Mikeitz: Self-Deprivation in Solidarity With Others Who Are Suffering

Chazal learn from Yosef that it is prohibited to have marital relations during a famine. What is the nature of this prohibition? How should this be applied during the current Israel-Hamas war?

Dec 15, 2023

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Artwork: Adobe Firefly 2.0’s response to the prompt, “painting of a wealthy woman ignoring a poor homeless woman begging for food; biblical concept” (not my best work, but Shabbos starts in 80 minutes)

Mikeitz: Self-Deprivation in Solidarity With Others Who Are Suffering

Note: This week’s article deals with topics that have halachic ramifications. I am not a posek. No halacha l’maaseh (practical halachic) conclusions should be drawn from this article. Consult your own posek before making any halachic decisions.

This week’s parashah opens with Yosef’s interpretation of Paroh’s dreams. He informs Paroh that seven years of famine will follow the seven years of plenty. He advises Paroh about how to avert national catastrophe. Yosef is rewarded for his efforts: “Paroh called Yosef by the name Tzafenat Paneach and gave him Osenat, daughter of Poti-Phera, priest of On, as a wife” (Bereishis 41:45). The Torah informs us that “two sons were born to Yosef before the year of famine came” (ibid. 41:50). From here Chazal (Taanis 11a, also cited by Rashi on our pasuk) derive the halacha: “It is prohibited for a person to have marital relations in years of famine.”

The Baalei Tosafos (ibid. d"h assur) raise the following difficulty: What about Yocheved, the daughter of Levi, who was "born between the borders" of Egypt? She must have been conceived at a time of famine, since the famine is what prompted the children of Yaakov to descend to Egypt. Doesn’t this mean that Levi engaged in marital relations during the famine? The Baalei Tosafos answer: "according to everyone, [having marital relations during a famine] was only prohibited to someone who wanted to conduct himself with chasidus (extra-righteousness), and [that is why] Yosef didn't have marital relations – but other people (such as Levi) did.”

The Torah Temimah (Bereishis 41:50, note 8) objects to this explanation, then offers his own answer:

It is exceedingly difficult to say about Levi ben Yaakov that he conducted himself like one of the masses … [Rather,] in light of the words [of the Baalei Tosafos], it seems that, in truth, for a person who is burdened with the suffering of famine, it would be unreasonable to increase his suffering by forcing him to abstain from marital relations, for such abstinence is called inui (affliction). Rather, only a person for whom the famine poses no suffering and anxiety – such as those who are wealthy and those who have access to storehouses of grain, like Yosef – for them it is proper to join in with the suffering of the community in place of the suffering of the famine which they do not experience. According to this, the difficulty from Levi is resolved: since Yaakov and his household were burdened with suffering on account of the famine itself … they were not obligated at all to refrain from marital relations.[1]

According to the Torah Temimah, abstention from marital relations during a famine is not, lehavdil, like the Catholic customs of self-deprivation during Lent. It’s not about giving up a pleasure; rather, it’s about joining in with the suffering of the community. For this reason, if a person is already suffering on account of the famine itself, there is no need for him to increase his pain by abstaining from relations. Only those who are shielded from the pain of the famine should abstain from relations so that they can identify with the plight of their community.

As evidence for his theory, the Torah Temimah cites the next Gemara on the page, which states:

It was taught in a baraisa: When the Jews are steeped in suffering and one of them separates himself [from the community and doesn’t share in their suffering], the two ministering angels who accompany a person come and place their hands on his head and say: “This person who separated from the community will not see the consolation of the community.” (Alternative translation: “let him not see the consolation of the community.”)

On a simple level, Chazal are describing a psychosocial phenomenon. If other Jews are suffering and you go out of your way to break identification with them to avoid feeling the pain of their plight, then you will also be cutting yourself off from the joy, relief, and consolation of their deliverance. Psychological identification is a double-edged sword: the Jewish people experience highs and the lows, and to the extent that you dissolve your bond with other Jews in order to evade the lows, you’ll also be cutting yourself off from experiencing the highs. If you continue on this course, it may eventually cause you (or your offspring) to lose your Jewish identity entirely.

But I believe there is a more pertinent explanation of this baraisa which emerges from the Rambam. The Torah Temimah and the Baalei Tosafos both operate under the assumption that abstaining from marital relations during a famine is middas chasidus (extra-righteous conduct). This view is not shared by the Rambam. He codifies this as a uniform prohibition in the Laws of Fasts 3:8, as part of the procedure of fasting for a drought:

If these [initial fasts] pass without [our prayers] being answered, we minimize our commercial activities, construction projects associated with joy (e.g. those involving decorative patterns on the ceilings and walls), plantings associated with joy (e.g. myrtle trees and types of tents). We also minimize betrothals and marriages, unless one has not yet fulfilled the mitzvah of being fruitful and multiplying, and whoever has fulfilled the mitzvah of being fruitful and multiplying is prohibited to engage in marital relations during a time of famine. We reduce the exchange of greetings and Torah sages should not exchange greetings at all, but rather, [they should conduct themselves] as those who have been rejected and ostracized by God; when a common person greets them, they may return the greeting in a weak and solemn tone.

All the practices and restrictions in the Rambam’s Laws of Fasts are there for the sole purpose of promoting communal teshuvah, as he writes at the beginning of this section. The same is true of these mandated forms of self-deprivation: they are a means of facilitating teshuvah. Accordingly, we can explain the baraisa cited above literally: if you separate yourself from the community when they are doing teshuvah to save themselves from catastrophe, then you will not be saved with them. The Rambam codifies this in the Laws of Teshuvah 4:2:

There are five things that close the doors of teshuvah before those who do them: (1) one who separates himself from the community – since he will not be with them at a time when they do teshuvah, and he will not merit with them in the merits they produce.

For the past 70 days of the Israel-Hamas war, many of us have struggled with the question of whether it is appropriate to engage in pleasurable activities while our brothers and sisters in Israel are suffering. Should we cancel that vacation we had been planning for months? Should we attend our friend’s birthday party? Should we go to the movies? And are these decisions actually rooted in our practice of Judaism or do we just feel guilty?

There is no easy “one size fits all” answer to such questions. Even a posek would need to factor in many details about one’s personal circumstances before issuing a ruling. Nevertheless, I believe that the foregoing discussion sheds light on how to think about such decisions. Specifically, we should ask ourselves three questions:

If I choose to abstain from this enjoyment, am I merely depriving myself of a pleasure or am I doing this to strengthen my identification with the suffering of my fellow Jews?
If I choose to partake of this enjoyment, am I giving in to an underlying desire to isolate myself from the suffering of my fellow Jews, or am I still joining in with their suffering in other ways, directly or indirectly?
Either way, will my decision facilitate my doing teshuvah – and if not, how can I ensure that it does?

Our decisions may be impelled or fueled by guilt, but guilty feelings should not be the basis on which we make such decisions. Our decisions should be guided by the values of Torah within the framework of halacha. Always.

[1] Note that the Torah Temimah is not necessarily speaking about halacha l’maaseh. After citing the Beis Yosef, Taz, and Magen Avraham on Shulchan Aruch OC 574, mentioning that they struggled with our Gemara, he concludes by saying: “according to what I wrote, everything works out well and is clear; however, this is a davar chadash (innovation) which requires much analysis and study.” I take this to mean that he is hesitant about drawing practical conclusions from his innovative idea.

Have you struggled with questions of this nature? What criteria have you used to make decisions like these?

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