Nameless and Selfless

The first time that Yaakov Avinu sent his sons down to Mitzrayim he issued specific instructions: “Redu Shama V’Shivru Lanu M’Sham.” As we know, however, the task was not so simple. Once in Mitzrayim they encountered Yosef, whom they did not recognize, but seemed determined to make their lives as difficult as possible. The Pessukim are quite detailed in their description of the interactions between Yosef and his brothers, and certainly there is much to be learned from every nuance. As much as we can learn from the details the Torah includes, however, sometimes there is just as much to be learned from that which is left out.

From the outset, Yosef seems to have one goal in mind: to see his brother Binyomin. From the very first time that Bonyomin is mentioned, Yosef insists that the brothers produce him. First, he instructs that one of them should go back the Eretz Yisroel, with the others waiting in Mitzrayim until he returns with their youngest brother. When the threat, and even the reality, of imprisonment does not sway the Shevatim, however, Yosef has a different plan: he decides to hold one of them in prison while the others return to their father to convince him to send Binyomin.

After further discussion, including a tiff among the Shevatim which brings Yosef himself to tears, Shimon is remanded to Yosef’s custody and the remaining brothers are sent back to Bais Yaakov. The agreement that Yosef made with his brothers was that they would be allowed to take provisions back with them, which was after all the initial goal of their trip. The Torah tells us, however, that not only did Yosef give them food, but he also instructed his staff to return the monies paid of the items back into the sacks of the Shevatim. Obviously this was carried out in secret, for Yosef had a ruse to perpetuate.

The following Passukim tell us what then transpired: “Vayiftach HaEchad Es Sako Lases Mispoh L’Chamoro B’Malon”. Upon reaching an inn along the way, one of the brothers open his sack in order to feed his donkey, “Vayar Es Kaspo V’Hinei B’Pi Amtachto”, the returned funds were discovered. He of course reports the find to his brothers, who bemoan their situation.

As we mentioned, the entire story of Yosef and his brothers is told by the Pessukim in great detail, but this Passuk is interesting in this regard: it leaves out one detail that would seem important and includes one that does not. The Torah here does not tell us which of the Shevatim opened his bag—referring to him only as “HaEchad”—but does choose to tell us why he opened his bag—to feed his donkey. Why, if it is not important to know who it was that discovered the money to have been returned, is it vital that we know that he needed to feed his animal?

The Meforshei HaPshat are of course sensitive to the word “HaEchad”, and there are two prevailing opinions regarding to whom the Passuk refers. Rashi explains that “HaEchad” refers to Levi, who was now separated from Shimon. This separation rendered Levi “HaEchad”, singular, as Shimon was not only his brother, but his “Ben Zug”, his partner. The Ibn Ezra, however, maintains that “HaEchad” refers to Reuven, who was the Bechor, the first of the sons. Thesre are the two opinions as far as the detail the Passuk leaves out.

As far as the detail the Passuk did include, “Lases Mispoh L’Chamoro “, there are a variety of opinions as well. The Meforshim approach this words from something a different perspective, however, seeking to explain why only one brother opened his sack to feed his donkey. All the brothers had traveled the same distance—should not all of their animals have been hingry? As we will see, however, the answer to this question may help with ours as well.

The Ramban explains, in a very Pshat oriented approach: normally, animals can subsist on Teven, straw, and especially in times of famine, one would not normally feed his animal “Mispoh”, which is fit for human consumption. Perhaps, explains the Ramban, this one brother’s animal was particularly weak and therefore required Mispoh, and so the Echad was the only one who had reason to open that particular sack, which contained the grain they were bringing back to their families.

Others, in a Mehalech that is perhaps an even more Pashut, suggest that all the animals were fed out of one bag, and so only one brother had to open his sack, which led to his discovery.

Taking into account either of these two Pshatim, we are still left with our original question: why does the Torah tell us this? Why do we have to know that he was opening his bag? Whether it was because the animal was weaker, or because the bag was used to feed all the animals, this detail does not seem pertinent, but of course its inclusion tells us that it is. Why?

There is another answer found in the Meforshim that can perhaps answer this question. The Tur quotes his father, the Rosh, who explains that Levi was in fact tending to two donkeys—his and Shimon’s—and so he had to use up more of the contents of his bag. He was therefore the only one who reached the bottom of his sack, where he found the money.

The two questions are thus related: the Torah refers to Levi as HaEchad, the one, because he was removed from Shimon, his Ben Zug. This was also why he was the one to find the money—because it was he who was in charge of Shimon’s donkey.

The question remains, though, why the Torah did not in fact identify Levi by name? We would still have learned that he was the one who had Shimon’s donkey in any case, from the fact that he found the money in his bag. Why didn’t the Torah use Levi’s name?

If we think about it, there is perhaps no Shevet that had as much impact on Klal Yisroel as that of Shevet Levi. The Shevet of the Kohaim and Leviim, the Melamdei Torah, the Shevet of Moshe Rabbeinu himself—our every era, our every turn, has been affected by members of this Shevet. Even today, when few know the Shevet from which they originate, the Bnei Levi are identifiable. Yet we know so little about the forbearer of these influential members of our nation: Levi himself. Other than the story of Dina and Shechem, there are few Pessukim that mention Levi, his actions or his words. From where did his offspring draw their abilities. How did this one of the Bnei Yaakov merit to have such important and impactful children?

