"Dreams in the Dungeon: Divine Messages in Dark Places"

Abarbanel and Rav Miller on Hope, Darkness, and Divine Clarity

Parshas Vayeishev introduces a paradox: the most exalted revelations in Sefer Bereishis unfold not on mountaintops but in a pit, in a prison, in the shadows of exile. Yosef’s descent—from favored son to slave to inmate—becomes the stage upon which Hashem’s providence is displayed with the greatest precision. It is specifically there, in the dungeon of Egypt, that dreams begin to speak, destinies turn, and kingship emerges.

Both Abarbanel and Rav Avigdor Miller see in these prison scenes a profound theology: Hashem often discloses His plan when a person reaches the depths, not the heights. When human control is stripped away, the hidden layers of hashgachah become most visible.

This essay explores what dreams mean, why the cupbearer and baker appear at that precise moment, and how Hashem reveals monarchy in the most unlikely chamber of all.

I. Abarbanel: Why Dreams? Why Here?

Abarbanel begins with a question:
Why does the Torah pause the sweeping narrative of the tribes to describe the dreams of two obscure Egyptian officials—one pardoned, one executed?

His answer: because dreams are instruments of Divine communication, and the Torah teaches us to discern when a dream is merely psychological noise and when it carries a prophetic charge.

Abarbanel defines three types of dreams:

1. Natural dreams — echoes of daily life and preoccupations.
2. Demonic or imaginative dreams — distortions born of fantasy or fear.
3. Divinely inspired dreams — rare, coherent, symbolic, unforgettably ordered.

The dreams of the cupbearer and baker, he argues, are unmistakably of the third type:
structured, symbolic, and delivered simultaneously to two men whose fates are interlaced.

But why in the dungeon?

Abarbanel explains:
Hashem reveals Himself most clearly when people are powerless.
In a place where no human ear listens and no politician plots, Hashem sends messages that bypass the palace and land in the prison yard. Yosef, the future viceroy, must learn that kingship flows not from charisma or military power but from being a vessel for Divine insight. Only from a pit can one rise to rule.

II. Rav Miller: Hashgachah That Hides in the Humble

Abarbanel shows how the chamberlains’ dreams were the unlikely hinge of history — obscure men in an obscure cell. Rav Avigdor Miller develops this further: the smallness of the setting is itself the revelation.

In Rav Miller’s worldview, hashgachah pratis is most visible not in grand miracles, but in the ordinary scenes that people overlook. A royal court might attribute insight to brilliance; a palace may take credit for its own success. But in a prison cellar, among disgraced servants and forgotten officials, there is no illusion of human control. Everything is exposed as the handiwork of Hashem.

Thus the Torah lingers on this episode to show that Divine orchestration works through the smallest cogs — a sour expression on the baker’s face, a shift in jail assignments, a dream remembered or forgotten. These details, which seem beneath the notice of kings, are the very levers Hashem uses to move history.

And Yosef’s greatness is that he remains spiritually alert within this hiddenness. He does not dismiss the dreams as “Egyptian nonsense,” nor imagine that prophecy belongs only to patriarchs and kings. Instead, he affirms the principle that defines his life:

“הֲלוֹא לֵאלֹקים פִּתְרֹנִים” — “Interpretations belong to G-d.”

Wherever Hashem sends a glimmer of meaning — even in a dungeon — Yosef is prepared to receive it.
That readiness, Rav Miller teaches, is not passive. It is an act of moral courage: the refusal to let suffering dull one’s awareness, the discipline to see Hashem’s hand even where it feels most obscured.

Yosef becomes the prototype:
attentive, faithful, and receptive to Divine hints even in the darkest places.

This is moral courage under suffering: the discipline to remain attuned to Hashem even when the world shuts its doors.

III. Why Two Dreams? Why These Two Men?

Both Abarbanel and Rav Miller ask:

Why does Hashem send two dreams to two different men in the same night?

Abarbanel:
Because parallel dreams—from parallel officials—create public verification. Each man sees imagery tied to his profession (grapes, baskets), but the timing proves it is not coincidence. Hashem is showing Yosef that he is about to be lifted from obscurity and inserted into the machinery of the kingdom.

Rav Miller adds:
These dreams are Hashem’s way of introducing Yosef to palace politics—to the inner rhythm of Egyptian royal life. Yosef must learn the personalities, the moods, and the dangers of royal service. The cupbearer and baker are Pharaoh’s gatekeepers; through them, the path to Yosef’s rise begins.

They are also two living parables:

• The cupbearer represents life, restoration, and public service.
• The baker represents downfall, corruption, and exposure.

Together they demonstrate that Hashem’s supervision determines outcomes—life or death—not power, not position, and not human loyalty (the cupbearer forgets Yosef for two full years).

IV. Dreams as Messengers in Darkness

One of the striking themes in Chazal is that prophetic clarity emerges at night, when distractions subside. The Rambam in Moreh Nevuchim and the Midrash in Bereshis Rabbah both emphasize that dreams often come when the soul is quiet and the imagination is disciplined.

Abarbanel expands this:
dreams in prison, when life’s illusions are stripped away, are even more capable of carrying Divine truth.

This is why Yosef interprets them with such confidence:

He sees:

• coherence
• symbolism
• timing
• moral clarity

He knows what Rav Miller later articulates:
In the deepest darkness, Hashem often plants the seeds of the greatest light.

V. Leadership Revealed in a Cell

The Abarbanel explains a revolutionary idea:

Yosef’s rise begins not through Pharaoh’s dreams but through the dreams of two servants. The Torah wants us to recognize that:

• Greatness is born from humility
• Royal destiny is shaped in exile
• Hashem designs futures in the places we least expect

Thus, the prison becomes the first “throne room” of Yosef’s leadership.

Rav Miller brings it further:
Yosef becomes a leader not despite incarceration but because of how he behaved in it.

He noticed the pain of others: “Madua pneichem ra’im hayom?”
Chazal point out: noticing another’s face in prison is a mark of tzidkus.
He cared, he listened, he interpreted—and Hashem reshaped history through his empathy.

Leadership begins with paying attention.

VI. Hope in Exile: Lessons for Today

1. Darkness does not mean Hashem is distant.
Often it is precisely there that He crafts our next chapter.

2. Dreams matter—but only when aligned with responsibility.
Yosef teaches that spiritual ambition must be paired with humility and service.

3. Small people and small events move worlds.
A forgotten promise by a cupbearer changes history.

4. Don’t stop noticing others because you are suffering.
Yosef’s leadership begins with compassion inside the dungeon.

5. Divine clarity often comes after human illusions are shattered.
When we stop trusting our own control, Hashem’s plan becomes visible.

Conclusion

From Abarbanel’s philosophical framing to Rav Miller’s practical hashkafah, the Torah’s message is powerful and enduring:

Hashem’s light often begins in the dungeon.
In places of constriction, confusion, loneliness, and exile, we encounter the deepest revelations.
The cupbearer and baker appear not as side characters, but as heralds of Yosef’s future—and the future of Klal Yisrael.

In Vayeishev, we learn that even in the darkest corners of life, Hashem sends messages, opens paths, and plants the seeds of redemption. Our task is to be like Yosef—awake, listening, faithful, and ready to serve Hashem.

📖 Sources

• Full sources available on the Mitzvah Minute Parshas Vayeishev page under insights and commentaries.