The Torah of Goshen

Finding Joy in Volatility

[Jacob] had sent Judah ahead of him to Joseph, to make advance preparations in Goshen. (Genesis 46:28)

AHEAD OF HIM…to establish for him a House of Study from which Teaching (Torah) might go forth (Rashi on Genesis 46:28).

Then Judah approached (vayigash) him and said, “Please, my lord, let your servant appeal to my lord, and do not be impatient with your servant, you who are the equal of Pharaoh. (Genesis 44:18)

Joseph's family settles in Goshen (g-sh-n), a place that carries within its very name a profound dialectic. On one level, it suggests material abundance - linguistically connected to geshem (rain) and later abstracted into gashmiut (materiality). Yet it contains the same letters as vayigash, that evocative word of approach we encountered earlier. Goshen thus emerges as both haven and frontier, the site of deterritorialization even as it promises stability.

Consider the phenomenology of approach itself - one does not approach the familiar but the strange, not the certain but the uncertain, not safety but that which requires bridging. The word gesher (bridge) echoes in both Goshen and vayigash, suggesting that this choicest land is always already a space of crossing over, of encounter with alterity.

When Jacob sends Judah ahead l'horot l'fanav, Rashi's reading of this as establishing a yeshiva becomes more than mere commentary. Torah here emerges as a technology for dwelling in liminality, for approaching the Other without dissolution of the self. Just as Judah mastered the art of drawing near to that which is difficult, the yeshiva in Goshen teaches us how to inhabit the space between infinite and finite, between promised land and the place of narrowness (meitzarim). Obviously, Torah study is an anachronism given the Torah had yet to be given. But let’s consider Torah in the broadest sense, here, as a kind of intimacy with the divine, elucidated via conversation and approach (goshen).

This is why Goshen cannot simply be haven. Even as Jacob finds peace here in his final years, he insists his bones return home. Even as Joseph rises to power, his remains will not rest in this land. They teach us that to dwell in Goshen - that is, to live in the space of approach - requires both the courage to draw near and the wisdom to maintain distance. The Torah becomes not a fortress against Egypt but a light by which we might navigate this essential tension.

It is said that a four-year old Tzemach Zedek once asked the Alter Rebbe why the seventeen years Jacob spent in Goshen were his happiest years. Surely, it is better to live in the promised land rather than in the place of bondage? This simple, yet beautiful question, offers many possible answers. One is that bringing the infinite and the meaningful into the finite and base is in some ways more profound than remaining in a state of purity. We can and should take joy not just in our absolute achievements but in how we handle volatility along the way. The Torah is enlarged by vayigash, by encountering the foreign, and we develop robustness and even anti-fragility by maintaining our connection to the infinite in a place of constriction. Another possibility, suggested by the fact that Yehuda founds a yeshiva, is that Jacob didn’t want to learn Torah by himself—he wanted to learn it with Yosef, specifically. While it is possible to achieve spiritual Enlightenment in solitude, it is also not good to be alone. Going into Goshen, knowing his descendants will be enslaved, is nonetheless a happy time for Jacob, who is accompanied by his entire family. Seeing them learn Torah, he knows everything will be OK.

Shabbat Shalom,

Zohar Atkins

Etz Hasadeh