The word favouritism to our educated, Western, free-thinking mind seems to drag along with it feelings of injustice and inequality, having no place in the “new world” of meritocracy and equality of opportunity. That being the case, when one reads through the Torah portions of the coming weeks, he will be surprised to find such common mention of the favouritism shown by parents to children (even husbands to wives!). Yitzchak loved Esav because he was a hunter. Rivka loved Yaakov. Yaakov himself loved Yosef. What lies in the gap between what the Torah holds to be true, and what we perceive to be appropriate behaviour? In this day and age, no self-respecting author on child raising or family building, would even suggest showing favouritism to one child over another, let alone act on it. Are we to truly believe that our great forefathers, to whom the very same Torah attests to their unparalleled greatness, lacked the subtlety in understanding of basic family dynamics? The same wisdom that teaches of the primacy of the role of the family unit in daily life, is founded by incompetent parents? It is fair to say that even the biggest cynic would have to cave to his intellectual honesty in this case, at the very least conceding that there must be more than meets the eye.
So what are we to make of these thoughts and actions of great men; do we brush them off as another example of an archaic age representing stunted sociological culture, or do we allow our ears to mature enough simply to listen for an explanation that would seem more befitting of the righteous people in question? In this article we will opt for the latter, although there will be many whose ears will not hear the subtleties to come, and will remain with the feeling that the question is better than the answer.
What makes us connect more to certain people and less to others? The basic answer is that we find commonalities, points of connection between us, that even though we may originate from different places with differing life experiences, we can relate to certain ideas on a common ground. Much like a bridge connects two places that were otherwise separated, these “things in common” are our unified identity. That is why we often find that very cultured people, or those who have had a vast range of experiences in their lives, are able to connect with people from a wide range of social circles, whereas people of sheltered backgrounds who have never experienced anything outside of their social bubble will have greater difficulty in understanding others from different backgrounds. Of course there are exceptions, but this is the rule. This is because they have the emotional reference points within their psyche to identify with lots of very different people.
That being the case, the essential message is that we see reflections of our own identity hidden within the identities of others. That engages our curiosity and desire to find out more about this person. It is important to note here, that this is an intellectual venture, and not an emotional one. One's desire for self-knowledge and clarity is an intellectual undertaking, and finding clues to his being through knowing others is exactly that. Although intuition is often a key factor in these cases, it could not be described as being driven by the emotions – it may be more appropriate to term it “intellectual intuition”, where emotions may be a by-product or a secondary factor, but not the driving force itself.
We can now apply the same concept to people in our closer orbit of relationships. Are you more like your mother or your father? Which of your children most reminds you of yourself? One feels comfortable answering these questions (at least in his mind), as there is a natural instinctive answer to the question, that goes beyond the emotional connection to the person. It does not even necessitate that you “love” that person more with your emotions, you simply see that they contain within them an aspect of “you” that others do not posses. And the more you share of yourself, the more that “love” grows.
When the Torah describes Yaakov's “love” for Yosef, this is what it is referring to. It does not mean that of the emotional aspect of love he apportions more to Yosef than his other sons – that is something we simply could not know. The Torah is neither a psychology book nor a history book; it may teach us values of psychological or historical significance, but that is not its primary function. Its function is to be an eternal guide to life, teaching us about ourselves and the world around us, as well as its Creator.
The Torah describes Yaakov's relationship with Yosef as characterising that of “love” because Yaakov saw himself, and his life mission, expressed within Yosef. There is much evidence for this too. The Torah describes Yosef as being Yaakov's firstborn son (אלה תולדות יעקב יוסף) even though he was chronologically his eleventh son; the reason being that Yosef was firstborn to Rachel, and Yaakov worked for Lavan solely to win her hand in marriage (ע' מהרשא סוטה לו ע”ב). The Gemara (Sotah 36b) testifies that Yosef was meant to have twelve children just like his father Yaakov, becoming the next link in the chain as his father before him. Rashi even quotes a source describing how Yosef looked like Yaakov (ע' רש"י עה"פ בן זקונים). The Midrash (ב"ר פ"ד ס"ו) makes the correlation that everything that happened in Yaakov's life, subsequently happened to Yosef (and lists over 20 such instances), which is an exact description of the common “points of reference” connecting people we described above.
So what was it that our sages actually criticized Yaakov for, if in fact his thoughts were entirely justified? One would presume that it was not his thoughts being criticized, but rather his actions. Thinking something is one thing, but acting on it is another. Yaakov gave Yosef a special coat, he taught him wisdom he did not share with the other brothers – and this caused the jealousy and all that was to follow. However, this alone seems rather difficult to criticise. Our children all have very different needs, and we would be foolish parents to give them all equally. Take an extreme example, a parent has two children, and one has learning difficulties. The parent will give more attention to the child with the learning difficulties, as that is what he needs. He may get a computer to assist his learning, whereas the other child may not. Another example: two children, one is more academic, the other less. Good parents would encourage the more academic child to higher education and the less academic one to pursue other pathways, such as work or the arts (why should the less academic child be made to suffer, being branded a failure of the educational system for the rest of his life when he may be very successful in business or some other pursuit?). The point here is that different children have different needs and a responsible parent tends to those needs differently; not lumping them in the same category, blindly assuming that they all need the very same things to succeed in life (or to receive those things which he received as a child).
Yaakov perceived that for Yosef's life mission he would require certain possessions and wisdom, which his brothers would not, and his actions reflect that perfectly. What, then, was his “sin” for which our sages criticized him?
There is a concept in Jewish thought that the most righteous individuals are judged by a hair's breadth. This means that for the tzaddik, every iota of his combined thought and action, every aspect of his intention, is taken into consideration based on his elevated level of existence. Somewhere in there, the sages concluded that since the resultant chain of events were so dire, leaving even Yaakov himself in mourning, there must have been some minutely immeasurable spec of problematic intent on his behalf. Let us not be mistaken, had we have acted in this way, we would have been considered saints and heroes. It is due to his very greatness, that Yaakov's “sin” even takes form. Just as a parent judges his wise son based on his potential and not on the depraved actions of the society around him, so too Hashem judges His most righteous children according to their potential, and not in the same manner He judges others.
The lesson, as always, is that the reading of the Torah on a superficial level, leaves us empty and unchanged. The Torah is described as a living Torah in that its teachings live within us all. The Torah is compared to the sea, for one who observes the sea from the shore, having never set foot in the water, will conclude that it's depth is uniform and shallow all over. Only one who gets his feet wet will experience the depths the sea has to offer, and the deeper he walks, the deeper it gets. Such is true in regards to the eternal wisdom of the Torah, only when one wets his feet and experiences its depth, will it be able to penetrate his heart.
