There’s an interesting pattern in this week’s parsha. When the text tells us that Yaakov sends his sons to Egypt, Rashi sees a sort of pun:
שֶׁבֶר means “merchandise”; שֶׂבֶר means “hope”.
But what is striking about this reading is that it is addressed to us, the readers, not Yaakov himself.
We something similar when the brothers confront the viceroy of Egypt, not knowing that he is Yosef.
And when Yaakov allows Binyamin to go down to Egypt:
I don’t know the distinction that Rashi is making between אספקלריא של קדש, נצנצה בהם רוח הקדש and רוח הקדש נזרקה בו, but if we were reading the Torah as a purely literary text, we would call this dramatic irony:
Dramatic irony is the author’s way of winking at us, telling the reader that there’s someone “behind the scenes” making the plot flow. As a religious text, the Torah is telling us something similar. There’s one more episode of dramatic irony in this parsha:
It’s not noticeable until we think about it, but ה׳ has been absent for the past 2 parshiot. The last time ה׳ spoke to anyone was in וישלח:
And we don’t see a נבואה until next week’s parsha:
And then:
What happened, obviously, was the sale of Yosef. Yaakov has been mourning his son for 22 years, and, while in mourning, cannot be a נביא.
We don’t notice the absence of ה׳'s voice because His name is mentioned all the time. People still talk about G-d: (בראשית מא:טז) אלקים יענה את שלום פרעה, and we saw Yaakov speak to G-d: וא־ל ש־די יתן לכם רחמים. But G-d doesn’t talk to Yaakov. Nonetheless, the text reminds us, He does. He just can’t hear it in the face of our עצבות.
We don’t have נבואה today.
But the Torah is telling us that even so, ה׳'s voice is with us today as long as we are speak with ה׳.
This week’s parsha reminds us that even when we don’t hear it, whenever we turn to ה׳, we can still have ניצוצות של רוח הקודש.