Belief

How Yaakov’s faith in Yosef sparked self-confidence, resilience, and a legacy of blessing. Uncover the power of belief this Shabbos.

Rav Avraham Grodzynski, the Mashgiach of Slabodka, guided the yeshiva through the tumultuous years following the passing of the Alter, Rav Nosson Tzvi Finkel. He continued in this role through the early years of the Holocaust until his brutal murder by the Nazis.

In 1940, during a talk of chizuk to his talmidim, Rav Grodzynski lamented that something had been missing in the yeshiva and the town of Slabodka since the Alter’s passing. He began to explore what had been the secret charm of the Alter – the unique quality that seemed impossible to replicate. He realized that the Alter’s secret wasn’t merely his profound wisdom; it was his ability to believe in others.

The Alter saw potential where others saw none. Every student felt it—an unshakable confidence and a vision of greatness reflected back at them. It was this belief in his students that transformed Slabodka into a greenhouse of greatness, producing individuals who blossomed into their fullest selves. Slabodka was an outlier, a place where individuals didn’t just learn—they became. At its core was a simple yet profound truth: belief in others inspires belief in oneself.¹

This was the power of belief: to transform, to inspire, to cultivate courage. This wasn’t just an abstract idea; it was deeply personal.

The Baalei Mussar teach that every person possesses a unique trait—a natural spark that, if nurtured, can transform them into their truest self.² The journey to uncover that spark often begins with the belief of someone else. A father’s faith, a mentor’s encouragement—these are the seeds from which self-confidence and greatness grow. Without such belief, the spark may remain dormant, unrecognized even by the person who carries it. This belief in others was not just limited to Slabodka, perhaps its root can be found in another outlier in history – Yosef. Just as the Alter’s ability to show each of his talmidim his belief in them ignited transformation in Slabodka, Yaakov’s belief in Yosef set the stage for his son’s extraordinary journey.

Yosef knew who he was. He stood tall in the shadow of his father’s love—a love that breathed belief into him. When Yosef shared his dreams, his brothers scorned him, mocking his aspirations and conspiring against him with jealousy. But his father, Yaakov, held those dreams close, pondering their meaning and awaiting their potential. Yaakov’s belief in Yosef wasn’t just a gift; it was a mirror, reflecting Yosef’s own potential. With every challenge, with every descent, Yosef carried that image of his father’s faith.

Through the darkest pits of his journey—the betrayal by his brothers, the false accusations in Potiphar’s house, and the endless years in prison—Yosef never faltered. While Hashem never spoke to him directly, Hashem’s presence in his life was undeniable. Hashem was part of his life. He didn’t need to hear it directly from Hashem; he carried an inner assurance, an unshakable sense that he was being led, guided, and accompanied through every trial.

When the brothers were fearful of Yosef, he told them simply that it was all part of Hashem's plan to prepare the ground before they went to Mitzrayim. His faith in Hashem was unshakeable. This faith didn’t emerge in isolation; it was deeply rooted in the foundation of his father’s belief in him which therefore allowed him to believe in himself and thus his faith in Hashem.

When tempted by Potiphar's wife, Yosef turned inward. He saw his father’s face and remembered the faith his father had in him. That memory gave him the strength to act with moral clarity and an unyielding standard. That vision anchored him, strengthening his resolve and reminding him of who he truly was. It wasn’t just fear or reverence of his father or God; it was the courage of self-knowledge, bolstered by the faith his father had instilled in him.

Later, when Yosef sent the wagons to Yaakov, they carried a message layered with meaning. The word for wagons, agalot, shares its root with igul, a circle, hinting at the idea that everything comes full circle. The wagons symbolized more than physical transportation; they represented the completion of a journey—a reassurance that the bond between father and son had endured and that Yosef’s path, with all its twists and trials, had led back to where it began: his father’s faith. It was a profound message: “I am still Yosef, your son, the one you believed in. Your faith was not misplaced. Everything you saw in me has endured.”³

Yosef’s self-awareness was extraordinary; he was attuned to his inner landscape—the storms and the sunshine, the good and the murky. He wasn’t immune to emotion; he felt deeply and yearned for true peace with his brothers. But he drew strength from the confidence his father had instilled in him, mastering those feelings with remarkable discipline.