Perhaps the answer lies in this Passuk.

At the end of his life, Moshe Rabbeinu gave each Shevet their own Bracha, in which he referred to their essence. When it comes to Shevet Levi, Moshe said: “Tumecha V’urecha L’ish Chasidecha”, the Urim V’Tumim, which represent the Dvar Hashem itself, were given to “Ish Chasidecha”. Sforno on that Passuk refers to Shevet Levi as “Shevet HaChassid”, indicating that this was a defining characteristic of the Shevet: they were “Chassidim.”

It therefore seems that if we wish to understand from where the Gadlus of Shevet Levi emanates, we must understand this Middah. What is the Chassidus that Moshe refers to? Dovid Hamelech speaks about this Middah in Tehillim, telling us “Deu Ki Hiflah Hashem Chassid Lo”, that Hashem singles out the “Chassid” and treat him with favor. Radak, there, explains what a Chassid is: “Hachassid Hu Mi SheAsa Tova Im Chaveiro Lifnim Mishuras Hadin.” The definition of a Chassid is one who does for others more than is absolutely necessary. This is the Chassid that Dovid Hamelech refers to, and we can assume that this is what is meant by Sforno’s “Shevet HaChassid.”

If we assume that the ability of Shevet Levi to serve as leaders of Klal Yisroel comes from their status as members of the “Shevet HaChassid”, there must be a connection between the two. How does impeccable “Bein Adam L’Chaveiro”, to the point of “Lifnim Meshuras HaDin” translate into leadership capabilities? Why is it that Shevet Levi, who excelled in their treatment of others, were also the Manhigim of our nation in all areas of Ruchni?

Maybe the Torah is answering this question in this Passuk.

“Vayiftach HaEchad Es Sako Lases Mispoh L’Chamoro.” Levi was doing a Chessed—he was caring for the donkey of his brother Shimon—and there are two words in the Passuk that teach us how he did this Chessed. First, the Torah refers to Levi as “HaEchad” because that was his mindset: his own self was irrelevant. He was just a person doing something for his friend, nameless, so to speak. Then, the Torah refers to “Chamoro”, which means his donkey, because Levi looked at Shimon’s donkey as if it were his own. He treated the animal no differently than his very own. This was the Chessed of Levi, and this was the key to his children’s destiny.

In order to be a successful leader, one must think not of himself but of the Klal. Sometimes the work is difficult, and in the case of Kohanim can be physically exhausting, but they must be able to look at themselves as “HaEchad”, being Mevatel themselves to the greater good. Only the “Shevet HaChassid”, steeped in the tradition of “Asa Tova Im Chaveiro Lifnim Mishuras Hadin”, as exemplified by Levi himself, could serve in the important positions that they did. Only Levi’s offspring—and those who can emulate them as the Rambam teaches us at the end of Hilchos Shemitah—can be true Manhigei Ruchni, because only they are capable of this mindset.

It seems that this idea is linked to Chanukah as well.

After lighting the Menorah, we say a short Teffilah that begins with the words “Haneiros Halalu”, which was written in the times of the Geonim. In it we explain the purpose of the Neiros Chanukah: to commemorate the Nissim of the Milchama that was won at the time, as well as the Nes of the Menorah, which occurred “Al Yidei Kohanecha Hakedoshim”. Many ask why these words are necessary—what is added by the fact that the Nissim of the war, as well as the Menorah, came at the hands of the Kohanim?

R’ Moshe Shternbach, in Moadim U’Zmanim, asks a similar question about the words we say in Al Hanissim: “Temeim B’Yad Tehorim, Reshaim B’Yad Tzadikim.” Why is this important, why does this tell us about the Nes? He answers that these words tell us why we are able to still celebrate the Nissim. If the war had been won, even through Nissim, at the hands of Reshaim or Temeim, they would inevitably had taken credit for the win. Their prowess, their foresight, would no doubt have become the story, and the Nes would easily have been forgotten. The only reason we still have Chanukah is because those who took part in the victory were quick to credit the Oseh Nissim for their success. They were the ones who established Chanukah, proclaiming that it was the Nissim of Hakadosh Baruch Hu that led them to their goal.

As we have seen, this was made possible by the fact that the Nitzachon was “Al Yidei Kohanecha Hakedoshim”. Because those involved in the war were members of the “Shevet HaChassid”, those who were accustomed to becoming an Echad, nameless and selfless in their pursuit of Chessed and the good of Klal Yisroel, that the reality of the Nes endured. When we light the Neiros we proclaim that we carry on this practice because the credit for the Nes was properly placed, because it was “Al Yidei Kohanecha Hakedoshim”.

This is an important lesson to take from the Yom Tov. Every day we see Nissim all around us, but it is difficult to recognize them. Instead of giving credit to the Oseh Nissim, we take the credit for ourselves. We convince ourselves, and others, that it is our ingenuity, our connections, our savvy, or our talents that bring about success. Only if we remove our sense of self can we properly recognize the Hashgacha Elyona that is present in everything that happens, and understand that we truly Melumad B’Nissim. If we train ourselves to do so, and proclaim the truth to others, we will be Zoche to open and clear Nissim like those that were done Bayamim Hahem B’Zman HaZeh.