By: Rolando Kahn
Communications Director
This week’s parsha, Vayigash, drops the reader into the middle of the previous story, where we see Benjamin, the youngest brother, has been accused of stealing a silver goblet from the Pharaoh. As Judah stands before Joseph, unknowingly begging and pleading with his own brother to spare Benjamin and take him as a slave instead, Joseph is so moved that he begins to cry and reveals his identity to his panic-stricken brothers. The three of them then embrace each other and weep with happiness.
“Now,” Joseph said, “do not be troubled about selling me into this place, for God sent me here in order to preserve life. So it was not you who sent me here. It was God. Hurry, go to my father and tell him the news and bring him here. I will provide for all of you.” — MyJewishLearning.com
There are two reasons this story spoke to me: The first is Judah’s impassioned advocacy on behalf of his brother. His desperate attempt to rescue Benjamin shows he knows he did not do enough to save Joseph all those years ago, and that Judah now sees this as an opportunity to make previous wrongs right by offering himself to spare his brother. This act of selflessness and self-awareness tugs at the heart and makes us think of what we would do or give to save the ones we love, especially if previous actions led to painful outcomes for them.
After an emotional reunion, Joseph tells his brothers not to feel guilty for selling him into slavery, and that all these experiences from that moment on were meant to be part of his path that ultimately led him back to his family. It is here that I felt a strong tie to the text because of the relatable themes of forgiveness and understanding, family bonds, and walking difficult paths that lead us to our purpose.
It can be difficult to express empathy for those who have wronged us, and even more so when it is a family member. The common belief is that family should be there for each other through thick and thin, despite differences, and when they fall short of this expectation, it can be painful. It’s in these moments that it’s vital for us to step back, examine our emotions, and approach with understanding. Like we saw with Judah in the story, the family member may already be in agony over their past actions and have a great desire to mend the wound. We often don’t see their pain until certain circumstances cause them to act to finally repair the echoes of the damage they caused.
Further, we can also make the choice—as Joseph did—to see our own hardships as part of a greater path that has been laid out for us, with an unknown destination. It’s easy to sink into ruminations, self-pity, and doubt, but what if we did the opposite and asked ourselves how this situation is helping us move closer to self-actualization? This type of self-reflection better prepares us to practice the empathy, understanding, and forgiveness that are necessary when facing the bad things that have been done to us; not just by family, but by anyone.
We humans are wired for connection and community, and when these needs aren’t met, it can wreak havoc on the physical and mental being. However, when we mend what is broken, our hearts are free to fill with love once again. As we move through the holiday season, it’s my hope that you will read the story of Joseph and his brothers, and be reminded of your capacity to love, empathize, forgive, and mend what is broken. Shabbat Shalom.
Please email Rolando Kahn at rkahn@jewishcolorado.org with questions or comments.