In moments of overwhelming emotion, such as reuniting with his brothers, he stepped out, washed his face, and returned composed.⁴ This was not the absence of feeling but the presence of control. He knew himself, and that knowledge gave him mastery over his responses. Such self-awareness cannot be taught in words; it must be discovered, cultivated, and embraced through lived experience.⁵

Yaakov’s belief in Yosef was singular; it did not extend to his brothers. He refused to accept his son’s supposed death, holding on to hope even when the evidence suggested otherwise. That belief became Yosef’s foundation, enabling him to believe in himself and draw strength from Hashem’s guidance. It wasn’t just Yaakov’s dreams that Yosef fulfilled; it was his faith.

Belief has a ripple effect—it plants the seeds of self-discovery, nurtures resilience, and empowers growth in those who receive it. It empowers one to rise above doubts and setbacks and to see how Hashem is guiding your life’s journey. But belief does not stop there. Once you learn to believe in yourself, you become equipped to pass that gift to the next generation. This is the great chain of faith: someone believes in you, you believe in yourself, and then you, in turn, believe in others.

We see this beautifully illustrated at the end of Yaakov’s life. When Yosef brought his two sons, Ephraim and Menashe, to be blessed, Yosef expected Yaakov to place his right hand on Menashe, the oldest, and his left hand on Ephraim, the younger. But Yaakov crossed his hands, blessing Ephraim with his right hand. Yosef protested, insisting on the primacy of the oldest. But Yaakov taught him an enduring lesson: belief is not about birth order or conventional expectations. It’s about seeing the unique potential within each child, each person, and believing in them for who they are and who they can become.

Yaakov’s message to Yosef was clear: "You have not yet learned that belief is not bound by hierarchy or tradition. It’s about seeing the future that others cannot yet see and trusting in it." From this moment, the chain continued. Yaakov believed in Yosef; Yosef learned to believe in himself. And now Yosef was tasked with believing in his own children, seeing their individual greatness and nurturing it.

In a world full of doubt, belief is the gift that transforms the ordinary into the extraordinary—the dreamer into a leader. Seek out someone who believes in you. If you lack that person, find a mentor, parent, teacher, or guide—someone older, wiser, and able to see what you cannot yet see. Let their belief fuel your own. Then, pass that gift forward, creating a chain of faith that shapes generations to come.

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P.S.— Comment from my brother Rabbi Sender Haber:

I very much enjoyed the article. The only thing I would add is, just a thought—not that you should add this to the article—is that last week's הפטרה was והיה בית יעקב לאש, ובית עשו לקש, ובית יוסף להבה, which basically means that Yaakov recognized he was אש, but he really wouldn't be able to overcome עשו. Even though עשו was קש, he still couldn’t defeat him. He needed the להבה of יוסף.

It turns out that יעקב could not confront עשו, as we see. He wasn’t able to influence עשו when he lived with him, nor was he able to influence לבן when he lived with him. So now, if he’s going to try to influence עשו by meeting him in פרשת וישלח, he had to have יוסף with him. יוסף had that כח, and we see that יוסף indeed had this כח. First of all, when יוסף was with יעקב, he had enough influence on עשו to make him go away. Later, יוסף, as he went through life, influenced his generation and even the whole world. יוסף actually had influence.

So you see that יוסף had this כח of להבה, which יעקב recognized. Essentially, יעקב realized, “I don’t have this כח,” but he saw that יוסף did. Plugging this into everything you wrote, it means that יוסף went through his life knowing that, from a very young age, יעקב realized he had something special. To the point where יעקב was afraid to confront עשו without his very young son, יוסף—maybe six years old at the time. יוסף lived with that knowledge his whole life: “I have this כח of להבה that my father recognized in me.”

I would just say that this idea fits in well and connects beautifully to everything you said.

1. Toras Avraham, page 428

2. Rav Wolbe, Alei Shur, Vol. 1, pg. 146
See also Rav Chaim Walkin, Daas Chaim uMussar, Vayeshev

3. Kedushas Levi, Vayigash. See also Shvilei Pinchas.

4. Bereishis 43:31

5. Rav Wolbe – ibid.