Parshat Vayeshev5 min read

Joseph the Leaping Man Looked at the Bear's Teeth

Rabbi Berekhya calls Joseph a man who leaped over obstacles. His proof is in the baker's dream -- Joseph read the truth honestly even when it meant death.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. What the Word Matzliaḥ Actually Meant
  2. The She-Bear in the Street
  3. The Cupbearer's Dream Read True
  4. The Baker's Dream Read to Its End

What the Word Matzliaḥ Actually Meant

The Torah says Joseph was matzliaḥ in everything he did. Successful, prospering, moving forward -- the word resists any single translation. Rabbi Berekhya, one of the Palestinian sages whose name appears repeatedly in the midrashim of the third and fourth centuries, heard inside it something more physical and more specific. His proof came from Second Samuel 19:18, where the same root describes people crossing the Jordan ahead of the king. They did not walk across. They went over the water ahead of him, the root carrying the body up and across the obstacle rather than around it. The root is motion. The meaning is a leaping over.

Joseph was not merely fortunate. He was a leaping man. He encountered obstacles in the way that others encountered them, the same pit, the same chains, the same closed doors, but he cleared them where others were stopped. Where another man saw a wall, Joseph saw the height of the wall and the place to put his feet.

The She-Bear in the Street

Rabbi Berekhya illustrated this with an image that has no parallel in midrashic literature. Imagine a she-bear standing in the middle of a street, adorned with gems and precious stones. The stones are fixed into her hide, catching the light, and the crowd gathers around her. Everyone wants the gems. Anyone who can jump onto the bear can take them. There is a commotion of calculation: how do I get close enough, how do I get on it, how do I take what is on it? Hands reach and pull back. Feet shift forward and stop.

A clever man stands in the crowd and watches. While everyone else is looking at the gems, he says: you are looking at what is on the bear. I am looking at the bear's teeth. The bear can leap. Do not forget what it is. Do not forget what it can do to you. He is greater than the bear -- meaning Joseph was greater than every obstacle he faced -- and he knows to watch the teeth.

Potiphar's wife was the bear in this reading. Everyone else in the household was calculating what she could give them, the favor, the standing, the comfort that came from her hand. Joseph looked at what she actually was and what the situation would cost. He saw the gems and behind the gems the mouth that could close on him, and he stepped back from both.

The Cupbearer's Dream Read True

Joseph's clarity appears again in the prison dreams. The cupbearer's dream came first, a vine with three branches budding and ripening into Pharaoh's cup, and Joseph read it well: within three days, Pharaoh will restore you to your position, and the cup will sit in his hand again as it did before. He read the good news without hesitation and without flattery, naming the three days and the restoration exactly as the branches showed them. He saw what was in front of him and he said it plainly.

The Baker's Dream Read to Its End

Then the baker told his dream, having heard the favorable interpretation the cupbearer received. He told it hoping for the same good news, three baskets on his head as the cupbearer had three branches, and he waited for the matching answer. Joseph read the baker's dream with the same clarity he had given the cupbearer. Within three days, Pharaoh will lift up your head from upon you and hang you on a tree, and the birds will eat your flesh from upon you.

The dream did not give the baker good news, and Joseph did not soften the reading to match the man's hope. The man leaping over obstacles was also the man who could read a dream to its end without flinching from what the end was. The she-bear's teeth, in this reading, were the truth of a dream that led to an execution. The birds were already in the picture the dream had drawn. Joseph looked at them directly and named them.

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From the tradition

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The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Bereshit Rabbah 86:4Bereshit Rabbah

(Genesis 39:2) tells us, “The Lord was with Joseph, and he was a successful man, and he was in the house of his master, the Egyptian.” But Bereshit Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic homilies on the Book of Genesis, asks a pointed question: Was God only with Joseph? What about his brothers?

Rabbi Yudan uses a vivid analogy to explain. Imagine a caravan driver with twelve animals, each laden with precious wine. One of these animals wanders into an idolater’s shop. Naturally, the driver would focus all his attention on retrieving that one stray, wouldn't he? He’d leave the other eleven momentarily. Why? Because the wine carried by the others was safe in the public domain. He wasn't worried it would become yayin nesekh (יין נסך), wine used as a libation to an idol, and therefore forbidden. the eleven were safe, mature, and together. But the one? It was vulnerable. Similarly, Joseph's brothers were adults, under their father's protection. Joseph, however, was young, alone, and in a foreign land. That’s why, the Rabbis explain, “the Lord was with Joseph.” It wasn't that God abandoned the others; it’s that Joseph, in his vulnerable state, required special attention.

