In My Own Name

Friday December 26, 2025/6 Tevet 5786/Shabbat Vayigash

אֲנִ֣י יוֹסֵ֔ף…אֲנִי֙ יוֹסֵ֣ף אֲחִיכֶ֔ם…כִּי־פִ֖י הַֽמְדַבֵּ֥ר אֲלֵיכֶֽם

I am Joseph…I am Joseph your brother…it is my mouth that speaks to you (Bereshit 45: 3-12)

Hevre/Friends,

While backpacking in China in the summer of 1988, my friend Paula and I found ourselves in a hotel lobby in Nanjing. No sooner had we entered when the manager, a Chinese man, made a beeline for us. With great excitement, and to our great surprise, he looked at us and asked, “Are you Jewish?” This was long before I had kids. My hair was lighter, and together with my blue eyes, I didn’t especially “look Jewish”; a concept which, in our increasingly diverse community, we know no longer makes sense. Paula had what was then considered a more “typical” semitic appearance. After we acknowledged that we were indeed Jews, the manager eagerly shared that his wife, a Chinese woman, was also Jewish; if I recall correctly, she was the child of a union between a European Jew who had fled the Shoah and a Chinese national. Many Jews escaped to China, including the family of my aunt who was born in Shanghai. It was an awkward exchange, but it left us feeling proud to have been identified as Jews.

I’ve often thought about this encounter; about what makes one recognizable as a Jew in the world. It’s no accident that the surge in violent antisemitic attacks have targeted Orthodox, especially Ultra-Orthodox, Jews. They are the most visible Jews in the world, wearing their Jewish identity for all to see - men in kippot, black hats, shtreimels, long black coats or bekeshes, beards and peyyos, tzitzit hanging out; women in modest dress wearing sheitels, tichels, shtipels or snoods.  In spite of our religious differences, those features are now reminders of our shared vulnerability. We, whose manner of dress and speech and whose engagement with the broader world often feel as if we blend in seamlessly with people around us, now fear for our safety as well.

As Dan Senor remarked in his “Call Me Back” podcast following the Bondi Beach massacre, regardless of your feelings about the work of Chabad, they consistently put themselves out there to publicly proclaim our collective Jewish pride. And they pay the price more often than any of us. For that we owe more than condolences; we owe humble gratitude.

Given the reality of today’s threatening streets, we can’t judge someone’s decision whether to wear a kippah or to cover it with a baseball cap; a visible Magen David or a concealed one. Andi and I have debated the safety of our large stars in some settings, and the importance of them in others. But, as my grandfather, Rabbi Mendell Lewittes, z”l, taught, this week’s portion of Vayigash invites us to think deeply about other ways we’re summoned to manifest our Jewishness in the world. 

As their dramatic sibling narrative unfolds, Joseph decides he can no longer keep his identity a secret and finally reveals himself to his brothers using language that offers powerful lessons about embracing our Jewish identity. He first says, אני יוסף -- I am Joseph. But it wasn’t enough to simply state his name; his brothers didn't respond. A Jewish name has to mean something concrete; it should be animated by meaningful Jewish self-awareness and visible Jewish behavior. The Talmud teaches:: 

שלשה סימנים יש באומה זו הרחמנים והביישנין וגומלי חסדים

There are three distinguishing marks of the Jewish people. They are merciful, they are modest, and they perform acts of lovingkindness.

To share your name, to say you’re a Jew, should identify you as a recognizable agent of Hesed/lovingkindness in the world; as someone who’s gracious and generous.

Joseph then draws closer, saying,  אני יוסף אחיכם –– I am Joseph your brother. Identifying oneself as a Jew means identifying as part of the Jewish family and feeling a unique connection and responsibility for one another. It means being able to tell one another’s stories, rise up to one another’s defense, provide for one another’s needs, and rejoice in one another’s achievements. While never to the exclusion of other people in the world, we should make the Jewish people central to our concern and attention.

Finally, Joseph offers a further insight into whom he is: כי פי המדבר אליכם - it is my mouth that speaks to you. Rashi brings the Midrashic comment that whereas previously Joseph spoke to his brothers through an interpreter, he now spoke to them in their common tongue, בלשון הקודש, in Hebrew.

To claim one’s Jewish identity also means to achieve a meaningful level of Jewish literacy. It means making time to learn Hebrew, the language that binds Jews across time and space. It means reciting blessings, performing rituals, joining prayers, and studying Jewish texts. It means articulating Jewish values and Jewish wisdom. It also means speaking Jewish words of comfort and compassion. Emphasizing the earlier part of the verse, “והנה עיניכם ראות/Now you can see for yourselves”, we learn that claiming our Jewish identity also means being present in the world in a way that makes our Judaism visible to others: Jewish books on our bookshelves; Shabbat candlesticks and menorahs on our mantle-pieces; mezuzot on our doorways; Jewish art on our walls; Jewish food in our kitchens prepared with concern for Jewish ethics and values. 

Head coverings and necklaces are meaningful expressions of Jewish identity. These others - compassion, empathy, rootedness - are equally, if not more, powerful. And in today’s menacing world, no less urgent.

With continued prayers for the return of the last murdered hostage, Ran Gvili, for the bereaved and the injured, and with blessings for a Shabbat Shalom,

Dini

Photo by Ronen Avisror