Turn It Again: Torah Wisdom for Today
In Pirkei Avot, a book of maxims in the Mishnah, an ancient rabbi, Ben Bag-Bag said about Torah study, “Hafokh bah, va’Hafokh vah, d’khola bah.” Turn it over and over, for everything is in it. For two thousand years, that’s what Jews have done. Here is another turning.
Parshat Vayechi 2025
From Rivalry to Harmony—The Blessing of Ephraim and Menashe
The traditional Friday night blessing that Jewish parents offer their children is composed primarily of the priestly benediction. A line precedes it, however, which changes based on the gender of the child (*although Judaism recognizes numerous genders, the blessing here is binary in nature). Here’s the background.
In this week’s Torah portion, Vayechi, we are presented with a tender, transformative moment. As Jacob lies on his deathbed, he calls forward his grandsons, Ephraim and Menashe, to bless them. What unfolds is nothing short of extraordinary—a scene that breaks a long pattern of sibling rivalry in the Torah and offers us a profound lesson about harmony, abundance, and the courage to rise above our fears of losing out.
Why Do We Feel Loss So Deeply?
As humans, we’re wired to feel loss more strongly than gain. Psychologists call this loss aversion—the idea that losing something hurts more than gaining something of equal value feels good. It’s a survival instinct, rooted in the need to hold onto what’s ours. But it can also trap us in patterns of fear, envy, and competition, especially when we think resources—love, blessings, attention—are scarce.
The Torah is full of stories where this fear spills over into pain and destruction. Cain and Abel. Ishmael and Isaac. Even Jacob himself, who stole his brother Esau’s blessing and left behind a trail of anger and heartbreak. In all these stories, the idea of blessing feels finite—like there’s only enough for one person, and if someone else gets it, you lose.
Ephraim and Menashe: Breaking the Pattern
That’s why Ephraim and Menashe are such a revelation. When Jacob blesses them, he crosses his hands, giving the younger Ephraim the superior blessing of his right hand. Joseph protests, expecting Menashe, the elder, to take precedence. Yet neither brother shows jealousy or bitterness. They accept the moment with grace, embodying the beautiful idea of “sameach b’chelko”—being content with their portion.
Think about how rare this is, not just in the Torah, but in life. When Esau received a blessing after Jacob, it wasn’t enough for him. His wound was deep, his anger fierce. But Ephraim and Menashe seem untouched by that kind of rivalry. They show us that blessings don’t have to be a zero-sum game. Someone else’s gain doesn’t necessarily mean our loss.
A New Beginning
How did this happen? Perhaps it was the healing their family worked so hard to achieve. Joseph’s brothers had confronted their darkest selves after selling him into slavery. They made teshuvah—repentance—when they offered themselves in Benjamin’s place, proving they had grown beyond their envy and guilt. That shift in the family dynamic cleared the way for Ephraim and Menashe to grow up differently, without the baggage of past generations.
And maybe Jacob himself had learned something. The man who once tricked his way into a blessing now gives freely, teaching his grandsons that life doesn’t have to be a contest. It’s a powerful reminder that we’re not defined by the mistakes of our past but by how we choose to move forward.
What It Means for Us
In a world that often feels like it’s built on comparison and competition, Ephraim and Menashe remind us there’s another way. Social media, work, relationships—it’s easy to feel like someone else’s success diminishes our own. But the Torah shows us that blessings are not pie slices to fight over. Life is richer when we stop measuring ourselves against others and start celebrating what we have—and what others have too.
Jacob’s final act in blessing Ephraim and Menashe wasn’t just about them. It was about the future of the Jewish people. These brothers, the first in Torah without rivalry, set the stage for a new kind of relationship—a family and a nation that could thrive by shifting their focus from fear and scarcity to abundance and shared joy.
As we reflect on this parasha, may we take its message to heart. May we break free from the fear of losing out, stop counting every gain or loss, and trust that blessings flow more freely than we think. Like Ephraim and Menashe, may we each find peace in our portion and joy in the blessings of others.
