But Rebbe, I Don’t Want To Be A Rebbe

Parshas Vayigash 5780

I will often encourage my students to think beyond tests. To not merely study well enough to fare well on an exam, but to truly develop skills in Torah learning: how to decipher a Gemara, a Rashi, a Tosfos. “This way you’ll be able to continue learning independently for the rest of your lives,” I tell them.

“But Rebbe, I don’t want to be a Rebbe.” 

Ugh. 

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Before his descent to Egypt with his family, Yaakov sent his son Yehudah to prepare the way:

(ואת יהודה שלח לפניו אל יוסף להורת לפניו גשנה (בראשית מו:כח

He sent Judah ahead of him to Joseph, to prepare ahead of him in Goshen (Bereishis 46:28)

Rashi cites the Midrash explaining the nature of this preparation:

לתקן לו בית תלמוד

To prepare a house of study

In commanding Yehudah to do so, perhaps Yaakov was mindful of a precedent that had already been set by one of his other sons, referenced earlier in this very parsha.

When Yosef sends his brothers back to Canaan to collect their families and father and return to Egypt, he makes a point of sending wagons that will transport them back down. Rashi (מה:כז ד׳׳ה את כל דברי יוסף) quotes the Midrash that the purpose of sending wagons, specifically, was meant as a word-play. “Wagon” in Hebrew is agalah, which is related to the word eglah, meaning “Calf”. With this, Yosef communicated to his father that he still hadn’t forgotten their last study session, when they pored over the details of the mitzvah of Eglah arufah—the ritual of breaking a calf’s neck when an unidentified corpse is found in the wilderness of Eretz Yisrael. 

Why is this Yosef’s message to his father? Why not a reference to some other shared memory between father and son related to tefilah or chessed or Shabbos that only Yosef was privy to and would have served as proper authentication that it was indeed Yosef sending for his father? Perhaps Yosef was interested in communicating not only that he was physically alive, but also how, precisely, he maintained his spiritual health. When it comes to creating a relationship with Hashem strong enough to survive exile, only Talmud Torah will suffice.

Shir Hashirim is dedicated to the idea that we view our relationship with Hashem as a marriage. Throughout the Sefer, Hashem and the Jewish People speak of one another as דודי, “my Beloved”. There is much to making a successful marriage work, but a vital dimension is truly knowing one’s spouse. Two people can support one another financially, cook meals for one another, do errands, and even raise children, but fall short of truly knowing one another. Something is desperately missing in this scenario and without the critical connection that comes through knowledge of one’s spouse’s likes and dislikes, their thoughts, dreams, aspirations, and values, the marriage is on the rocks. 

The same is true of our marriage with Hashem. We can, as it were, run errands for Hashem; dutifully perform each task written on the “Honey-Do” list—sit in the sukkah, eat the matzah, light the candles, put on the tefillin—without ever taking the time to get to know Him. The result is an underdeveloped marriage and a relationship that may well buckle under the strains and pressures that life will naturally place on it. 

It is no accident that from the very first Parsha of the Torah, the act of cohabitation is often referred to as “ידיעה”, or “knowing”. Knowledge and intimacy are inseparable. If we hope to come close to our Beloved, a knowledge of His beliefs, values, and perspectives on life are critical. It is a relationship with Hashem secured through Torah study and Torah knowledge that will stand the test of time and can secure the Jewish future even against the onslaught of an Egyptian exile. This was Yosef’s message to his father, and Yaakov’s message to the rest of his family in insisting that a yeshiva be founded before their descent to Egypt. 

A Rebbe or a Rabbi is a moreh derech—one who can help show the way. In keeping with the allegory of Shir HaShirim, a Rabbi is more of a marriage counselor than anything else. He can provide insights and instruction along the way, providing pointers and strategies for an effective relationship. But ultimately, it is the husband and wife who are responsible for their own marriage and it is they who must take the time to communicate and truly get to know and understand one another. 

This past week witnessed an event that could not serve as a more encouraging sign of Jews taking responsibility for effective communication with their Beloved. The Siyum HaShas was a spectacle of a Kiddush Hashem, as hundreds of thousands gathered to celebrate all those around the world who have committed to solidifying their relationship with Hashem through understanding and knowing Him, as best as they are able. 

Daf Yomi has emerged as a remarkable movement since its inception nearly one hundred years ago. Whether or not you get on board with the study of the daily daf, every one of us needs to passionately subscribe to the philosophy that stands behind the program: that Torah study is not only the purview of rabbis, but is something that must be committed to by every Jew interested in a sincere and meaningful relationship with our Beloved in Heaven.

The response to my students is a message that we all need to imbibe: Don’t learn Torah because you want to be a rabbi; learn Torah because you want to be a Jew.