The Torah column is supported by a generous donation from Eve Gordon-Ramek in memory of Kenneth Gordon.
Vayigash
Genesis 44:18-47:27
About a decade ago, I encountered what I believe to be one of the most challenging and powerful nuggets of wisdom in our Jewish tradition.
This is a midrash that tells the story of how Joseph returns to the pit his brothers threw him into when he was 17. He returns to the location of the worst moment of his life and recites the prayer that one says over a miracle.
Joseph turns the hardest part of his life into a blessing.
When I first heard this, I didn’t think this was relevant to me. Why would I want to turn the worst moments of my life into blessings? Aren’t some things just really hard and we should leave it at that?
I initially responded negatively to this message, but it stayed with me in the years to come. It somehow became my spiritual work. I didn’t know how to do it, but I knew this was my task. I had to find a way to think of the worst moments of my life as blessings.
I thought about Joseph. What was it that enabled him to come to this sense of equanimity?
The story of Joseph is one of the longest continuous narratives in the Hebrew Bible.
With all their twists, turns and psychological intrigue, the 13 chapters of the Joseph narrative offer us the opportunity to learn from the fullness of a human life.
Joseph’s story begins with Rachel giving birth to him. Joseph quickly becomes Jacob’s favorite son, and so Jacob gives Joseph a colorful cloak.
Throughout his life, Joseph is an interpreter of dreams. When he is 17 years old, his dreams predict his own success and his 11 brothers’ demise.
This infuriates his brothers, who then throw him into a pit, fake his death and sell him as a slave to merchants. These merchants take Joseph to Egypt.
In Egypt, Joseph experiences many highs and lows — from imprisonment to eventually ending up as Pharaoh’s second in command.
Joseph’s brothers know nothing of this. In a moment of peak dramatic irony, the brothers come to Joseph during a famine without realizing who he is and ask him for help.
In our Torah portion this week, Parashat Vayigash, Joseph’s brother Judah gives an impassioned speech, which finally prompts Joseph to reveal to his brothers who he is.
Joseph then reconciles with his brothers and reunites with his father, who is overjoyed to see him. The whole family moves to Egypt. Joseph lives to 110, which I’d say would be pretty good for our times, but only decent by Biblical standards.
The descendants of Jacob, otherwise known as the Israelites, thrive and multiply in Egypt — which leads us into the book of Exodus.
Exodus begins years later with an evil Pharaoh who has enslaved the Israelites.
If we take a step back, Joseph shares the condition of most characters in the Hebrew Bible. He is at the whim of forces he can’t control, as well as a complicated interplay of his foibles and his admirable qualities.
Joseph certainly has his flaws, one of which is youthful arrogance as seen in his sense of superiority over his brothers.
But another aspect of Joseph’s disposition struck me. Throughout his story, the Biblical narrative indicates in various ways that Joseph shows deep emotion.
When Joseph first sees his favorite brother, Benjamin, in Chapter 43 of Genesis, he is so overcome by emotion that he runs back to his room to cry.
In our parashah this week after Judah pleads on behalf of Benjamin, Joseph is again overcome by emotion. He sends everyone except his brothers out of the room. The Hebrew here gives a sense of how emotional he becomes: “V’lo yechol yosef l’hitapek.”
The Hebrew here literally means, “And Joseph could not hold himself back.”
He then reveals himself to his brothers and sobs so loudly that “mitzrayim” hears. The Hebrew is ambiguous. “Mitzrayim” could refer either to the Egyptians in the palace or to all of Egypt. Either way, Joseph is crying very loudly.
I wonder whether this quality of being willing to show his impassioned side is the key to Joseph’s ability to understand the hardest time of his life as miraculous.
Because Joseph deeply expresses his sentiments, he feels a release. His capacity to truly say and feel his emotions helps him process what has happened to him. This in turn allows him to come to peace with his experiences.
This is consistent with various models for pastoral care I’ve learned about as a rabbi and in my training. When we express our deeply held feelings in a safe and loving environment, we are able to feel a sense of release. This letting go of our emotions can then enable us to understand our lives differently.
It seems that throughout his life, Joseph does something similar. By letting out his emotions, by processing what is happening, Joseph is then able to gain a new perspective on his life.
Surely, this formula will not work for every person in every case. Some of our experiences are so challenging it simply isn’t possible to conceive of them as miracles. Some of the pits we are thrown into are that deep.
And yet I wonder if even in those cases Joseph’s approach of emotional release can help us.
When we feel comfortable and safe, we can take advantage of opportunities to express what is most urgent to us. This act of conveying what we find most important can allow us to move through the difficulties of life — and create new narratives about our lives.
Then, gradually, we can transform our wounds into wisdom, our pits into miracles.