It was clear to Yosef that revealing his identity to his brothers left them aghast and perhaps even fearful for their lives. Yosef’s immediate response was to assuage their fears and, perhaps, even to appease them:
“And now (וְעַתָּה), do not be distressed or angry with yourselves that you sold me here, for it was to preserve life that God sent me ahead of you.” (Genesis 45:5)
“And so (וְעַתָּה), it was not you who sent me here, but God; He has made me a father to Pharaoh…” (ibid., v. 8)
Was Yosef merely attempting to comfort his brothers in a fraught moment, or was he articulating a far-reaching theological claim?
This question loomed large for modern Hasidic thinkers, who read Yosef’s words as conveying profound theological meaning. Here we will examine two such interpretations.
Taken at face value, Yosef’s statements are troubling: how could he so readily absolve his brothers of guilt for the grave sin of selling him into slavery?
For the S’fat Emet, Rabbi Yehudah Aryeh Leib Alter, the second Gerer Rebbe (Poland, late 19th–early 20th century) the answer is both simple and precise. Drawing on a midrashic understanding of the term “v’atah” as signaling repentance (See Bereishit Rabbah 21:6), he argues that Yosef’s grant of forgiveness was contingent upon the brothers having already done teshuvah. Their reprieve, then, was not unconditional but the result of moral and spiritual atonement (S’fat Emet, Vayigash 5637, Or Etzion ed., p. 380).
A more contemporary master, Rabbi Shalom Noah Berezovsky, the Slonimer Rebbe and author of Netivot Shalom (20th-century Israel) offers a far more provocative theological vision. In his reading, the brothers did not sell Yosef of their own autonomous volition; rather, they unwittingly served as instruments of divine will, selling Yosef into slavery as part of the divine vision to provide sustenance during hard times. Yosef, however, was fully aware of this larger providential design. This awareness, coupled with clear signs of the brothers’ repentance, explains why he could so readily acquit them of responsibility for their deed.
Obviously, it is distinctively possible that neither of these approaches describe Yosef’s true intent, still, they do prompt us to confront serious religious challenges. The Sfat Emet, the more conventional of the two, reminds us that we are answerable for our actions and cannot divorce ourselves from responsibility for what we have done. We are obliged to right our behavior.
Berezovsky’s vision is more challenging. For him, there is a divine picture which is larger than any of us and of which we are all actors. This larger picture is one which we may not yet understand or even perceive. Berezosky is aware of this dilemma and addresses it. He asserts that we must strive to have faith like Yosef who despite living through the trials and tribulations of his life was able to have a sense that he was part of God’s larger picture. This was his source of strength and fortitude and for Berezovsky, it should be ours as well. |
