Joseph and the Deadly Brothers: Part I

Joseph and the Deadly Brothers: Part I
D’var Torah on Parashat Vayeishev (Genesis 37:1—40:23)
By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

The story of Vayeishev, this week’s Torah portion, picks up as Jacob is about to settle down in “the land of his father’s sojournings.”

There is both promise and foreboding in the opening sentence of the parasha. Jacob’s life up to that point had been anything but settled or peaceful. The words “his father’s sojournings” remind us that though Isaac, Jacob’s father, never ventured outside the Promised Land, he and the family nonetheless wandered about it extensively and restlessly. Would Jacob’s lot be any different now? As a child and as a young adult, strife and competition were common in Jacob’s life, often with him right in the middle of it all. His return home after 20 years in exile was fraught with strife, fear and tragedy. After the bloody Dinah affair, Jacob must have felt even less secure sharing his dwelling with his volatile and often violent sons. So, following the hopeful but uncertain opening verse of the portion, we are not surprised when things begin to slide rapidly downhill.

The well known story of Joseph and his brothers begins at this point. A true tear jerker, it is one of the most beautiful tales in the whole Torah. A story of love, brotherly hate and betrayal, adventure, discovery and ultimate redemption, it was turned into a multi-volume novel (by Thomas Mann); made into several films (both live and animated); at least one TV mini-series; and the famous musical by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.

In parashat Vayeishev, the first part of this story is told: Joseph’s status as Jacob’s favorite son is publicly established through the gift of a special coat or adorned tunic that Jacob gives him. Joseph abuses his privileged position, maligning his brothers to their father and belittling them through a series of dreams that he relates, in which they bow down to him.

Little wonder, then, that the brothers take the first opportunity to rid themselves of the little pest.

With the brothers away with their flocks on a particularly long journey, Joseph is sent by Jacob to inquire after their welfare. The brothers see him from afar and conspire against him. They capture Joseph and cast him into a dry water pit. At first intending to kill him, they are dissuaded by Reuben—who hopes secretly to release the boy.

It falls to Judah, however, to come up with the odious idea of selling Joseph into slavery. “What do we gain by killing him,” he asks just as a caravan of traders comes near, adding glibly, “He is, after all, our brother, our flesh.”

One can almost hear the snickering.

The trade is made—one boy in return for 20 pieces of silver. The brothers keep the adorned tunic Joseph wore.

On returning home, they show Jacob the tunic, torn and sullied with the blood of a goat they had killed. All at once, Jacob’s world collapses around him. He falls into a state of mourning, unable or unwilling to be consoled—perhaps holding in his heart of hearts the slimmest of all hope that Joseph might still be alive.

The reader knows well, of course, that Joseph is indeed alive, and that his own long journey toward redemption has only begun. Joseph’s narcissistic visions of grandeur have given way to a grim reality of slavery and abuse. Torn from the comforts of home, he becomes filled instead with resentment and ambition, motives he uses well—along with his charm and good looks—to get ahead in life.

It is at this point that a new hero rises in the story. It is Judah—the very same Judah who had suggested selling Joseph into slavery, abdicating any responsibility towards his brother; the very same Judah who, centuries later, will assume tribal leadership over his brothers; the very same Judah whose -ism we follow to this day. It’s a transformation that deserves its own chapter.

We can easily imagine the behavior of the brothers after they show Jacob the bloodied coat Joseph had worn. The guilty silences, the whispers, the downcast eyes, the lies—repeated and adorned through the weeks, months and years—which are like a festering wound. Judah finally breaks away from all this (or perhaps, according to some commentators, is cast out by his brothers who blame him for the disastrous state of affairs). He marries, fathers three sons and marries the eldest of them to a woman named Tamar. Sadly, however, the first son dies, and Judah has the second son marry Tamar with the purpose of fulfilling “levirate” duties (the ancient custom requiring a man to marry his brother’s widow if the dead brother was childless). This son, however, also dies. Fearful of losing his remaining son, Judah sends Tamar away, back to her father’s house, with the promise that when the young boy grows older, he will have her come back. Judah fails to keep his promise, however. Tamar tricks him into recognizing his responsibility—at which point Judah finally begins to comprehend the extent of pain and suffering he had caused his father and brother, among others. It is so that he first sets out on his road toward redemption, a journey that will ultimately earn him the right to represent and lead his brothers and people.

It doesn’t take much for repentance to begin. The first step is recognizing that we may have done something wrong. Fixing the wrongs is much tougher and may take a much longer route. It will take much work yet before Joseph and his brothers achieve reconciliation. For now, however, Joseph must continue his spiritual descent even as he sees growing success—first as a slave, then as slave maker to Pharaoh. The abused becomes abuser before he is redeemed. Judah, as yet unrepentant, must return to his father and brothers. The silent accusations will continue to fly like daggers among them.

And Jacob’s sorrow will continue unabated. At least until Part II is told.

©2010 by Boaz D. Heilman