For the week of December 27, 2025 / 7 Tevet 5786

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Vayigash
Torah: Bereshit/Genesis 44:18 – 47:27
Haftarah: Ezekiel 37:15-28
Originally posted the week of December 15, 2018 / 7 Tevet 5779 (revised)

And he wept aloud, so that the Egyptians heard it, and the household of Pharaoh heard it.
(Bereshit/Genesis 45:2)

Sometime in my late teens, I stopped crying. That’s not to say that up until then, I was crying nonstop. I had lost the ability to cry. All children cry. It’s our automatic, God-given survival mechanism. As we get older, most of us learn to control the tears and express our needs and disappointments in other ways. In many cultures, males are discouraged from crying at all. “Big boys don’t cry,” we’re told; so we stop. But that’s not why I did. It’s not as if my parents taught me such a thing. I remember seeing my father cry on more than one occasion, and there was no shame in that. Despite that, I distinctly remember that by the time I was eighteen years old, I could feel a constant need to cry lodged in my throat. It was awful.

My life was awful. My father had abandoned my mother and me a few years before. By this time, my mother was not well enough to work, forcing us to turn to government assistance. I had no direction in life. I was very superstitious. I thought success was measured by degrees of pleasure. And I had developed an inordinate fear of death.

Everything about my life was out of sorts. I had no clear vision of what it should or could be. Wrapped in a shroud of confusion and fear, I was stuck just like the lump in my throat. Then, a few days before my nineteenth birthday, my life was transformed by my first encounter with the truth of Yeshua as Messiah. As I reached out to God that day, I had no idea I was embarking on an amazing Great Adventure. But no tears, just smiles.

In those early months of my newfound faith, I experienced a happiness I had never dreamt of. I was ecstatic, and people could see it all over me. The next few months were exhilarating despite the new tensions and relationship strains from the unusual path I was on. Still, no tears.

A year after coming to faith, I left home for biblical studies. Leaving home brought with it renewed anxiety as I began to face some of my entrenched insecurities and fears. As I woke up one morning in my dorm room, I was fiercely struggling with I don’t really know what. I was not doing well and didn’t know what to do. I was alone in my room. My roommate had a small (for those days) stereo and a few Gospel albums. I didn’t listen to a lot of music back then, since music had been one of my gods during my Bad Old Days. I don’t know why I put the album on. Then something happened as the singing started. The faucet opened! I was shocked, as for the first time in I don’t know how long, I cried and cried. It felt so good! And while the lump would return from time to time, eventually so would the tears, as God has allowed me to express myself in this way.

It’s hard to say for sure what it was about that moment that released all that pent-up emotion. I can guess, because I have had similar experiences since. It hasn’t always been with a song, but when I get a glimpse of the essence of life’s reality, it’s as if in that moment I see things as they really are, that amidst the confusion and chaos of my life, God really is my security, and everything will be okay after all. When that truth hits me, I am undone as all the tension of the insecurity I feel from the instability and pressures around me is released in an emotional torrent.

Perhaps that is something akin to what Joseph experienced when he was finally reconciled with his brothers. We can’t overestimate the emotional turmoil he must have borne all those years. We shouldn’t assume his rise to power in Egypt completely soothed the confusion, anger, and sadness he carried for so long. The emotions must have built to volcanic proportions during the process of revealing himself. For his own reasons, he shrewdly dealt with his brothers as they travelled back and forth to Egypt for food, all the while not knowing he was their brother. Then, when he deemed the time was right, all that pent-up emotion flowed so freely that everyone around knew he was weeping.

I am aware that there are many people, men included, who cry like freely flowing fountains. If that’s you, then you probably have no trouble relating to Joseph. You might be crying right now. Then there are the others. Maybe you have an incessant lump in your throat, as I had. Perhaps you have buried your emotions for so long that you can’t feel them anymore. I don’t know what it will take to release all you have stuffed inside. But I wanted to tell you: it’s alright to cry.

