Skip to main content

Whose Knees?

In another two days, I am scheduled to see my surgeon, who, if all is well with my knee, will allow me to remove the brace which has kept it straight as a ruler for six weeks and begin relearning how to bend.
It is therefore more than a bit auspicious that the parashah which we read today, Vayechi, contains two mentions of “knees” (of the four in all the Torah). The latter mention, “Also the sons of Machir, son of Menashe, were born on Yosef’s knees”, is clearly not be taken literally. Rather, as Rashi writes, it means Yosef raised them, or, perhaps, as this grandpa has experienced, they grew up knocking around his knees, and thus got to know their great-grandpa.
Not so the former mention. There, in the midst of the complex and confusing dance which is Yaakov’s blessing to his two grandsons, Menashe and Ephraim, it states, “And he (Yosef) removed them (the grandsons) from between his (Yaakov’s) knees and he prostrated himself, face to ground”
Ibn Ezra writes that this verse belongs later, in reference to the end of the blessing process, as a parting withdrawal and gesture of obeisance. Radak differs, asserting that the verse is referring to a rearrangement of the initial approach of the grandsons to enable the proper formalities of the blessing. Either way, the verse highlight the problematic logistics of the approach, right, left, forward, backward, in anticipation of the blessing.
And how was it that the boys were between their dying grandfather’s knees? Shadal tells us – when earlier in the parashah, Yaakov hears that Yosef is coming, he rallies his strength and “sits on the bed”. Shadal envisions Yaakov swinging his legs over the bed as he rises into sitting position. Thus, his knees, those child-raising knees, are ready to receive the two boys. And, in fact, when, much later, Yaakov has concluded all his blessing to his twelve sons, Shadal reminds us, Yaakov “gathers his legs to his bed and expires”.
And yet, perhaps a figurative interpretation is alluded to as well. Knee and blessing share the same consonantal root in Hebrew. Yaakov tells Yosef he is effectively adopting his grandsons as sons, in order that they will have the same status, vis a vis inheritance and tribal affiliation, as his own sons. In order for this to be effective, Yosef must withdraw his claim to his own sons. Yaakov tells Yosef as much, when he says, “Take them to me, please, and I will bless them”. Note: not “bring”, but rather “take”. The work “take” is the standard word for formal, legal acquisition. Thus, when it says, “and he brought them forth from with (lit.) his knees”, perhaps it’s referring to Yosef, removing them from his natural parental claim (compare Chanah and Shmuel) represented by the knees, removing them from his blessings (“birkav” understood creatively as “his blessings”), and then, prostrating himself in submission to his own father.
The proud, erect ruler of Egypt, at the height of his powers, on his knees before his wizened, nearly blind and close to death father, relinquishing his own sons and the power to bless them… only to get it all back in a double portion of bounty and blessing. Has there ever been a more profound bend of the knee from son (Yosef) to father? Has there ever been a more enveloping, though seemingly indirect, blessing from father (Yosef) to son(s)?

The angels cannot bend their knees and they do not bless. They are forever upstanding, forever enlightened – not so us humans. I’ve had a partial taste of ramrod straight-leggedness these past six weeks, and I yearn once more to bend the knee, perhaps to fall, but then, with effort, belief and perseverance, to raise myself toward my Maker on that universal joint that blesses us with, and teaches us through, its flexibility.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The One (People) Who Must Not Be Named

Just as Balak brings Bil’am to consider his enemy from various vantage point, likewise does Parashat Balak allow us to view ourselves from the vantage point of others. The main story in Balak is of a single piece, and Am Yisrael appear only as foils for the central story – the interaction of Bil’am with Hashem. What is curious is that not only does Am Yisrael not appear as a real character in the story, we don’t even get a mention. Every time Balak or Bil’am refer to Am Yisrael in the non-visionary passages, they employ indirection: “this people”, “my enemies”, but never Yisrael. It almost feels that they are avoiding speaking the name, one which Bil’am, at least, employs so beautifully in his prophetic speeches. Now, recalling that this story of the interaction of other nations with Am Yisrael is being told in the Torah, I think the message is this: Yisrael is our name in the context of our covenantal interactions with Hashem, just as Hashem’s real name is used only in the conte...

My G-d, a Navaho?

--> Shabbat Shirah, it’s time to sing. Standing on the edge of a Red Sea that has returned to its roiling nature, drowning the fleeing, terrified Egyptian charioteers, Am Yisrael is ecstatic and, with Moshe, breaks into song. They sang in unison a song that welled up from a prophetic vision of redemption that, our sages tell us, outstripped even the visions of Yechezk’el and Isaiah, both of whom “saw” Hashem enthroned on high. The song so permeated the very fabric of being that it is introduced with the imperfect mood of the verb – Az Yashir Moshe… “Then Moshe will sing”, as though the song is every ringing in the background of our Jewishness. So what did they sing? Pure poetry, and therefore, as difficult to feel confident in parsing as it must be even to attempt to imagine what they were feeling at that moment. And yet, we reprise it every day in our morning prayers, as part of Pesukei D’Zimra. Every verse of this song is fit for deep reflection; I’ve chosen...

The Mishkan as an Instance of Tzaddik

I was speaking last night with Yonatan Neril, a student at the yeshiva with a keen interest in exploring the nexus between Torah and environmental consciousness. We were discussing a seminar he will be giving, G-d willing, in the Bat Area in the next few months. He wanted to present Ya'akov Avinu as a model of environmental consciousness, focusing on two episodes of his life as depicted by the Midrash. The first is the famous image of Ya'acov at the Yabok, preparing for the encounter with Esav and, having crossed his family safely over the river, goes back for pachim ketanim , little flasks, seeming worthless given the danger hovering over Ya'acov, yet, as we are told, the righteous prize their few possessions, since they attest to the fact that they have studiously avoided theft. Variants of that Midrash tell us that the contents of those small vials was olive oil from the branch presented by the dove to Noach and preserved during all the intervening generations. The o...