The Torah column is supported by a generous donation from Eve Gordon-Ramek in memory of Kenneth Gordon.
Miketz
Genesis 41:1-44:17
“Kol Yisrael arevim zeh ba’zeh/All of the children of Israel are responsible for one another” (Babylonian Talmud, Shavuot 39a). How crucial it is to be reminded of this core Talmudic teaching during Hanukkah, the Festival of Lights, and against a backdrop of so much darkness and uncertainty!
The rabbis arrive at their hopeful, harmonious notion of “collective guarantee” after a long conversation about the cascading effects of sin. From there, later sages agreed that every Jew should ensure, at minimum, that each member of our extended Israelite family has the most basic needs met for food, clothing and shelter.
But it’s a high bar indeed to be our brothers’ and sisters’ keepers. For such a numerically tiny people, we don’t always agree, to say the least, and too often our differences have resulted in near and actual self-inflicted calamity.
As the story of Joseph, and the Book of Genesis as a whole, move slowly toward a finale, the family schisms and breakdowns are almost too many to count and have brought us to this week’s Torah portion. Jacob and 10 of his 12 sons (Simeon was held at that point for ransom in Egypt) stand rather helplessly amid famine and fear, facing the surreal prospect of having to return to the Egyptian Vizier (Joseph, whose identity is still concealed) with their youngest brother Benjamin in tow.
The suggestion is terrifying to Jacob and the brothers. The loss of Joseph years earlier weighs heavily on the brothers’ consciences, and the fate of Rachel’s only remaining son, Benjamin, hangs in a dizzying balance. But the brothers have suffered and grown, and the leaders among them demonstrate, at long last, their maturity and courage.
Reuben, Jacob’s beleaguered eldest son, tries his best, offering that his father may “kill my own two sons if I do not bring (Benjamin) back to you. Put him in my care” (Genesis 42:37). But Jacob adamantly refuses. Their relationship is complex and fraught, and Reuben is denied redemption.
Instead, it is Judah — whose famous idea it was to sell Joseph to the Midianites (Genesis 37:27) and whose detour from the family led to the death of two of his own sons but also to the start of the Davidic line (Genesis 38) — who steps forward to alter the course of history.
“Judah said to his father Israel, ‘Send (Benjamin) in my care, and let us be on our way… I myself will be guarantor for him; you may hold me responsible. If I do not bring him back to you and set him before you, I shall stand guilty before you forever” (Genesis 43:8-9). And Jacob relents.
The image of Joseph’s tattered, blood-spattered Coat of Many Colors has hung over this family for years. One stitch at a time, it is beginning to be mended. In Judah’s self-appointment as “guarantor,” he says: Anochi eh-er-venu,” the same Hebrew root that the rabbis will take to one day declare all Israel “arevim,” or responsible/guarantors/enmeshed with and for each other.
A mother’s poem, written after October 7, 2023, has become for me a treasured and revisited piece of art in this heartbreaking time. Racheli Moskowitz’s intimate description of gifts provided by the global Jewish community to the soldiers in this soul-shattering war, reminds us all of the comforting power and presence of family obligation.
“A Coat of Many Colors”
My son returned from battle, his duffel bursting
With things I had not packed for him.
Socks donated by a community in Argentina
A quilted blanket smelling like someone else’s home
A blue towel from a family from the moshav
Tzitzit from Jerusalem
A fleece jacket, gifted by a high-tech company
A scarf knitted by an elderly lady
Undershirts purchased from a Paybox group
A sheet that was given to him by a friend
Gloves bought by teenage girls
A jacket from the closet of someone who came and wanted to give.
I spread out all of these garments
And weave together a new coat of many colors.
See, Yosef, your brothers were there for you.
As the poem unfolds, we are touched by the realization that all of the humble gifts are made of cloth and can be woven together to make a new “Ketonet Pasim,” a striped, multi-colored coat like the one that caused so much strife for Joseph. This time, it’s a coat created by a mother, representing deep concern and the hope of a safe return — Joseph’s family “assumes responsibility.”
Another Rachel, Rachel Gottlieb, wrote in the Times of Israel on Dec. 25, 2023: “We are a family. And families sometimes fight. It’s true. But when push comes to shove, with our backs to the wall, when the rest of the world turns against us and all we have is each other, we put aside our differences, shoulder each other’s pain, share in our nationally personal sorrow, and weave ourselves that coat of many colors.”
It’s never been a smooth or simple road for the Jews. But reading the story of Joseph and his brothers during Hanukkah, reflecting on the conflict between the zealous Maccabees and the Hellenized Jews, I’m amazed again what our little Jewish Family has endured. Much of it we’ve done to ourselves, and far too much has come from the outside world.
But the gifts we ultimately give to each other, and the tiny, indomitable candles that blaze in this ongoing darkness, are a beacon of hope. One day, let it be soon, may we know the blessings of family love, communal solidarity and holding each other as guarantors of a peaceful future.