‘I Am Yosef’ With A Twist

Parshat Bereisheet is tied up to Parshat Vayechi in a way that a gift is tied up with a beautiful bow.

To recap, let’s go back to Bereisheet 4:9 – in the beginning of time, there were 4 people with a tzelem Elokim – a Godly soul – Adam, Chava, and their children Kayin and Hevel. You would think that they would be invested, concerned and in support of each other, but Kayin objected to Hevel’s sacrifice to God and killed him.

וַיֹּ֤אמֶר ה֙ אֶל־קַ֔יִן אֵ֖י הֶ֣בֶל אָחִ֑יךָ וַיֹּ֙אמֶר֙ לֹ֣א יָדַ֔עְתִּי הֲשֹׁמֵ֥ר אָחִ֖י אָנֹֽכִי׃

God said to Cain, “Where is your brother Abel?” And he said, “I do not know. Am I my brother’s keeper?”

And so it was that the very first family was already fractured. But we didn’t fail. Adam and Chava had another child, Sheit who would continue the line. On face value, Bereisheet is all about trials and tribulations, specifically regarding brothers but lets skip a few chapters to when Yosef was thrown into a deadly pit by…his brothers. Here we go again…yet another Godly family couldn’t tolerate the greatness of a different brother, and to be sure, Yosef didn’t endear himself to them, which is why they threw him into the pit. They thought that killing him indirectly would be the way to go. But Yosef was picked up by Yishme’elim merchants and eventually rose up to the viceroy of King Pharaoh of Egypt. He recognized Yosef’s greatness better than his own brothers did and he ultimately was the messenger who saved the Godly family from starvation.

When the brothers went down to Egypt to buy grains, the viceroy Yosef recognized them and played with their minds, it was a showdown like no other. Only when Yehudah acquiesced and told the viceroy that he will take responsibility for his siblings disunity and his father’s shortcomings that Yosef finally revealed himself…the crescendo of the 12 tribes and our whole family. In their nascent maturity, there was one element that tied them together… indivisible unity, all brought to you by Yosef, Yakov’s favored son, the brother whom they all thought was dead. His name means gathering, he gathered them all and fed their hungry families…it’s a wonder no-one has made a Netflix series yet!

Bereisheet 45:3

וַיֹּ֨אמֶר יוֹסֵ֤ף אֶל־אֶחָיו֙ אֲנִ֣י יוֹסֵ֔ף הַע֥וֹד אָבִ֖י חָ֑י וְלֹֽא־יָכְל֤וּ אֶחָיו֙ לַעֲנ֣וֹת אֹת֔וֹ כִּ֥י נִבְהֲל֖וּ מִפָּנָֽיו׃
Joseph said to his brothers, “I am Joseph. Is my father still alive?” But his brothers could not answer him, so dumbfounded were they on account of him.
* * *

My father’s name is Yosef. I really didn’t think much about his name, until now. Born in Hungary in 1928, he went through terrible times as a child, he was sent away to a glorified school for being brilliant, which was a severe punishment because he missed his family very much. He was in Austria learning when the war broke out. His visits to Hungary were few and far between. On one such visit when he was home for a ‘vacation’ his whole community was rounded up and sent to a labor camp. ‘Labor’ seems trite to describe their bitter slavery. But they were together and that was a comfort. The families witnessed their community’s beloved rav dwindling, he suffered from depravity and starvation and his wife and family were murdered in Auschwitz. He went mad. From the finest, most respected rabbi he became a beggar who couldn’t string a sentence together. We can’t even imagine the magnitude of depravation and physical and mental illness people suffered, my father has told me stories that I can’t unhear.

A couple of months before liberation, the rav called my grandfather to his bunker. It was midnight. The rest of the family stayed up, waiting for him to return. When my grandfather came back, he was glowing. He said that the rav, as deranged as he was, recited the entire Hagada by heart…it was Pesach. Who knew? This news was better than the morsels they had to eat. My grandfather recited what he could remember of the Hagada too. Their souls were singing.

2 months later they were liberated and went to DP camps. They all took turns looking after the rav, he was the first to get clothing and shoes, but he was very ill. Eventually, his sister found him and took him back to her house and they never saw him again. Back then there was no way of keeping track of people. The fact that the rav’s sister took him was a measure of comfort. My father asked people over the years if they knew the whereabouts of the rav, but no-one did. “I am Yosef, is my rav still alive הַעוֹדֶ֖נּוּ חָֽי?”

