“Enough is Enough"
Toward the end of the Parshat Miketz, Yaacov is forced by famine to relinquish his youngest son Binyamin and allow him to go with his brothers to Mitzrayim. As he does so, he turns to Hashem with a prayer (Bereisheit 43:14): “May E-l Sha-dai grant you compassion before the man, and he will release to you your other brother and Benjamin, and as for me as I am bereaved, I am bereaved.” This is the tefillah of a tzaddik who is suffering. In order to understand it, we have to look a little more closely both at the test that Yaacov is facing, and also the particular name of Hashem he uses in his prayer.
At the time that he utters this prayer, Yaacov is facing his longest and hardest test. It had begun almost twenty-two years earlier. Rashi describes (Bereisheit 37:2) how Yaacov, after having dealt with Eisav, Lavan and Dina, and after having finally settled with his family in Eretz Yisrael, was hoping for and expecting some peace in his life. This was not just a matter of wanting to rest. Yaacov had a strong desire to return to his spiritual roots. As we mentioned previously, Yaacov was connected spiritually to the Eitz HaChayim, the tree of life. He was born to sit in tents and connect himself to the Torah. However, taking on Eisav’s avodah, in addition to his own, had forced Yaacov into galut. When he finally returns to Eretz Yisrael, having built the family his father and grandfather had dreamed of, Yaacov thought he would have the opportunity to relax into his essential avodah. And then, Yosef disappeared, and with him many of Yaacov’s hopes and dreams.
It was not just that Yaacov had lost Yosef, although that would have been bad enough. Yaacov knew that the future of the Jewish people hinged on his having twelve sons. He had a nevuah that as long as none of his sons died in his lifetime, he would not see Gehenom. Then, at exactly the time that Yosef disappeared, the presence of the shechina left him. What was Yaacov to think? Rashi, quoting the midrash, (Bereisheit 37:2) calls this test “rogzo shel Yosef, the troubles of Yosef” but Rav Schorr points out that rogez also means anger. This was the test where it appeared that Hashem was angry at Yaacov. R’ Bunim of Peshischa points out how astonishing it is that Yaacov maintained his avodah through this long test. For twenty-two years, without his beloved son, without any certainty that he had succeeded in his mission of building the Jewish nation, and without the presence of the shechina, Yaacov persisted and succeeded in his avodah of maintaining emunah when Hashem’s presence was hidden.
This last test of Yaacov’s is the maaseh avot siman l’banim for the galut we now find ourselves in. Like the troubles with Yosef, our galut, too, began with lashon harah and hatred of one Jew for another. Like Yaacov, we live in a world without nevuah, and the galut feels like it stretches along endlessly. We too live with a reality that could be wrongly interpreted as Hashem being angry at us (this is, in fact, what the Catholic Church has been telling us for centuries.) And like Yaacov, our mission is to maintain our emunah, our knowledge of our relationship with Hashem, through it all.
Rav Schorr explains that we have the strength to get through all this because Yaacov planted it within us. Maaseh avot siman l’banim would be meaningless if it were just a way for us to know what will happen in the future from what happened in the past. Instead, it is a spiritual reality that the Avot implanted within us. Their actions, their avodah, impacts us spiritually today. When I want to understand this on a more personal level, I think of my grandparents, a”h. They had a loving and joyful relationship, and a vivacious, youthful old age, Baruch Hashem. That reality gives me both the desire and the ability to build the same for myself. On a national level, the spiritual seeds the avot planted so many years ago are still inspiring us and keeping us going. Yaacov’s strength, his ability to hold onto his emunah for twenty-two years, is our strength as well.
Rav Schorr explains that the prayer that Yaacov uttered for himself and his sons is a prayer for us as well. The essence of that prayer lies in the name E-l Sha-dai. The meaning behind this name is given in Chagiga 12a which explains that when Hashem created the world it began to expand, becoming more and more physical. As it did so, Hashem’s presence became more and more hidden in the world. The physical expansion of the world needed to be limited so that the physicality of the world would not obscure the presence of Hashem. The name Sha-dai expresses Hashem’s ability to define the moment of perfect bechira, when the ability to see Hashem in the world and the ability to hide Hashem in the world were evenly matched, and to say to the world, at that exact moment, “Dai, Enough.”
Rashi (Bereisheit 43:14) says Yaacov’s prayer was, “May He Who said to His world, “Enough!” (שֶׁאָמַר דָּי) say to my troubles, “Enough!” The tefillah was an expression of emunah for himself, and also for us. Hashem is a creator who knows when to say “enough.” He knows that moment when the troubles have served their purpose as mechanisms for growth. At whatever moment the word “enough” needs to be said, Hashem will say it and everything will turn around. If Hashem has not yet said it, that means there is still room to move forward in our present situation. And we can draw on the strength we got from Yaacov to keep us moving.