The Courage to Notice
Parshat Vayeshev (Genesis 37:1-40:23)
Have you ever been so weighed down by your own worries that you barely noticed the people around you?
“When Joseph came to them in the morning, he saw that they were troubled. He asked Pharaoh’s courtiers, ‘Why are your faces downcast today?’” (Genesis 40:6–7)
It’s a simple question, but it changed history.
Joseph had every reason to turn inward. Betrayed by his brothers, sold as a slave, falsely accused, and now imprisoned in a foreign dungeon—he could have shut down emotionally, focused only on survival. Instead, he looked up, saw two strangers in distress, and asked how they were. That one act of compassion set in motion the chain of events that would lead him from confinement to Pharaoh’s palace, and from despair to redemption.
The Midrash (Bereshit Rabbah 84:10) teaches that Joseph viewed every encounter as divinely arranged. To him, no moment was random. Each meeting, even in the darkness of a prison, was a thread in G-d’s larger tapestry. When the butler and baker shared their dreams, Joseph listened with humility, saying, “Do not interpretations belong to G-d?” (Genesis 40:8). His gift of understanding was not an act of pride but of service—a channel for something greater than himself.
Chassidic teaching highlights something remarkable: Joseph is the first person in the Torah described as a successful man. When? Not in his father’s home, nor in Pharaoh’s court, but as a slave and a prisoner. The Tolna Rebbe explains that Joseph’s true success was his refusal to let hardship define him. Even when stripped of power, he chose dignity. Even when confined, he chose faith. His greatness was not that he escaped suffering but that he transformed it into purpose.
Of course, noticing others when we’re struggling isn’t easy. When life presses hard, even kindness can feel like another burden. Joseph’s question—“Why are your faces downcast today?”—isn’t the reflex of a man untouched by pain; it’s the choice of someone who refuses to let pain make him numb. Compassion, for him, wasn’t an extra—it was how he stayed human.
Think about how different our lives might look if we carried Joseph’s awareness into our daily routines. It might mean noticing the cashier who looks exhausted and saying something kind. Or texting a friend who’s gone silent. Or pausing long enough to really listen when someone begins a story you don’t have time for. These small, almost invisible gestures may not change the world, but they can change a person’s day—and sometimes that’s where redemption begins.
Faith in Providence doesn’t mean accepting everything that happens; it means meeting each moment with presence, trusting that even small acts can carry eternal weight. Every kindness, every word of comfort, every time we lift our eyes beyond ourselves, we become co-authors of redemption.
True success, Joseph teaches, isn’t measured in power or comfort but in how we respond to struggle—with humility, empathy, and hope.
What would it look like this week to lift your gaze from your own troubles long enough to notice someone else’s? Like Joseph, you might discover that the path to freedom often begins with the courage to care.
Wishing you a good week and Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Yonatan Hambourger