Vayigash: Moral Advocacy
- Josh Scharff

- 6 hours ago
- 4 min read

Shabbat Shalom, everyone. I hope you had a meaningful end to Hanukkah and that it was full of light and celebration for you and yours; I also hope that these weeks of transition between 2025 and 2026 bring some much needed rest and recuperation alongside quality time with loved ones.
I know the winter break means time spent out of the city for many of our JCP families. This week I was fortunate to spend time with my family in Spain: the first half of the week in Catalonia and the second half in the south of the country. It will probably not surprise you to read that, when I travel, I make sure to take time to learn the Jewish history of the cities and countries that I visit.
To that aim, we spent this past Monday in a city called Girona, located 65 miles northeast from Barcelona. The first documented Jewish life in Girona comes from 890CE when the local lord, Dela, invited a group of Jewish families into the city walls to live under his protection. Jewish life quickly took root and began to flourish both in Girona as well as in many other Catalonian cities.
The Jews of Girona were woven into the fabric of the life of the city. They organized their own local council, called an Aljama, that functioned very much as the governing council for the Jewish community. It maintained religious institutions - synagogues, Jewish schools, a rabbinic tribunal - as well as communal and ritual services: a hospital, a Mikveh, funeral and burial staff, a kosher butcher and slaughterhouse.
By the 13th century, Girona was a flourishing home of Jewish creativity. Known as “City Mother of Israel” to other Jewish communities, local scholars delved into the creation of Passover Haggadahs in the gothic style, translation of rabbinical texts into dozens of languages, and proliferation of the study of Kabbalah - Jewish mysticism - which led to a renaissance of the genre in Jewish communities worldwide.
It was during this golden age that Girona’s most famous rabbi, Rabbi Nahman ben Maimon (known as the Ramban) lived. His impact on Jewish life was immense. He was one of the great populizers of Kabbalah and mysticism; he also played a role in moderating a bitter dispute between two schools of Jewish thought at the time.
The Ramban wrote extensively about this week’s Torah portion, Vayigash. In its opening verses, we find Joseph’s brothers, who had come down to Egypt to acquire food in the midst of a great famine in the Land of Israel, standing before the second most powerful man in Egypt. They had no clue that the same man was their long lost brother, Joseph. Joseph, who recognized his brothers, had set a trap by placing a silver goblet in Benjamin’s, their youngest brother's saddlebag and threatened to imprison him. He was testing them to see if they were the same people who had conspired to sell him into slavery all those years ago.
Judah, who was one of the main conspirators in their youth, this time bravely intervenes on his brother’s behalf, knowing full well that this could mean a lifetime in prison, or worse. The Ramban writes that the name of the Torah portion, Vayigash, which means “approach,” tells us that Judah does not only speak up for Benjamin; he also physically steps in between Benjamin and Joseph, protecting his young brother from a powerful threat. For the Ramban, this is an act of great courage — approaching power rather than shrinking from it. The Ramban sees this as the Torah model of moral confrontation: calm, respectful, but fearless.
What is most inspiring to me is that the Ramban did not only write these words, but adopted them as a lived principle. In 1263 he was called to participate in a public defense of Judaism known as the Disputation of Barcelona. He was challenged to defend the theological beliefs of Judaism against the Inquisition which was slowly gaining momentum in the second half of the 13th century.
Many Jews were hesitant about his participation in such a public debate, fearing that raising the public profile of the community could only be a negative choice. But the rabbi bravely stood up for his community, its beliefs and its right to live as they saw fit. And, while the cards were stacked against him from the outset, many contemporary non-Jewish observers of the debate recorded in their diaries and letters that the Ramban was the victor.
I was moved by the Ramban’s courage and I found it resonated deeply with me for this period of Jewish history in which we find ourselves. Even though the Ramban had much to lose, his love and devotion for his people allowed him to summon the courage to find bravery in a challenging moment. The example he set by standing up for his people is one that gives me, and I think can provide for all of us, a model of calm, respectful advocacy as we are met by rising antipathy towards Judaism and the Jewish community.
As we move into 2026, may we all be inspired by the Ramban - to strengthen our love for the Jewish people and our traditions, to speak up for ourselves and our loved ones, and to stand up for ourselves respectfully if and when we must.



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