Rabbi Yaakov Galinsky
“They looked and saw: a caravan of Ishmaelites was coming from Gilead. Their camels were laden with spices, balm, and frankincense” (Genesis, 37:25).
“Why does the Torah mention what they were carrying? To show the reward of the righteous. The Arabs usually transported petroleum and itran [an oil with a very foul smell], which smell bad, but Joseph encountered a caravan carrying spices so that the bad smell would not harm him” (Rashi).
Joseph was the youngest son, one might say—a prince. At his father's request, he goes to see how his brothers are doing—and suddenly his world literally collapses. They want to kill him, throw him into a pit full of snakes and scorpions, and ignore him as he sobs and begs for mercy… Then they strip him of his special tunic, sell him into slavery, and make him swear that he will not return to his father's home or let anyone know that he is alive. He is effectively condemned to lifelong slavery and lifelong exile…
What difference does it make to him what the caravan is carrying? How can we understand this?
Let us explain, as always, with a story. My righteous father-in-law, Rav Chaim Binyamin Brod, was a Breslov Hasid. Through his own example, he lived by the words of his teacher, Rabbi Nachman: “It is a great mitzvah to be joyful always and to make every effort to keep sadness and despondency at bay.” Because he would not agree to work on Shabbat, he could not find work in Soviet Russia. There was no work—the family was starving. And still he remained joyful. Nevertheless, he needed an income. He decided to move his family to Moscow. Perhaps there, in the big city, he could find at least some kind of work that would allow him to observe Shabbat. After arriving in Moscow, he began going from place to place, asking people where he could find a job. His inquiries aroused the suspicions of Cheka agents, and he was arrested. He was sent to the most terrifying place of the time—the Lubyanka. This happened on Friday morning. On Saturday, he was called in for questioning, and the investigator soon realized that the man before him was a poor Jewish newcomer who was simply looking for work. He had nothing whatsoever to do with spies. The investigator apologized and said he was letting him go; he only needed to sign the interrogation record.
Rav Chaim replied that he did not sign anything on Shabbat. What? Religious nonsense—in a Soviet prison? Shouting did not help, nor did threats. “Take him back to his cell!” roared the enraged investigator. “Let him sit there until he gives in!”
He was taken back to his cell, and he… began to dance!
Why was he dancing? Because he told himself: surely I ended up in prison because of my sins, so it would have been better if I had not sinned and been punished. But now I am in prison only because I am observing Shabbat! So I should rejoice!
The guard did not understand either: “Why are you dancing?”
“You see,” Rav Chaim explained, “I came to Moscow to earn a living. And why does a person need money? To have bread and a roof over his head. Well, here I have both bread and bedding to sleep on, without doing any work. How can I not be happy?”
“And when will you agree to leave?” the guard asked.
“In the evening, after three stars come out in the sky—that is when I, too, will come out, and then I will be dancing with the moon…”
And that is what happened: in the evening, the guard came, had him sign the record, and released him. Well, he had been released, but what should he do now? Keep wandering around?
What should he do? Pray, of course. He prayed and continued looking for work. He was one of the tens of thousands who had moved to Moscow at the time. And perhaps the only one who was unwilling to work on Shabbat. Finally, he found a job at a factory, for a pittance—as a night watchman. But to him, it was a gift: he was given a little heated room where he had to sit every night and keep watch. In fact, there was practically nothing he needed to do. So he could pray in peace, recite ‘Tikkun Chatzot,’ study, and spend time alone with the Almighty to his heart's content! And his family would live on that tiny salary! How happy he was!
He told this story so vividly, citing Rabbi Nachman's comment on the words: “I will praise my G-d while I still exist.” When troubles come, we should rejoice in what is “still” there: a ray of sunshine, a small consolation. As it is said: “In the narrow place (distress), You gave me room”—even within the trouble itself, the Almighty, blessed be He, gives us room. For if a person looks at the Almighty's blessings, he will see that even at the very moment when the Almighty seems to bring trouble upon him, within that very trouble He gives him room and increases His kindness toward that person. In other words, besides our expectation that the Almighty, blessed be He, will soon deliver us from all our troubles and bestow goodness upon us, He gives us room within the trouble itself.
And then, if we see goodness and chesed in the midst of our trouble, in difficult circumstances, we turn the attribute of judgment into the attribute of chesed and make “In the narrow place You gave me room” a reality.
Indeed, my father-in-law's trouble turned into “room”: he kept watch all night in his little room, studying and praying there, and in the morning his shift ended. He went to pray the morning prayers, and after that, the whole day belonged to him. He wandered around the city looking for Jews like himself who had come to the capital and were looking for somewhere to spend the night. Until they got settled, he welcomed them into his little room at the factory. They came, bringing their own food and books—one a Chumash, another a Mishnah, and a third even had a Gemara. They studied, ate, and drank. And so a beit midrash opened on the grounds of a state-owned factory in Moscow…
This is advice that helps in any difficult situation, in any trouble.
How distraught Joseph was when he realized that his brothers wanted to kill him and then sold him into slavery! He lost his freedom, was torn away from his father's home, and, as the saying goes, “fell from a high roof into a deep pit.” His whole world simply collapsed—things could not have been worse!
And then they put him on a camel carrying… fragrant spices! Here was a spark of light in the darkness. The Almighty's chesed.
When Joseph recognized this chesed and expressed thanks for it, the attribute of judgment turned into the attribute of chesed. He was sold to an important official, the Almighty was with him, and in everything he did, the Almighty helped him succeed. Then he was put in charge of the entire household, and later, when he was imprisoned, he was put in charge of the prisoners. From prison, he came before the king—Pharaoh.
Thus, by finding a drop of goodness, he transformed the Almighty's entire treatment of him for the better.
This is what was meant by the saying: “Anyone who shares his sorrow with the Almighty has his reward doubled” (Berakhot, 63a). In Hebrew, instead of the Almighty's Name, the expression “Shem Shamayim” (the Name of Heaven) is used, which our Sages interpret as “esh ve-mayim” (fire and water). Fire is the attribute of judgment. But if a person looks closely and finds “water” within it—the attribute of goodness—he turns the way he is treated toward goodness, and the gates of abundance open twice as wide for him!