This week’s parsha, always read during Hanukkah provides some interesting lessons in leadership. 

 

The bad

Reuben ought, by rights, to be the leader. He is the eldest, but seniority, as we are repeatedly reminded of in the Book of Bereshit, is not the same thing as authority. When Joseph demands that Benjamin be brought to Egypt, Jacob hesitates, scarred by loss and instinctively cautious. Reuben’s attempt to sway him is clumsy and desperate: if Benjamin does not return, Jacob may kill Reuben’s two sons. It is an argument so ill-judged that it disqualifies the speaker. Jacob dismisses it, and after a number of missteps, with it goes Reuben’s last claim to leadership.

 

The good

Judah’s position is, on the face of it, weaker still.
His past is shadowed by scandal, the kind that stains a name and lingers long after the facts have settled. Yet Judah does not evade it. He accepts responsibility, and in doing so alters the temperature of the room.It is a modest act, but a decisive one. From that point on, he’s the guy and he speaks with clarity and is heard. He persuades Jacob to let Benjamin go down with the other brothers, and when danger arises to Benjamin, it is Judah who confronts it directly, placing himself in harm’s way rather than offering abstract assurances.

This is how leadership changes hands—not with ceremony, but with recognition. The other brothers feel it. Jacob feels it. History, eventually, agrees. From here, the pattern locks in. The tribe of Judah becomes the prototype for leadership: From Judah comes a lineage of leaders: Nachshon’s jumping first, Calev’s dissent when dissent matters, David’s flawed brilliance, the truth of Isaiah, and eventually Mashiach. No coincidence that the tribe of Judah and Gryffindor both share the lion as a mascot. 

Even the name remains. We are called Jews, after Judah, as though leadership itself is braided into our DNA, into our identity. 

Judah’s example suggests that leadership is less about an unblemished past than about the capacity to act decisively when it matters and speak clearly when it counts. It is earned, not inherited. Leadership isn’t about moral perfection; it’s about moral presence.

The ugly

Then there’s Pharaoh. After Joseph interprets the dreams, Pharaoh could have said, “Thanks for the insight, Joe. We’ll loop you in if needed.” Instead, he recognizes competence and hands Joseph the keys to Egypt. Vision plus delegation. It works.

By the time we get to Shemot, there’s a new Pharaoh in town who doesn’t know Joseph—and history turns dark fast. This is the recurring Jewish condition: our vulnerability to leaders who don’t know Joseph, don’t remember our contributions, don’t value our continuity.
Mikketz is read during Hanukkah because light isn’t self-sustaining. It has to be actively protected.

 

Too many times in history, we’ve been vulnerable to the whims of foreign leaders, kings, czars, emperors, kaisers, sultans,etc  because they too don’t know Joseph. Sure we dodged a bullet with Haman, but how many times in history were there other Hamans where we didn’t have an Esther or Mordechai to save us? Too many. 

Born and bred in Sydney, I spent long, careless days at Bondi Beach—sunburnt, oblivious, convinced some things like youth were permanent. They weren’t. The beach has now irrevocably changed, joining the Harbour Bridge as iconic Sydney landmarks to be stained by darkness, and the roll-call of cities smeared with Jewish blood keeps growing: Pittsburgh, Istanbul, Buenos Aires, Mumbai, Manchester, Sydney just a very short list of an unfortunate much longer one. .

Which brings us back to leadership – in these times we need strong leadership more than ever.  Not charisma. Not slogans. Not empty assurances. Leadership that is decisive, accountable, and loud when silence is dangerous. Judah-style leadership.

Shabbat Shalom, Chanukah Sameach, Chodesh Tov

David