But conversely, with Yaakov Avinu having many sons, to love them must mean to know them. The Gemara tells us.
The Pasuk (verse) tells us something very interesting. It tells us that Yisrael ahav et Yosef mikol banav, that Yaakov loved Yosef from all his children. Why? Ki ben zekunim hu lo (for he is a son of his old age). Rashi gives many different reasons for what this ben zekunim (son of his old age) means. The Midrash gives reasons. The Gemara gives many different understandings of what made Yaakov love Yosef.
One of the things is that Yosef was very similar to Yaakov. He looked like Yaakov. His face looked like Yaakov. And the question we have to ask ourselves is, how shallow does that make Yaakov—that he loved the son who looked like him? Come on. If I loved the son who looked like me, what would that make my other children feel? Nothing, because I only have one son. So Baruch Hashem, they would not feel any jealousy. I think my daughters would be very upset if I thought they looked like me. That would be a very big problem. They'd much rather look like my wife.
So the point, my friends, has to be deeper than that. Our Rabbis tell us that Yaakov Avinu was able to teach Yosef all of the Torah that he learned in Shem Va'Ever. He was able to pass along all his life lessons to Yosef. And the question is, again: He looked like you; he had the same almond-shaped eyes, so therefore you decided to teach him more? He was Bar Chakim; he was wise. Well, maybe that's because you taught him more. Maybe the others would be as wise if you taught them the same thing you taught him. So this whole saga seems to be a little bit strange, a little bit difficult to understand. We have to try and understand what we're supposed to be learning here.
There's something here that really sparked my thinking about this message. That is, in some way, a little bit about this dedication that we have here today. On the sign, it says about Jonah Bibi, “To know him is to love him.” And first of all, that happens to be true. Jonah is a very lovable guy, a very special man, a very active participant in our Gemara class. He's always first and foremost to respond and do something in the community. He's right there, always in the mix, right away. He's very special. He's a wonderful member of the community.
But I want to share, my friends, that in truth, the idea “to know him is to love him” is true about everybody. The definition of love in Judaism comes from an understanding, an appreciation, and a dedicated decision to see a person in a certain light. Everybody in this world has their own imperfections. The people we love are the people whose imperfections we choose to overlook and whose good qualities we choose to focus on. But if you don't know someone, then you don't love them. And I know you think that's not the case.
I want to share a brief insight that I think is very powerful in the context of Yaakov and Yosef. Imagine that there's a friend you really, really love. Time goes on, and you find out that behind closed doors, he's not a stand-up gentleman. The guy is an abusive husband and father. You find out that the guy is a ganav (thief). He steals from everyone he can. You find out that while you thought he was trying to help you, the only thing he was trying to do was stab you in the back repeatedly. You find out all these things. My friends, I'm imagining that you would no longer want to be friends with a guy like that. Right? Could you imagine such a scenario? You see someone and recognize that the person is not who you thought he was. Is that a possibility?
Let me ask you: When I loved him as a friend yesterday, was that not real? Could one describe those feelings of affection? Were they not real? I felt them. I felt the closeness. In fact, in many ways, it was confusing and difficult to extricate myself. There are times when people let us down and we see their true colors. I don't mean that when someone lets you down, those are their true colors. A lot of times people say that, and I think it's incorrect. You're demanding a level of perfection that you don't demand from yourself. The fact that the guy didn't have his best day, the fact that he was selfish today—you don't know what else is going on in his life—that doesn't mean his negative colors are his true colors.
You see clearly that the whole time it was a scam, the whole time it wasn't real, the whole time they weren't on your side. My friends, does that mean the love wasn't real? I'd like to suggest that maybe the love was real, but it was focused on a person who didn't exist. The person you loved was the idea you had, the image you had of who that person was. And that person, you have found out, no longer exists.
To know someone is to love someone. And I'm sure his love for all of them was very strong. This is similar to the lesson we learned previously: you could love someone more and still have love for someone else. But Yaakov has a connection with Yosef that you can't compare to his connection with the other children. Part of the reason he has that connection with Yosef is that he identifies with Yosef. He understands Yosef. The deeper your understanding of someone, the deeper your capacity for love. If you don't get the other person, then you can try your hardest. But your love is as deep as your knowledge of that person. Is this clear?
That's why the Torah tells you, “You must love God.” You know what else the Torah tells us? You need to know God. You need to learn about who He is, what He does, how He acts, what He thinks is right, and what He thinks is wrong. To truly love God, you have to know Him. I'm struck by this all the time when people tell me, “You know, they have no practical religion in their life, but they love Hashem.” And you know what I want to say to them? “I'm sure you think you do. But you have no idea who He is. What do you know about Him? Is He Santa Claus? The Tooth Fairy? What is God? What does He mean to you? To us? What does He want from us?”
A person has an obligation to study, to understand what Emunah means. You trust in God? What are you trusting in? Can you imagine someone telling you, “Here, I have an insurance policy for you. Sign here.” You don't know who the insurer is. You don't know what they're like. You have no idea if you can rely on them. And yet you're going to make decisions based on the fact that you have insurance coverage? How could you have Emunah without knowledge of God? That's what the Pasuk tells us: this faith, this love of God, requires you to get to know Him.