Scriptures taken from the English Standard Version

For the week of December 20, 2025 / 30 Kislev 5786

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Miketz, Hanukkah, & Rosh Hodesh
Torah: Bereshit/Genesis 41:1 – 44:17; B’midbar/Numbers 28:9–15, 7:42–53
Haftarah: Zechariah: 2:14 – 4:7 (English: 2:10 – 4:7)

And Pharaoh said to his servants, “Can we find a man like this, in whom is the Spirit of God?” (Bereshit/Genesis 41:38)

The dominant Hanukkah theme is light (Hanukkah this year occurs from Sunday evening, December 14, through December 22). It might surprise you to learn that the light theme doesn’t originate from the legend of the miraculous provision of oil, which likely didn’t happen, but from the altar rededication celebration that was patterned after the eight-day feast of Sukkot (English: Booths), which probably hadn’t happened that year due to the desecration of the Temple by the pagan oppressors. By that time, kindling great lights in Jerusalem had become part of the Sukkot observance. Referencing Hanukkah as the “Festival of Lights” is first recorded by the Jewish historian Josephus in the first century CE.

Despite the lack of evidence for the oil miracle, it’s fitting that light is still a central theme of Hanukkah. Dark assimilating forces were having their way in Israel at that time. Throughout history, despite our supposed disdain for tyrannical despots, people have welcomed various forms of empire-building. We prefer to go along with the latest popular thing, rather than fully embrace our unique ethnic and individual diversity in the way God designed us.

In contrast to the prevailing mood of their day, the Maccabees bravely shone the light of God, leading the people of Israel back to their unique, God-given destiny to stand out as lights in a dark world.

According to this week’s parsha (weekly Torah reading), Joseph, too, was such a light. After enduring years of darkness due to his brothers’ jealous betrayal, he became an illuminating force not only in Egypt but also throughout the region, including to his own extended family, who had been destined to be the light of the world. His willingness to be used by God in interpreting Pharaoh’s dreams and his graciousness in arranging for the migration of his clan to Egypt were enormous blessings.

The brilliance of God’s light through Joseph was so great that Pharaoh, who didn’t know the God of Israel, recognized it. But what was it that he recognized? He indeed encountered the true light of the true God. He said to his servants, “Can we find a man like this, in whom is the Spirit of God?” (Bereshit/Genesis 41:38). Yet, as an Egyptian king, his allegiance was to other gods, false gods. When most of us read “God” here, I am guessing that we assume he is referring to the Bible God, the only God, the creator God, Joseph’s God, the God of Israel. But as an Egyptian king, he wouldn’t have had such an understanding. The Hebrew word translated as “God” here is elohim, which is actually a generic term used for both the one and only God and other gods as well. To Pharaoh, divine power was at work in Joseph, expressing itself in a most effective way.

Even though Pharaoh was not thinking of God the way the Scriptures assert, almost all English translations represent elohim here as “God,” with a capital “G,” which is the conventional way English expresses “the true God.” The only exception I can find so far is in the New American Standard family of translations that use “divine spirit” (all in lower case), which is much closer to Pharaoh’s intent.

While Pharaoh’s theology was ill-informed, he wasn’t entirely wrong. Even though he didn’t know the true God, Joseph’s God, he recognized the illuminating power of genuine prophetic insight. While Pharaoh didn’t fully understand the true source of light at work through Joseph, the divine power he recognized was that of the only true God. This might explain why so many English translations use “God” with a capital “G.”

However, his reference to elohim was not the true elohim. Pharaoh’s valid recognition of the reality of God in this case doesn’t in any way authenticate his spirituality. Since the one true God, the God of Israel, is also the universal God, any encounter with his reality is legitimate, even though a failure to associate his power with his person would skew an accurate perception of his identity. This is all to say that the use of the capital “G” is misleading. Pharoah did recognize the true divine power of the one and only God, but didn’t understand him as such.

Pharaoh’s inability to recognize the God of Israel would one day lead Israel into the darkness of bondage in Egypt until the light of God’s deliverance through Moses would dawn. As we celebrate Hanukkah this year, let us not only remember the miraculous victory of the Maccabees but also the call to illuminate the darkness around us with the brilliance of the truth of God’s Word.