Then the verse goes on: “He was a successful [matzliaḥ] man.” Rabbi Berekhya interprets matzliaḥ not just as successful, but as "a leaping man." Someone capable of overcoming obstacles. He connects it to the verse in II (Samuel 19:18), "They crossed [vetzalḥu] the Jordan before the king." Joseph was able to leap over challenges, to persevere where others might stumble.

Rabbi Berekhya doesn't stop there. He offers another striking analogy. Picture a she-bear, adorned with jewels and precious stones, standing in the street. People are clamoring to jump on it, hoping to seize the treasure. But a clever man holds back. "You are looking at what is on it," he says, "I am looking at its teeth."

What’s the message? Joseph, like that clever man, recognized the danger lurking beneath the surface. He understood the perilous situation with Potiphar's wife and sought to distance himself. He saw beyond the immediate temptation, the glittering surface, to the potential consequences.

Rabbi Berekhya concludes with a powerful statement: "All the power of that she-bear is in that it is able to jump, and you are greater than it." Even though Potiphar’s wife expended great effort to entice Joseph, he withstood her advances. He was able to leap higher, further, and with greater strength of character.

The story of Joseph isn't just a historical narrative; it's a timeless lesson. It reminds us that even in moments of isolation and temptation, the Divine presence can be with us, guiding and strengthening us. It challenges us to look beyond immediate gratification and to cultivate the ability to "leap" over obstacles with integrity and wisdom. And it reassures us that even when we feel alone, we are not forgotten. We, too, can find the strength to overcome.

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Bereshit Rabbah 88:6Bereshit Rabbah

Our story comes from Bereshit Rabbah (Genesis Rabbah), a classical Rabbinic text that intricately interprets the Book of Genesis.

The chief baker, seeing Joseph's successful interpretation of the butler's dream, pipes up: “I too, in my dream, behold, three wicker baskets were on my head! And in the uppermost basket there was all manner of food for Pharaoh, baked products, and the birds were eating them from the basket above my head” (Genesis 40:16-17).

Not exactly a picnic. Joseph, with a heavy heart, delivers the interpretation: “The three baskets are three days. In three more days Pharaoh shall lift your head from upon you, and shall hang you on a tree, and the birds shall eat your flesh from upon you” (Genesis 40:18-19). Ouch.

The Rabbis, in Bereshit Rabbah 88, don't just leave it at that. They unpack this grim dream with layers of meaning.

Rav Ḥama points out a fascinating linguistic connection: The baker's phrase, "I too [af]…" echoes a pattern. He says that the word af, אף in Hebrew, is associated with four individuals or groups who began with this word and were ultimately consumed by wrath. These are: the serpent in the Garden of Eden, the chief baker, the rebellious congregation of Korah, and the wicked Haman from the Book of Esther. Bereshit Rabbah 19:2 elaborates on this connection, showing how a seemingly simple word can foreshadow a tragic end.

But the symbolism goes deeper. The Rabbis see the "three wicker baskets" as representing the first three of the four kingdoms that would eventually subjugate Israel: Babylon, Media, and Greece. The "uppermost basket," according to this interpretation, symbolizes the fourth kingdom: Rome. This kingdom, it says, imposed heavy taxes upon all the nations of the world.

And the birds eating the baked goods? The Rabbis interpret this to mean that after the uppermost kingdom consumed its fill, they turned to devour the lower ones. It's a stark image of power and oppression.

Joseph, knowing the gravity of this vision, tells the baker that since he has brought him bad tidings with his dream, Joseph, in turn, will give him bad tidings of his own. "In three more days..."

The narrative then moves swiftly to the fulfillment of these prophecies: “It was on the third day, Pharaoh's birthday, he made a feast for all his servants and raised the head of the chief butler and the head of the chief baker among his servants” (Genesis 40:20). The butler is restored, the baker is hanged, exactly as Joseph had foretold.

The final verse, “He made a feast…he restored the chief butler…and…the chief baker” (Genesis 40:22), serves as a poignant reminder: what was said to each of them came to pass.

So, what are we to make of all this? It’s a bleak story, no doubt. But perhaps it's a reminder that even in the darkest of times, words have power, dreams hold meaning, and the echoes of the past can resonate in the present. And maybe, just maybe, it's a call to be mindful of the narratives we create and the interpretations we choose to embrace.

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