The medrash tells us that Osnas, the daughter of Potiphar, who became the wife of Yosef, was really the daughter of Dinah and Shechem. How did this come about? The shevatim (tribes), believing that it was an embarrassment to the sons of Yaakov to have a daughter from Shechem, placed the newborn baby under a tree. To protect her, they put a necklace around her neck which explained that she was from the family of Yaakov, and anyone who helped her would be taken care of. A passerby noticed the baby, and Osnas eventually ended up in Egypt, where she was adopted by Potiphar.
When Yosef became the ruler in Egypt, all the girls, including Osnas, came to get a glance at the handsome new ruler and threw their jewelry into his carriage. Later that night, when Yosef saw the necklace with the message written on it, he found Osnas and made her his wife.
What a fascinating medrash! Here we have two people who were ostracized by their families and forced to navigate a foreign culture. And these two misfits become the ruling couple of one of the largest civilizations in history. How was this possible?
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Viktor Frankl, in his book, Man’s Search for Meaning, discusses how suffering in life is inevitable, but how we choose to perceive the suffering is in our hands. Frankl was trained as a psychiatrist before the war and worked as a psychiatrist in Vienna. He ended up in Auschwitz, where, like all the prisoners, he was stripped of every vestige of his identity: material goods, titles, even his name. He began to wonder what was left, what was the essence of a person.
He noticed how, in the concentration camps, some people gave up their will to live, while others fought with all their strength to come out alive. Some became animals and fought for every piece of bread, while others gave away their last piece of bread to help someone else. They held on to their humanity and were able to find meaning even in the darkest of places. Dr. Frankl pondered what could be the cause for these different reactions. It became clear to him, first, that there were only two types of people, decent ones and unprincipled ones, and they could be found among all classes and nations. Second, he concluded that those who had a reason to live – a beloved spouse, a child, a dream to fulfill – were better able to transcend their suffering. Those who had no reason to live gave up and died.
Researching this phenomenon after the war, the professor created a new form of therapy, which he called logotherapy. The word logos, in Greek, means “word,” “reason,” or “plan.” It is the divine reason in the cosmos, ordering it and giving it form and meaning. The therapy is based on the idea that in order to make it through the world, we have to find meaning and purpose in our lives – and in our suffering. Dr. Frankl explained that what differentiates the pain of childbirth from the pain of an illness is that one ends with the great gift of a child, while with the other has no obvious purpose.
To illustrate, Frankl tells a story: An older gentleman came to him for help. His wife had died the year before, and this man could not get over the loss. Dr. Frankl asked the man what would have happened had his death preceded his wife’s. The man said that it would have been horrible since they were married for 50 years and were completely dependent on each other, and she would not have been able to move on. Viktor Frankl turned to the man and exclaimed, “Look how much suffering you saved your wife from!” The man got up, shook his hand, and walked out.
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Yosef Hatzadik went through tremendous hardships. Between being abandoned by his brothers, getting sold into slavery, and ending up in prison, his suffering was more than most of us could bear. Yet, instead of being portrayed as a bitter person, we find that he was always upbeat. The Torah tells us that, while in prison, Yosef saw that the baker and butler looked depressed and asked them why they looked sad. Most people in prison don’t need a reason to be sad. Yet to Yosef Hatzadik, being sad was an anomaly.
Similarly, the gemara in Brachos says that R’ Yochanan would sit by the shaarei tevila for others to contemplate his beauty. When asked why he wasn’t worried about ayin hara (the evil eye), he said that he was descended from Yosef, and anyone who comes from Yosef does not have to worry about ayin hara. The mefarshim (commentators) explain that this is because the midda of Yosef was ayin tova (the good eye). He was able to see the positive in everything, and it was this trait that helped him overcome his suffering and brought him to great heights.
How is this possible? Why do some people fall apart when hardships happen to them, while others use them as an opportunity for growth? How does one find meaning in life when he or she is going through a challenging time and it seems like it’s out of one’s control?
The sefarim contrast the relationship between a husband and wife as opposed to that between siblings. The relationship between a husband and wife is compared to fire, while siblings are compared to water. Because siblings don’t get to choose each other, their love is unconditional, like water that is calm and constant. When it comes to a husband and wife, their love is completely conditional and, therefore, full of passion. I marry someone for a reason, and once that reason is not there, I may not love them anymore. Love which is unconditional is forever, but there is no passion, whereas love that is conditional is passionate.
What separates the two is the choice. When I chose to be with someone, my act of choosing generates meaning in my relationship, and that creates passion. Similarly, in life, when obstacles come our way, it is the ability to choose how we perceive them that is the key to unlocking the gift of empowerment. Are we just victims of circumstance, or is there a plan and purpose to why I am here?
When Yosef revealed himself to his brothers, he told them that they had not sent him there, rather, Hashem sent him as a messenger, to prepare them for galus (exile). This is amazing: Yosef understood that his mission was to prepare for his brothers, the very people who sold him. Yosef saw everything through the prism of empowerment. I am not a victim. There is purpose and meaning to why I am here. Yosef saw meaning and purpose in all his suffering.
What separates the people who grow in challenging times from those who fall apart is how they perceive their pain. If we realize that we are never victims – that we are always in the right place – then, not only will we not suffer; we will also be passionate about what we do. Ultimately, we can all be like Yosef, seeing challenges as an opportunity, or we can choose to be victims. The choice is ours.