All scriptures, English Standard Version (ESV) of the Bible

For the week of December 13, 2025 / 23 Kislev 5786

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Vayeshev
Torah: Bereshit/Genesis 37:1-40:23
Haftarah: Amos 2:6-3:8
Originally posted the week of December 24, 2016 / 24 Kislev 5777 (updated)

The keeper of the prison paid no attention to anything that was in Joseph’s charge, because the LORD was with him. And whatever he did, the LORD made it succeed. (Bereshit/Genesis 39:23)

The story of Joseph is full of twists and turns. Father’s favorite, dreams of supposed grandeur, facing murderous hatred from his brothers, sold into slavery instead of being killed, father Jacob deceived by brothers as to Joseph’s fate (not sure if Jacob ever believed them), greatly respected and trusted by master, remains faithful to God in the face of master’s wife’s seduction, framed by master’s wife resulting in imprisonment, put in charge of prisoners, accurately interprets two prisoners’ dreams, later interprets Pharaoh’s dreams resulting in release and being made second-in-command over Egypt, brothers come to buy food from Joseph due to predicted famine, eventually reconciles with his brothers and settles his whole clan in Egypt, remains free from bitterness throughout.

There is one twist in the story that is easy to miss, however. It has to do with Potiphar, Joseph’s Egyptian master, the husband of the seductress. It strikes me as strange that Joseph wasn’t executed for his alleged crime. It is doubtful that the ancient Egyptian legal system would limit the penalty for attempted rape by a slave to imprisonment. When Potiphar heard the accusation against Joseph, we read “his anger was kindled” (39:19). But why? And with whom was he angry? We reasonably assume that he was furious at Joseph for attempted rape, but if his anger were directed at Joseph, then, as I mentioned, one would think he would have been executed, which he wasn’t. Besides that, it doesn’t seem to be too long that we find Joseph having favor with the keeper of the prison, who put him in charge of the other prisoners (39:21-23). But who was the keeper of the prison? Later in the story, when we are introduced to fellow prisoners (Pharaoh’s baker and cupbearer), whose dreams eventually lead to Joseph’s being revealed to Pharaoh, we are told that the prison was in the house of the captain of the guard. It was the captain of the guard who put Joseph in charge (40:3-4). And the captain of the guard is no other than Potiphar (37:36; 39:1)!

Perhaps Potiphar had mercy on Joseph because he thought so highly of him. That certainly had been the case, but why would he continue to have such high regard for a slave who so abused his master’s trust by doing one of the two things expressly forbidden to him (39:6, 9)? We cannot say absolutely for sure, because the Scripture doesn’t spell it out for us, but I propose that Potiphar knew his wife well enough to know that Joseph was indeed innocent.

But if that’s the case, then why did he not let him off the hook? My guess is there’s no way Potiphar could take sides against his wife, and especially not on behalf of a slave. So, the best he could come up with was imprisonment in his own dungeon, while giving Joseph as much freedom and responsibility in that horrible environment as he could.

If anyone knew that life isn’t fair, it was Joseph. He didn’t do anything to deserve such treatment, but suffered yet again—this time due to his master’s dysfunctional family. It could have been worse had he been executed—not only for him (though he may have wished for death on more than one occasion)—but for his family of origin, whom he would one day save, not to mention that the Plan of God for the entire world was riding on his prophesied destiny.

You might wonder if it was really necessary for Joseph’s life to take all these twists and turns. Could not God have preserved the fledgling nation of Israel without all this intrigue and suffering? Did Jacob’s family really have to move to Egypt? If so, was there no other way to get them there? Did Joseph have to endure hateful jealousy, slavery, wrongful accusation, and confinement in a dungeon? Was there no other way to install him as Prime Minister in Egypt? The more I look at it, I don’t think so. Each and every twist and turn appears to contribute something essential to the outcome. I am not saying that every single thing that happened to Joseph absolutely had to happen in exactly that way. But certainly, every difficult, confusing, painful, and unjust situation and circumstance was not wasted.

