Parshas Veychi 5782
The silence is deafening.
From the way the conversation ends, it would appear that Yaakov was ultimately swayed by the rectitude of Shimon and Levi’s attack on Shechem. In Parshas Vayeitzei, after receiving their father’s rebuke, the brothers respond that they effectively had no choice:
.וַיֹּאמְרוּ הַכְזוֹנָה יַעֲשֶׂה אֶת־אֲחוֹתֵנוּ
בראשית לד:לא
But they said, “Should our sister be treated like a harlot?”
Bereishis 34:31
To this, Yaakov is silent and the Torah moves on to a new episode. Shimon and Levi have the last word. The question they pose to Yaakov—how could they not defend their sister’s honor?—remains ringing in the ears of anyone reading the parsha. Yaakov is without a rejoinder; in the end, he must have agreed with their actions.
Or so it would seem. Fast forwarding to this week’s parsha, we find that the episode is still fresh in Yaakov’s mind, along with the conviction that his sons’ behavior was in error:
שִׁמְעוֹן וְלֵוִי אַחִים כְּלֵי חָמָס מְכֵרֹתֵיהֶם׃
בראשית מט:ה
Shimon and Levi are brothers; their weapons are instruments of violence.
Bereishis 49:5
Making oblique reference to their attack on Shechem, Yaakov goes on to further denounce the brothers’ activities and ultimately passes over them both before bestowing the kingship their younger brother, Yehudah. It would seem that Shechem is still quite fresh in Yaakov’s mind and that his feelings about the episode remain unchanged. The question is, what took so long to say so?
In holding his tongue, Yaakov is actually teaching us a powerful lesson about parenting and leadership in general: You can maintain authority in the long run, without needing to win the argument that lays immediately before you. The altercation with his sons does not escalate into a screaming match. Despite Yaakov’s conviction of their error, he maintains the right to respond to that error accordingly, without engaging in the futile exercise of convincing them of a truth that is beyond their understanding.
If this seems a small task, consider how frequently we do otherwise. The allure of winning the argument is great, and we’ll do what it takes to achieve it. We find ourselves in the ironic position of acting like children as we try to convince our children that we’re right and they’re wrong. In the interest of flexing our muscles of leadership and authority, we undermine those very things by descending into a power struggle with those who report to us. Yaakov shows us another way. If you know you are in control, are confident in your authority, you can simply act on it later. You need not bicker in the present.
This is not to say that we should simply shut the door to the opinions of others. Indeed, sage council can often come from even the youngest and most unlikely of sources (as I’ve written about here). Being receptive to input and constructive criticism is critical to ensuring that we develop as parents, leaders, and people in general and that we do not construct an ivory tower for ourselves that no outside insight can penetrate.
But not every conversation or opinion is as productive as all that. We can usually tell when an interaction is about to sour, when we’ve arrived at an impasse. Yet that visceral need to be right boils up inside us and the passion for our point to be heard and accepted overwhelms us. It is at those times that we best follow Yaakov’s lead. We don’t need to get the last word in, we can simply exercise our authority at a time when it will matter most. As Theodore Roosevelt famously said, “Speak softly and carry a big stick.”
Because the desire to be proven right in the moment is so strong, acting the part of Yaakov is no simple feat. What can help us get there is by trying to remember why it is that we want to win the argument in the first place.
Ultimately, we want to be the authority, the one that is looked up to and whose opinion matters most. We want followers, acolytes, and children who revere us. Not only does winning every argument not get us there, it may well undermine those very goals. Bickering projects a sense of parity between the two arguing parties. If you feel the need to argue with me, then my opinion must be just as valid as yours. Are you really the authority after all?
Because of his silence, Yaakov comes across as a dignified statesmen and a calm and collected patriarch. As he lays on his deathbed in our parsha, Shimon and Levi are by his side. Would that have been the case had he berated them and forced them to accept his opinion over theirs? The bracha Yaakov pronounces at the end of his life is heard and accepted by all his children because none have been marginalized. Yaakov is recognized as the leader because he did not force that reality down anyone’s throat.
When our authority is disrespected, our natural reaction is to reassert it. Immediately. But Yaakov Avinu shows us another, more effective way. We don’t need to bicker over our kids’ allowance or bedtimes. We don’t need to squabble with direct reports about the necessity of a project that simply must get done. Students don’t need to be convinced of the value of tests and assessments. Those arguments can often erode the very authority that we’re so desperately arguing to maintain. We can learn to remain confident in our authority silently, and calmly assert it when it matters most.