yosef before discovering his righteousness at the end of the story! This privilege, however, was not granted to any of the people with whom Yosef actually spent a good part of his life.
Yosef’s life is the epitome of complicated human existence in the extreme. It is a life in which human conditions are far from ideal. There are no black-and-white choices, where it is easy to take a stand, and where the good guys and bad guys are clearly identified. Every choice includes a complex mixture of good and bad. Even with the best intentions, people sometimes cannot help hurting those they love the most, and doing favors for those who are corrupt.
Population transfer
Reading the story, one wonders what must have gone through Yosef’s mind and heart when he took a tough stand against the people of Egypt. He bought up everything they owned, leaving the entire population with no personal possessions, and enslaved to Pharaoh. The text also clearly indicates that Yosef uprooted everyone from their homes; and all of them became refugees in their own country.[2] This was nothing less than mass population transfer and dispersal, one of the worst human experiences. Commentators explain that this was the only way he was able to save the country from even greater disaster and, in fact, the only way to revive the economy.[3] Still, it must have greatly distressed him to bring about such upheaval in the nation. Few could have understood what he did, and millions must have cursed him for making their lives miserable.
Yosef’s behavior toward his father and brothers also must have caused him sleepless nights, year after year. While ruling the Land of Egypt, he never told his father that he was still alive. His own life must have been unbearable every time he thought of his suffering father. How can I endure one more day knowing that my father is in constant anguish because of me?
His terribly strong stand against his brothers, when they came to Egypt to buy food, must have given him nightmares and caused him depression as well. What will my brothers and all the servants in the palace think of me? In their eyes I must seem like a cruel despot looking for sadistic ways to hurt people whenever possible. What are they thinking of me as I am imprisoning Shimon and forcing my brothers to bring Binyamin to Egypt?
Revealing true motivation?
Still, as many commentators explain, Yosef had no option but to do what he did. In fact, it was his deep devotion and his concern for those he loved that motivated him.[4] Surely he must have dreamed of the day when he would be able to reveal to those he had hurt the true motivation behind his harsh actions.
But, as the Torah clearly reveals, even this Yosef was not granted. His father never knew what his real motives were, and his brothers clearly showed after the death of their father that they suspected Yosef would take revenge on them.[5] How painful it must have been for Yosef to realize that even in his old age he could not tell anybody why he had acted as he did without revealing what his brothers had in fact done to him. And that was not an option for him.
He was convinced that he would go to his grave considered by millions to have been a merciless leader. The fact that he had saved the Egyptian economy would make little difference in the eyes of all who would never comprehend why he needed to achieve that goal through the harsh measures he took. Their expression of gratitude[6] may well have been the kind of forced courtesy often given to a dictator.
What a relief it would have been for him to know that hundreds of years later, the Torah and its commentators would reveal the entire story and prove his righteous intentions! Still, one wonders whether he would have even agreed that God include this story in the Torah, giving his brothers a bad name!
The utter conviction of the tzaddik
This, indeed, is the tragedy of practically every tzaddik. Tzaddikim are, for the most part, people who are unable to reveal their true intentions and righteousness. Often they must work under the most agonizing circumstances, sometimes hurting people when it is the only way to prevent an even greater tragedy. This is the reason why they cannot always be “nice guys” and “well-mannered people.”
Tzaddikim hold to a higher purpose; they cannot allow themselves to sway with the winds. The saying “When you stand for nothing you fall for everything” applies to them. But standing for something may very well give one a bad name, no matter how noble the intentions. The tzaddik can only hope that perhaps someday, people will discover what they were really all about and how painful it was to be a “hidden tzaddik.” Unfortunately, there is usually little chance of that happening. After all, who is as privileged as Yosef to have his or her real story written in an eternal book?
This is the reason why the title “tzaddik” was bestowed upon Yosef in particular. While it is true that his father, grandfather and great-grandfather were illustrious people, the sages realized that only Yosef had to do so much that he detested doing, so as to become a real tzaddik. In fact, the Midrash makes it abundantly clear that it was the tough measures he took that earned him the title “tzaddik.”
To be righteous, with the full awareness that nobody will ever know the real story, and to have one’s deeds condemned, is one of the most painful human experiences and is a great tragedy. Only the knowledge that the One Above knows the real story, as well as the conviction that it is more important that others benefit from one’s deeds than to be assured of the recognition of one’s real intentions — only this gives the ultimate feeling of spiritual satisfaction for which the tzaddik strives.
Questions to Ponder from the DCA Think Tank
- Rabbi Cardozo writes, “It may, however, be suggested that the reason for this special honor is because, paradoxically, Yosef did not at all appear to be a real tzaddik. If anything, the reverse.” Noah, too, was explicitly called a tzaddik, despite his later odd behavior. And, though no woman is called tzaddika in Tanach, Yehudah points out that Tamar “tzadka mimeni”—admitting that she was more “tzaddika” or righteous than he. This, though Tamar, too, did not seem much like a tzaddika—in fact, she posed as a prostitute!
Notwithstanding the above, nowadays the term “tzaddik” or “tzaddeket” almost always makes people think of people who pray and learn all day and never sin, rather than the complex characters Rabbi Cardozo describes. Why have we abandoned the original concept? - Rabbi Cardozo writes that when one knows Yosef’s full story, one cannot bear a grudge against him. But once we know someone’s whole story, is it ever possible to bear a grudge against them? Could anyone ever be judged as wicked if we could theoretically trace his/her actions and motivations from their origins? What is your opinion?
- If you believe we cannot separate individual actions from their context in order to judge them, what does this say about free choice? And if we can separate individual actions from their context in order to judge them, then what exempts Joseph from being called ruthless?
- Joshua Sobol wrote the excellent play Ghetto about the Vilna Ghetto. The play features Jacob Gens, based on the real man who headed the ghetto, who made deep compromises and worked with the German authorities in order to save Jews. Gens is still seen by some as a collaborator and by some as a pragmatic hero. Do you think Gens was a modern-day Yosef? Do you think that those who see him as a wicked man would continue to do so if they could see his whole story?
- Why can’t a tzaddik sway with the winds? What is the line between “swaying with the winds” and allowing oneself to consider the new information and changing values of society? Must one be hermetically sealed, or intransigent, in order to be a true tzaddik? And does not this contradict Rabbi Cardozo’s suggestion that a tzaddik is a complex person?
- Could the tzaddik/a be representative of a group within the Jewish people, one that, for example, does not allow itself to sway with the winds? Are there other equally important Jewish archetypes that are representative of other groups within the nation? e.g. the rahman/a, amcha, navi/nevi’a, The chacham/a, hassid/a, nazir/nezira or kanai/t (merciful person, ordinary citizen, prophet, wise/learned person, mystical, devoted person, ascetic, zealot)? What other types could you think of? Which of these most describes you or the group with which you identify?
Notes
[1] See Midrash Tanchuma, Buber ed., Noah 4.
[2] Bereshit 47.
[3] See Sigmund A. Wagner-Tsukamoto, “The Genesis of Economic Cooperation in the Stories of Joseph: A Constitutional and Institutional Economic Reconstruction,” Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament 29, no. 1 (2015): 33-54.
[4] See, for example, the commentaries of Ramban and Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch on this Chapter.
[5] Bereshit 50:15.
[6] Ibid., 47:25.