My father and his parents and four siblings received visas to Australia after the Hungarian revolution in 1957. Two brothers were murdered, sacrificed in the Holocaust and it was imperative that the family stuck together. He met other Hungarian Holocaust Survivors, but no-one knew the the rav. Australia is truly the end of the world and he stopped asking.

Fast forward to 2005. I was living in Far Rockaway NY. My parents came to visit my daughter and me and my sister and her family in DC. They stayed for a few weeks. I was working in a high school and we had a Shabbat lunch Shabbaton so my daughter and parents went to our fabulous neighbors for the seuda. This is a very significant detail in the story! I’ve heard it retold so many times by the people at the table, it was as if I was there myself. And here I am retelling the story again!

My neighbor’s parents were also visiting from Connecticut. They were about the same age as my parents and very American, there was a lot of lively Jewish geography at the table. They asked my father what area of Hungary he was from. “Oh, you probably wouldn’t have heard of our remote village in the north, Hodu Nanash.”

‘HODU NANASH??? That’s strange, it’s where our rav in Williamsburg, Brooklyn was from.’ My father’s face turned white.

“What was his name?”

‘Rav Laizer Halperin’

My father was shaking. “Do you have a picture?”

They took out the parents wedding album which happened to be there, and located the picture of the rav under their chuppa. Yes, it was his beloved rav looking healthy and happy, just older. They got married in the ’60s, my father hadn’t seen him since 1946.

My father got up from the table, unable to contain himself and did a kind of happy dance. I’m sorry I missed this moment of jubilation. He is a stoic in every way, yet this revelation was cause for overt joy.

My neighbor’s parents were so happy to share such good news with my father, the entire table was abuzz. My father didn’t, couldn’t allow himself the luxury of ‘what if’ scenarios, they are reserved for people who are not traumatized. He packed the rav away in his heart and got on with living. Now, he finally had an answer to the eternal question ‘Is my rav still alive?’

Yakov had all but given up on his son Yosef, after all, the other brothers gave him proof that he was dead. One of the first questions Yosef asked his brothers when they arrived in Egypt to get food for the family was about their father. They didn’t know it was their brother Yosef yet. And when he did reveal himself, his brothers were dumbfounded. The ‘I am Yosef’ revelation was epic.

My father too was dumbfounded. The revelation that his beloved rav not only got better, but as was first hand reported, he and his sister went to New York and he got married and had two children! He was very well respected his new shul in Williamsburg where a lot of Hungarian refugees settled. He learned English, and counselled his community just like he did in Hodu Nanash. My father was filled with joy, knowing that his rav had a second chance to create a family and community, just as Yosef’s brothers did. Yakov and his sons went down to Egypt, finally reuniting with their beloved Yosef.

My father is still alive, old and frail but headstrong. He reminds me of this story when we are together. It took 22 years for Yakov and Yosef to find each other. There was about a 22 year gap between the last time they saw the rav and the wedding of my neighbor’s parents! The rav died in the 70’s with his family around him.

Shortly after this revelation, my neighbor’s parents got sick. They both died about 6 months later, weeks apart. I can’t help but think that had I stayed home that Shabbat, this might not have come about!

Parshat Vayechi 50:25

וַיַּשְׁבַּ֣ע יוֹסֵ֔ף אֶת־בְּנֵ֥י יִשְׂרָאֵ֖ל לֵאמֹ֑ר פָּקֹ֨ד יִפְקֹ֤ד אֱלֹקֹ֨ים֙ אֶתְכֶ֔ם וְהַעֲלִתֶ֥ם אֶת־עַצְמֹתַ֖י מִזֶּֽה׃

So Joseph made the sons of Israel swear, saying, “God will surely not forget you all, you shall carry up my bones from here.”

And so they did. Yosef’s bones were buried in Israel, finally when Bnei Yisrael went to Eretz Yisrael. The brothers were truly unified, settling in the holy land where we all belong. Look how far they came from Kayin and Hevel!

Although my father didn’t merit to see his beloved rav again, he was content with the news that the rav had a second chance. The community gathered him in. May we all merit these stunning moments like our parsha stories and my father’s story. These stories came full circle, like a bow on a wrapped gift!

About the Author

Tania grew up in Sydney, Australia, moved to NY when she was 22 and found herself in Israel for her 50th birthday - an Aliyah dream come true! She works at a gallery in Jerusalem and is a student of life...Tania is an Orthodox woman with a progressive take on Torah. She started a popular Facebook group for Anglo divorcees and widow/ers called SDEI. But her crowning glory is her daughter on whose footsteps she followed to come to Israel.