So how does one get to know Him? How do you meet with God? How do you have coffee with Him? Whether or not the coffee cup looks like this one. How do you have coffee with God? My friends, the Rabbis tell us you study Torah. The study of Torah is the meeting of God. I want to share with you something I thought was really, really interesting. Just recently, a book came out about Edmund J. Safra, The Banker's Journey, written by Dan Gross. What's interesting to me is that Dan never met Edmund Safra. Never. How does one try to learn, understand, and meet someone they've never met? The answer is you read their writings. What are God's writings? The Torah. You read the things they did. That's recorded in the Torah. You study their practices, recorded in the Gemara.
You know what that's like? When someone sits down at a shiva (Jewish mourning period) and they say, “Tell me about your dad. Tell me about your mom. What were they like?” You know what the answer to that question is? Adonai, Adonai. “You want to know about my Hashem? Let me tell you about him. He is mercy. He shows compassion. When it's time to get angry, he waits a very long time before he exacts a punishment.” We have to get to know Hashem. We have to be with God. God is in my coffee. Rabbi Reuven has a series. We have to be able to do that in order to move forward.
Therefore, Yaakov Avinu has this deep connection with Yosef. They even undergo, in many ways, a similar thing. I want to point this out. I don't know if you've ever had this before: someone comes to tell you about a problem they've had, and you've had the same problem. At a young age, no one else understands them. Someone else also got sick at a young age. They feel an instant sense of kinship just because of their shared experience. Two people who lose a parent at a young age and grow up in a single-parent home feel an immediate sense of kinship because of their shared experience.
My friends, only Yosef out of all the brothers grew up as a brother who was hated by another brother. No one knows what that feels like. They share that pain. Only Yaakov, only Yosef understands it. And, my friends, I think there's something we can take away from this as well. I think it's bittersweet, but it also propels us.
God bless you all. You probably know your wives. You probably know your husbands. But one thing I notice very often is that parents love their children but don't know their children. And again, hand on my heart, I've worked with young people for a very long time. I have a lot of very well-meaning parents who have no clue who their children are. They love them to death, but what they love is not the child in front of them. It's a child that exists in their mind. They don't know the bravery this kid has. They don't know the struggle they're going through. Maybe because they've created a situation where the child doesn't feel they can come to the parent. Maybe because the parent has made the child feel that if they're struggling, that makes them weak: “Deal with it. You should be strong enough.” Maybe that's why. I don't know. Maybe because they didn't take the time. Maybe because they got busy with things, whether it was work or other issues. But they don't know their children.
My friends, it is impossible to give advice, to guide, or to love someone you don't know. And I'll tell you something crazy. There comes a point in your life where your child stops looking up to you. I don't mean they stop respecting you. But you stop being the parent who knows everything. They stop coming to you for that advice. They're figuring stuff out for themselves. There comes a point in time when they go off to yeshiva, to university. There comes a point in time when they go off to get married.
Recently, someone shared with me that they were at a wedding and a father said under the chuppah (wedding canopy) to his daughter, “You know, I wish I spent more time with you.” To me, those are maybe the most beautiful words, but also such sad, poignant words to be said after the fact. Now, I'm sure anyone who says that feels it with depth of emotion: “I wish I could spend more time with my daughter,” even after she's married, or with their son. But my friends, if your kids aren't married yet, or if they are, spend the time.
Recently, a man told me that he's spending time with a parent in the hospital. He's had to be in that hospital room for quite some time with his parent. I said to him, “Wow, it must be so difficult that you're there for weeks. You can't leave.” He said to me, “You know, Rabbi, it's a tremendous blessing in disguise.” I said, “Really?” He says, “You know, this time that I sat with my mother, I never knew her. I never knew her. We're talking about everything. There's nothing else to do. There's nowhere else to go. There's nothing else on the agenda.” Isn't that powerful?
Some people come to this realization, unfortunately, not when their parent is in the hospital at an advanced age. They come to this realization after everything is over. What a shame. I think that in Yaakov's experience, he has this deep connection with Yosef because he understands him. But in his experience, also, you know what comes after that deep knowledge? Yosef disappears from his life. And he misses out on 22 years. This child he saw walk out the door one day doesn't come back to him for 22 years, or two decades. The child he meets is literally on the other end of the spectrum. He's now a king. He's got a wife. He's got children. And he's missed all of that.
My friends, Yaakov has no choice, but every one of us—and everyone listening—you have a choice. We have phones. We have texts. We have time face to face. Ask questions you don't know the answer to. Pull the blanket off. Reveal a little. “Mom, Dad, why did you decide to get married to each other? What made you fall in love?” Not the story of how they met. I'm sure you know that already. “What was it about Dad that you really respected?” You probably didn't hear that. “What were the most difficult moments of your life? Mom, Dad, what was the hardest thing for you to overcome? What are you proudest of in your life for having achieved?” Ask questions you don't know the answers to. Meet them. Because to meet them is to love them.
Yaakov Avinu loves Yosef the most because he identifies with Yosef the most, because they're the same person. And I want to say this also to all the children out there who don't understand why Dad has a special connection with one of the brothers, or why Mom is closer with one of the sisters, or vice versa. Sometimes it's got nothing to do with how much they love you. And sometimes it's just that there's a commonality, a shared purpose, a shared workspace, a shared whatever circumstance that they didn't have with you. And the effort it takes to overcome that sometimes is a little too much. But that's not a qualitative call on whether or not you are worthy enough or as worthy. Hashem should bless us all to be able to make the effort to know people, to spend time, to unearth the gifts of their personality, and through that ultimately to develop a much deeper and greater sense of love for that person.