Yosef’s cries from the pit offered his brothers an opportunity to reverse their decision, to save their brother from the pit and themselves from the eternal stain of this dreadful crime. It seems, however, that they were unable or unwilling to hear the voice of conscience.
Rav Menachem Kasher, in his Torah Sheleima to Parashat Vayeshev (chapter 37, note 142), cites a description from the Sefer Ha-yashar of the events that followed the casting of Yosef into a pit in the fields outside Shekhem. According to this account, Yosef cried to his brothers from the pit, pleading with them to rescue him:
Yosef called from inside the pit to his brothers, saying to them: “What did I do to you? How have I wronged you? Why do you not fear God with regard to me? I am, after all, your bone and flesh, and your father Yaakov is my father. Why do you do this to me today? How will lift your face in the presence of our father Yaakov… Yehuda, Reuven, Shimon and Levi – my brothers! Raise me from the depths into which you placed me! Look this day upon my face and the face of my father Yaakov. And if I have wronged you, aren’t you the sons of Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov, who would have compassion when they saw an orphan, would feed bread if [they saw] a hungry person, give water if [they saw] a thirsty person, and clothe if [they saw] a naked person? How do you not have compassion for your brother – for I am your bone and flesh! And if I have wronged you, then shouldn’t you act for my father’s sake?”
The Sefer Ha-yashar proceeds to record the brother’s response to Yosef’s impassioned cries:
All his brothers heard his cries and weeping inside the pit. His brothers went and distanced themselves from the pit so that they would not hear Yosef’s cries and weeping in the pit. They went and sat from afar, at a bow’s distance, and they sat there to eat bread.
The brothers responded to Yosef’s pleas by moving away so that they could not hear him. His cries no doubt aroused their conscience; they assuredly knew that all he said was true, that regardless of his crimes toward them, nothing could justify this act of cruelty, which marked such a drastic departure from the legacy of their father, grandfather and great-grandfather, the legacy of kindness and compassion. The pangs of conscience were too much to bear, and so they moved away.
This account should perhaps draw our attention to the general human tendency to close one’s ears to words of criticism. All too often, we, like Yosef’s brothers, choose to “move away” from, to avoid listening to, unsettling truths about our conduct and decisions. We ignore or resent those who offer criticism, and prefer the company of those who support everything we do. Yosef’s cries from the pit offered his brothers an opportunity to reverse their decision, to save their brother from the pit and themselves from the eternal stain of this dreadful crime. It seems, however, that they were unable or unwilling to hear the voice of conscience, and chose to silence that voice and listen instead to the voice of, “Behold, the man of dreams is coming; let us now kill him…” This story thus teaches the importance of listening to conscience rather than moving away from it, and remaining open to criticism rather than stubbornly rejecting it.