For The Love of God
And they sent the Kesones Pasim (Yosef’s coat), and they brought it to their father; and said, this have we found; do you recognize whether or not it is your son’s coat? And he (Yaakov) recognized it and said, it is my son’s coat; an evil beast has devoured him; Yosef is without doubt torn in pieces (37:32-33).
The brothers of Yosef, having sold him into slavery, devise a ruse to mislead their father and explain Yosef’s “disappearance.” They stripped him of the unique coat gifted to him by his father and dipped it into the blood of a male goat (which, according to Rashi 37:31, is similar to human blood). Yaakov recognizes the bloody coat and comes to the (mistaken) conclusion that Yosef has been attacked by a wild animal.
Rashi (37:33) informs us that Yaakov unknowingly made a prophetic statement. The “wild animal” that Yaakov assumes attacked his son actually refers to the wife of Potiphar who would later in the parsha (39:7-16) actually “attack” Yosef; literally grabbing him in an attempt to force him to be with her. Potiphar’s wife is thus referred to as a “wild animal.”
Yet, paradoxically, Rashi (39:1) explains that the Torah juxtaposes the story of Potiphar’s wife with that of Tamar (the righteous daughter-in-law of Yehuda who deceives him into impregnating her) to teach us that both of these women acted l’shem shomayim – “for the sake of heaven.” In other words, both righteous Tamar and the wife of Potiphar were trying to do the right thing for the sake of Hashem. If this is true, how can Potiphar’s wife be called a wild animal?
Understanding why we do what we do – the motivations behind our actions – is a very complicated process. By way of example: Korach, who created a painful rift in Bnei Yisroel by contesting Moshe’s authority, could have easily deluded himself to believe that he was acting for the sake of Hashem. After all he had a multitude of “complaints” against Moshe and Aharon. In fact, Chazal teach us that Korach was a great man; he must have at least convinced himself that his cause was just. However, the Mishna uses Korach as the quintessential example of an argument that is not “for the sake of heaven.” Rashi explains that Korach lacked self-understanding because he was driven not by the worthiness of his cause, but rather by jealousy.
But still, Chazal certify that Potiphar’s wife did in fact “act for the sake of heaven.” How is it possible to act with the right intention and yet still do the wrong thing? The Torah is teaching us an incredible life lesson, one that should reverberate in our mind whenever we are trying to figure out what is the right thing to do.
In every relationship, there comes a time when we want to do something for our beloved, even if we are unsure whether it’s something they desire. We are so convinced that it is good for them that we neglect the essential foundation of the relationship – respect. In other words, if I do something with the right intention but against the wishes of the person I am supposedly doing it for, I may love them but I don't respect them. Real love is built first and foremost on respect; otherwise the love is unbalanced and self-centered.
Potiphar’s wife was trying to do something for Hashem, but she neglected to ask the most important question; is this what Hashem really wants? Am I supposed to act in an adulterous manner and force Yosef into doing something that he feels is wrong? If she had honestly asked herself those questions she would have known that while her intentions were proper, the act was absolutely wrong and abusive. She is therefore likened to a “wild animal.”
Analogous to this are the movements that decided to “improve” on the traditional Halachic Judaism. Without a doubt, when they decided to bring “innovation” to the synagogue, like incorporating music into the service, encouraging families to sit together, moving the service to Sunday, and permitting driving to shul on Shabbos, their intentions were, undoubtedly, “for the sake of heaven.” Clearly, they felt that their “innovations” would enhance the synagogue experience and attendance.
But they forgot the critical question; is this really what Hashem wants? Is this what the synagogue experience was destined to be? Does Hashem want us to violate Shabbos or other Torah laws to improve the synagogue experience? Sadly, had they looked at the question honestly they would have had to answer “no.” This lack of vision led to the disappearance of many Jewish communities and to the assimilation of many millions of Jews. We have to always remember that doing something out of love requires us to first ask, “What does our beloved want?”
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