It’s the same for you and me. Life can be really crazy at times. Disappointing. Frustrating. Discouraging. But God knows what he is doing. And however he does it, whether by orchestrating every plot twist or walking with us around every turn, he has promised his children that he would be with us (see Matthew 28:20) and work everything out for our good (Romans 8:28). He knows what he is doing!

All scriptures, English Standard Version (ESV) of the Bible

For the week of December 6, 2025 / 16 Kislev 5786

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Vayishlach
Torah: Bereshit/Genesis 32:4 – 36:43 (English: 32:3 – 36:43)
Haftarah: Hosea 11:7 – 12:12

And Jacob said, “O God of my father Abraham and God of my father Isaac, O LORD who said to me, ‘Return to your country and to your kindred, that I may do you good,’ I am not worthy of the least of all the deeds of steadfast love and all the faithfulness that you have shown to your servant, for with only my staff I crossed this Jordan, and now I have become two camps. Please deliver me from the hand of my brother, from the hand of Esau, for I fear him, that he may come and attack me, the mothers with the children. But you said, ‘I will surely do you good, and make your offspring as the sand of the sea, which cannot be numbered for multitude.’” (Bereshit/Genesis 32:10–13; English 32:9–12)

I would guess that, encountering this week’s title, “Blessed Fear,” apart from the accompanying verses, many biblically minded people would immediately think of Mishlie/Proverbs 1:7: “The fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge” or 9:10: “The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom.” We don’t usually think of fear as a blessed thing, though we’re aware of the benefit of what we might call “healthy fear,” the emotion which, when heeded effectively, prevents us from unnecessary harm. That’s why most of us have learned not to play with matches, for example. But blessed fear? This is where the verses in Mishlei prove helpful. This is similar to healthy fear, for it’s this kind of fear that helps us not to treat God lightly and to show him appropriate respect.

However, this is not the type of fear I am talking about here. In this week’s parsha (weekly Torah reading portion), Jacob is returning to the Promised Land after about twenty years of living in Mesopotamia, where his mother was from. He had run away after tricking his father, Isaac, in order to acquire the blessing that normally would have been given to the firstborn, his twin brother Esau. This infuriated his brother, who vowed to kill him. After building a sizeable family and acquiring much livestock, he fell out of favor with his father-in-law, Laban. In the midst of this challenging situation, God called him back to Canaan. And so, he went, along with his wives, children, and livestock (see Bereshit/Genesis 31:1–3). On the way, he got word that Esau was heading his way with four hundred men. This is what led him to pray the prayer I quoted at the beginning. Jacob’s motive for praying such a prayer is stated in the request he makes, “Please deliver me from the hand of my brother, from the hand of Esau, for I fear him” (Bereshit/Genesis 32:12; English 32:9–11).

This is not Jacob’s first recorded interaction with God, but it is his first direct request, a request that results in one of the most dramatic, powerful, life-changing, and instructive encounters with God in all of Scripture, when he wrestles with God. It is this encounter that fundamentally transforms Jacob, and God changes his name to “Israel” (see Bereshit/Genesis 32:29; English 32:28). I don’t know whether it’s correct to say that Jacob’s transformation depended on his request, but his request did lead to this significant biblical and historical development.

But what was it that prompted his request? Fear. Fear isn’t exactly the most impressive emotion. We don’t like being afraid, and we don’t like it when we see it in others. We might empathize with others when they are afraid, but still, we regard it as a weakness. And much of the time it is. But it can also be a blessing.

Jacob was a brilliant strategist. He knew what he wanted and knew how to get it—until he didn’t. After many years of getting the upper hand in many situations, he had exhausted all his personal resources, and he was terrified. Yet, that wasn’t the end of the story. Despite his being in a most desperate situation, or should I say, because he was in a most desperate situation, he turned to the only one who was able to help him. He called out to God, who heard his prayer, and came through in a most remarkable way. His fear drove him to God.

It’s in cases such as this that fear can be a tool that reminds us of our need for God. We are afraid, because we rely on ourselves or on things that are insufficient for the challenges at hand. But if we use fear to sound the alarm against self-reliance and as a call for seeking the God of Israel, the result will be blessing.

Scriptures taken from the English Standard Version