Vayeshev: Joseph and His Brothers and Israel Today

When reading the beginning of this week’s parasha it is hard to escape the impression that Joseph was a spoiled, nasty, egocentric and divisive child. First, Jacob gave Joseph an ornamented tunic as an expression of his particular love for him, and then Joseph, in an apparent attempt to solidify his superior status, brought “bad reports” (Genesis 37:2) about his brothers to Jacob. While the nature of these “reports” is not stated, some suggest that Joseph reported anything negative he could find among his brothers, while others argue that he simply told lies and falsehoods in order to make them look bad.

But Joseph doesn’t stop there. He then infuriated his brothers when he foolishly, or provocatively, shared with them his dream of their sheaves bowing down to his. Then, in what seems to be a display of contempt toward not only his brothers but his father as well, he shared his second dream in which the sun (i.e., his father, Jacob) the moon (i.e., his mother, Rachel) and eleven stars (i.e., his eleven brothers) all bowed down to him. Is it any wonder that his brothers could not stand him and wanted him out of their lives? While they certainly went too far in throwing him into a pit and then removing him only to sell him as a slave, we can at least understand the source of their anger and resentment.

The question is what impact, if any, did the experience of the pit, of being sold as a slave in Egypt, and then of being placed in charge of Potiphar’s household have on Joseph himself? We simply cannot answer this question because the Torah does not tell us what he was thinking, nor does it report a single word that he may have said during this time. The first words we hear from him since he last shared his dreams with his brothers were in response to the sexual advances of Potiphar’s wife: “Look, with me here, my master gives no thought to anything in this house, and all that he owns he has placed in my hands. He wields no more authority in this house than I, and he has withheld nothing from me except yourself, since you are his wife. How could I do this most wicked thing, and sin before God” (Genesis 39:8-9)? Joseph here expresses gratitude to Potiphar for all he has done for him, and for putting him in charge of the household. How, then, can he even consider perpetrating such a horrible act of betrayal? Furthermore, Joseph also acknowledges that adultery is a sin against God. Thus, the impression we get is of a loyal, humble, respectful, morally upright, God-fearing individual.

This impression is further reinforced when he later reveals himself to his brothers in Egypt and tells them that not only has a forgiven them but that his descent to Egypt was part of the divine plan to provide for them during the famine (Genesis 45: 4-5). Could this be the same Joseph whom we encountered earlier? If so, how can we explain the dramatic change in his character and behavior?

Apparently, alienation, humiliation, and the prospect of dying alone in a pit, forced him to rethink his arrogance, his disdain for his own family, and the divisiveness and resentment that he caused. Now that he had a new lease on life, he was determined to learn from his mistakes and become a more responsible, ethical, respectful and caring person. Thus, the story of Joseph serves as an example of how tragedy and suffering can help transform relationships characterized by tension, acrimony and divisiveness to those based on mutual respect, caring and love.

I believe it is not too much of a stretch to compare the story of Joseph and his brothers to the situation in Israel before and after October 7. When the current Israeli government first came to power roughly two years ago, it tried to introduce dramatic changes in the balance of power between the judicial, legislative and executive branches. Unfortunately, it sought to do so by using its newfound power to impose its will rather than by engaging in dialogue in an effort to reach a reasonable compromise. Many on the other side viewed this as a sign of hubris and contempt and this led, in turn, to unprecedented tensions and divisions within Israeli society that only increased and intensified to the point where we appeared on the verge of civil war.

And then tragedy struck. On October 7, over 1,100 Israeli citizens in the Gaza envelope were brutally murdered and another 250 taken hostage, and we were forced to fight a war for which we were appallingly unprepared. Thus, we had descended into our own “pit” with no clear path of escape. To make matters worse, soon thereafter, a war broke out in the north as well, forcing 60,000 of our brothers and sisters to evacuate their home and live as refugees in their own country. During this war that has lasted over 14 months, more than 500 of our soldiers have been killed and thousands more wounded.

Yet, despite the tragedy and the horrors, and perhaps because of them, we quickly put aside our differences and learned how to come together as a people. Like Joseph, the hardships and suffering enabled us to gain perspective on our own lives and on the lives of those around us. We became humbler, more responsible, sensitive and caring toward one another and we sought to reinforce the bonds between us.

Sadly, however, in recent weeks we have seen a disturbing trend among leading figures to return to their old divisive ways, and many of us are increasingly concerned that this trend may lead us right back to where we were prior to October 7. The question is will we allow this to happen, or will we do everything in our power to ensure that the critical lessons of October 7 will never, under any circumstances, be forgotten?