12 Dec WE DON’T FORGET

“V’lo zochar sar hamashkim es Yosef,
va’yishkocheihu, And the chief wine butler
didn’t remember Yosef, and he forgot him”
(Bereishis 40:23)
The closing words of last week’s parsha,
Vayeishev. Words that seem redundant. Didn’t
remember… forgot. What is the message?
Yosef showed care and concern for his fellow
prisoners, the chief wine butler, and the chief
baker. He asks them, “Why are your faces so
sad today?” Even in the darkest of places,
where one may understandably become
absorbed with his own problems, Yosef turned
his eyes and heart towards others.
Yosef listens to them describe their disturbing
dreams, and interprets them correctly. When
the wine butler is released from prison, Yosef
asks that he please remember him.
Va’yishkocheihu, and he forgot. Not only did
the wine butler not remember, but he forgot. A
conscious decision to forget Yosef. It wasn’t
an absent-minded lapse of memory, but a
thought-out intentional forgetting. Not
wanting to acknowledge the good Yosef did

for him, not wanting to be indebted to the Jew
in prison.
Week after week, since the war began, it
amazes me how the parsha reflects what is
happening in Israel.
Just as the wine butler did not want to
remember Yosef, nations of the world don’t
want to acknowledge Israel’s right to defend
itself and its people, even its right to exist.
I think of Turkey, whose president,
Tayyip Erdoğan, called Israel a terrorist state,
guilty of fascism, while at the same time
defended the Hamas “liberation fighters”. He
received cheers and a standing ovation when
he proclaimed “Israel, your end is near”.
Moreover, an unbelievable 1.5 million
attended an anti-Israel march in Istanbul.
Less than a year ago, in February 2023,
Turkey suffered a devastating earthquake.
Without any hesitation, Israel deployed
hundreds of specially trained search and
rescue, disaster relief and humanitarian aid
workers, sent more than 15 cargo planes with
hundreds of tons of humanitarian aid and set
up a field hospital. As a result of its efforts,
hundreds – if not thousands – of Turkish lives
were saved, with countless others given

proper medical attention.
Va’yishkocheihu. How easy, even
convenient, it is to “forget” the
good done. How quick it is to turn
the page and join the mob mentality
when it suits your political agenda.
We have all heard the IDF
spokespeople say “We are in a
difficult war…. a war we didn’t ask
for”. I think of these words, and I
think of Yosef’s life. A life of pain
and hardship, difficulties he didn’t
ask for.
Yosef didn’t ask to lose his mother at a young
age. He didn’t ask to be the subject of his
brothers’ bullying. He didn’t ask to be thrown
into a pit filled with snakes and scorpions, or
to be sold to a caravan of merchants. He didn’t
ask to become separated from his father, and
all the Torah which they studied together. He
didn’t ask to become a slave in the house of
Potiphar, and end up being falsely accused of
abusing his wife. And, he didn’t ask to
languish in a dark, dreary dungeon-like prison.
This week, we read Parshas Mikeitz. Mikeitz,
meaning the end. The end of Yosef’s struggles.
The end of his difficult journey. Despite all he
went through, Yosef never asked where is
G-d. He had the emunah and bitachon that
HaShem did not forget him. That He was
with him at all times.
“And HaShem was with Yosef, and he was
an “Ish matzliach, a successful person.”
(Ibid. 39:2)
We tend to measure success in terms of a
power position, worldly possessions, or
trophy family. The Sefas Emes teaches
otherwise. Hatzlacha, true success, is
measured by how one deals with his life
circumstances. Yosef endured many trials
and tribulations, yet emerged a “matzliach,
a success”.
Reb Meilech Biderman points out that the
word hatzlacha begins and ends with the
letter “hei”, symbolizing HaShem’s name.
The middle three letters are tzadi, lamed,
and ches. By rearranging these letters, we
have the word lachatz, meaning pressure.
The message is clear. Surround yourself
with hei, HaShem, and instead of lachatz,
pressure, you will find hatzlacha, success.
Precisely what Yosef did.
Pharaoh had a dream that gave him no
peace, no rest. A nightmare of a dream. He
sees seven thin, sickly cows devour seven
healthy, robust cows. Pharaoh wakes with a
start, and then falls back asleep. He dreams
again. Seven thin, dried out ears of corn
swallow seven full ears. Frightened to the
core, he calls upon wizards of black magic,
to find an explanation. None were able to

interpret the dreams to his liking.
Enter the wine butler. Thinking that suggesting
the name of a possible “dream interpreter”
would win him favor in Pharaoh’s eyes, he
now recalls Yosef. But even then, he belittled
and disparaged him. The butler describes
Yosef as “na’ar”, young, which Rashi explains
as “shoteh” – foolish, “Ivri”, Jewish – not one
of us, “ehved”, a slave – from a lowly part of
society. Words meant to sting.
Pharaoh relates his dream, and Yosef prefaces
his words by saying, “bil’odoi”, It’s beyond
me, “Elokim ya’ahneh”, the answer will come
from HaShem. (Ibid. 41:16)
Pharaoh was not a believer in monotheism.
Yet, Yosef fearlessly proclaimed that it is all
from HaShem. He wasn’t concerned about
being politically correct, but did what was
right for him as a Jew.
Yosef’s journey is coming full circle. Mikeitz,
the beginning of the end. While Yosef didn’t
know HaShem’s timing, throughout his
journey, from “the pit to the palace”, his faith
never dimmed, never wavered. A faith that
earned him the title Yosef HaTzaddik, a
righteous man walking with HaShem, no
matter where life took him.
My husband and I were fortunate to join my
mother, the Rebbetzin a”h, on one the Hineni
trips to Eastern Europe. We visited the Hidden
Shul of Theresienstadt, a Nazi concentration
camp. Like Yosef in prison, no matter how
difficult, how depressing life in Theresienstadt
was, the Jewish people didn’t give up their
hope and belief. They built an underground
shul, and Reb Asher Berlinger, one of its
inmates, inscribed various Hebrew prayers
upon the walls, including “U’vchol zos,
Shimcha lo sha’chachnu, But despite all of
this, we have not forgotten Your name. We
beg You, not to forget us.”
From the dungeons of Egypt to an underground
concentration camp shul, to the tunnels of
Gaza, while we may not understand all of
HaShem’s ways, our faith remains strong and
steadfast.
Va’yishkocheihu. The nations of the world
may forget us. But Am Yisroel never forgets.
We remember our people and our G-d.