Sartorial Splendor

This week’s Torah reading marks the beginning of a new stage in the growth of our ancestral family founded by Avraham Avinu. With his marriage to Rivka, Yitzchak became the new director of the developing tribe. Then Ya’akov was sent back to Haran, the family’s original home, and he emerged as the central character in our narrative. Yet in our parashah we read: “These are the chronicles of Ya’akov: Yosef was seventeen years old…” (Bereishit 37:2). From this point on, the storyline of Ya’akov’s clan will be carried forward primarily by Yosef—the new protagonist of our saga.

But why Yosef? He is number eleven of Ya’akov’s twelve sons. Shouldn’t one of the older brothers be chosen to lead? There are two classic approaches to this question.

The first is that Ya’akov was upset with the actual firstborn, Reuvain, because of the mysterious incident recorded in chapter 35, verse 22. We’re not sure exactly what transpired, but the result is that Ya’akov removes Reuvain from consideration for family leadership, which paves the way for Yosef.

The second approach is more positive, and it appears in the third verse of our reading: “Yisrael loved Yosef best of all his sons.” Yosef received the nod because he was the favorite. But why was he the favorite? The verse explains: “because he was the child of his old age.” What does that mean? Binyamin was born when Ya’akov was even older, and several other sons were only slightly older than Yosef.

Naturally, there are countless answers to this famous question, but I’ll present just a couple.

Onkelos, in his authoritative translation, renders ben zekunim as “child of wisdom.” This leads many commentators to explain that Yosef was the only son on Ya’akov’s intellectual level. They add that Yosef was the one to whom Ya’akov transmitted the teachings he had acquired during his studies at the Yeshiva of Shem and Ever—his “gap year” program on the way to Haran (Megillah 16b).

However, to my mind, the answer that hits closest to the mark is that Ya’akov had always hoped to establish the eldest son of his beloved Rachel as the bechor, the leader of the family. He loved Yosef so deeply because Yosef continued his lifelong devotion to Rachel.

Some commentators add that Yosef actually resembled Rachel, and the verse seems to support this by describing him as “well-built and handsome” (yefe to’ar v’yefe mar’eh, 39:6). Yosef is the only male in the Torah described in this way—and Rachel’s beauty is described in identical terms.

A clever but less satisfying explanation is that “son of his old age” means Yosef tended to Ya’akov, acting as a companion or aide. Many elderly individuals have someone who assists with their needs. According to this interpretation, the phrase would mean “the son who attended to his elderly father.”

In any case, Ya’akov loved Yosef and designated him as the future head of the nascent nation. To mark this appointment, he bestowed upon him the ketonet pasim. How should we translate that phrase? There is no shortage of attempts: coat of many colors, ornamented tunic, long colorful coat, ornate robe, distinctive multicolored robe, long-sleeved tunic, fancy frock, elaborately embroidered robe, and—everyone’s favorite—the Technicolor Dreamcoat.

What was the significance of this garment? Clearly, it troubled the brothers, for immediately after mentioning the coat the Torah states: “they could not speak to him peaceably.” Even before Yosef shares his dreams (which truly infuriate them—“they hated him even more,” v. 8), his siblings have had enough. What was Ya’akov trying to communicate with this gift?

The simplest understanding is that Yosef was the new leader and heir. The coat was a badge of rank. While the brothers wore clothing suitable for shepherds, Yosef donned the refined attire of the head of household. That, I believe, is the straightforward meaning of this special garment.

Many mystical and Chassidic commentaries, however, see something deeper. They link the coat to the priestly garments described in Parashat Tetzaveh (Shemot 28). Some even suggest that Yosef wore four garments paralleling those worn by ordinary kohanim in the Beit HaMikdash.

Others propose that this cloak was the very garment Rivka placed on Ya’akov when he received the blessing intended for Esav. This approach is particularly intriguing because these commentators view the garment as the original clothing fashioned by God for Adam. It was later stolen by Nimrod, then taken by Esav, and eventually kept by Ya’akov after the blessing episode—a singular artifact of human history, worn only by the most spiritually powerful individual of the generation.

We will never know with certainty what Ya’akov intended. Still, the simplest explanation remains the most convincing: Ya’akov loved Rachel—and consequently her son Yosef—so profoundly that he wanted the future of the chosen people to run through Yosef and his descendants. Did Ya’akov have a Messianic concept in mind? It’s hard to say, and perhaps unlikely. Yet we do have a mystical tradition that the ultimate Mashiach, descending from Yehuda through King David, will be preceded by a Mashiach ben Yosef. And in the book of Kings, political leadership indeed runs through both Yehuda and Yosef (via Ephraim).

Thus, Ya’akov wanted to signal that future leadership would emerge from Yosef’s line—and the brothers resented it. This animosity set in motion the events that ultimately brought the entire family down to Egypt, beginning with Yosef’s sale to merchants on their way south.

Mystical sources teach that Ya’akov could never stop mourning for Yosef after his disappearance because, at some deep spiritual level, he sensed that Yosef was alive. The brothers managed to interrupt the connection between Ya’akov and Yosef, but they could not sever it permanently, for Jewish destiny flows through that relationship.

As we enter the cycle of Yosef narratives, we must remember that these episodes foreshadow the coming Egyptian bondage. Yet it is that very descent which leads to the two greatest events in human history: the Exodus from Egypt and the Revelation at Sinai. Jewish history may pass through calamities, but it always concludes with triumph.

May this cycle, too, reach its end soon—and may the final redemption arrive swiftly.