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The Selling of Yosef and Yosef's Treatment of His Brothers in Egypt

    We read in Parashat Miketz of Yosef’s harsh treatment of his brothers when they came to Egypt to purchase grain.  Now the Egyptian vizier who presided over the distribution of grain during a time of severe drought, Yosef accused his brothers – who did not recognize him – of coming to spy, and eventually took Shimon as a prisoner.  He instructed them to return to Canaan and bring to him their youngest brother, Binyamin, to prove their innocence. 

            Many commentators noted how Yosef’s plan was to recreate the circumstances of the brothers’ crime against him.  Now, just as then, their brother was being thrown into a “pit” – in this instance, a prison – and they would have to return home to their father and report that his son is missing.  Yosef has them bring Binyamin and arranges that they would have to return to Yaakov and report that the son of his most beloved wife, Rachel, is gone – just as they did after Yosef was sold into slavery.  (In response to Yehuda’s impassioned plea, however, Yosef reneges and reveals his identity to his brothers.)

            It has been suggested that Yosef’s accusation against his brothers was also intended as a parallel, of sorts, to the event of mekhirat Yosef.  Yosef accused them of coming as spies – “to see the hidden parts of the land” (42:9) – when in truth they had come out of the perfectly innocent desire to purchase grain.  This is quite similar to what happened when Yosef was sold as a slave.  He had come to the brothers innocently, with the intention of inquiring about their wellbeing, as Yaakov had requested.  They, however – at least from what Yosef understood – suspected that he had come to “spy,” to pry into their private affairs and then report on them to their father.  This is what led them to conclude that he had to be eliminated, either by being put to death or sold as a slave.

            This parallel, however, brings into focus a crucial difference between the two incidents.  Yosef cast allegations against his brothers that were entirely baseless.  There was no reason at all to suspect them of having come to Egypt for any reason other than to purchase grain.  When Yosef came to his brothers in Dotan, however, it was not unreasonable for them to assume that he had come to spy on them.  He already a record of bringing negative reports about them to Yaakov (37:2), and he had spoken to them about his dreams of ruling over the family.  The brothers had moved with their flocks to the area of Shekhem, far from the family’s home in Chevron, likely in order to distance themselves from Yosef, who was seeking to undermine their standing in the family and assert his authority.  Now that Yosef had come after them, it was, seemingly, understandable that they suspected Yosef of coming to spy on them as part of his effort to impose his rule and authority.

            Nevertheless, Yosef thought it was appropriate to arrange this “reconstruction” of his brothers’ crime against him, because the truth is that he had not come to spy against them.  His message, perhaps, was precisely that their accusation about him was baseless.  Despite their past history, they had no right to assume nefarious motives before even speaking to him and inquiring into the reason for his unexpected visit.  He was as innocent when he came to Dotan as the brothers were when they came to Egypt.  And thus their mistreatment of him was as cruel and unjustified as his hostility towards them when they were simply trying to purchase food for their families.

            Yosef’s message is that we must give people the benefit of the doubt, and a chance to prove themselves, despite past tensions and hostility.  We should not necessarily assume that people who were unkind and antagonistic in the past are acting the same way now.  All people are given the opportunity to change, and we must allow them the opportunity to regain our trust and friendship.

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What did Reuven Really Mean?

We read in Parashat Miketz of Reuven’s startling proposal to Yaakov as he and his brothers attempted to persuade their father to allow Binyamin, the youngest brother, to join them in Egypt, as the vizier (Yosef) had demanded.  Yaakov adamantly refused to allow Binyamin to join them, fearful that something might happen to Binyamin.  Reuven tried to assure Yaakov by “offering” that Yaakov could kill his two sons if Binyamin did not return home safely (42:37).  Yaakov, naturally, refused, and Rashi, citing the Midrash, writes that Yaakov (at least inwardly) ridiculed the suggestion that this “offer” would give him assurance of Binyamin’s safety.

The question arises as to what Reuven actually had in mind in making this proposal.  Why did he think this would convince Yaaakov to allow Binyamin to travel to Egypt?

            One simple possibility, perhaps, is that Reuven was merely expressing his confidence that Binyamin would return safely.  He was not “offering” to Yaakov the “right” to kill his two sons if Binyamin did not return, but was rather committing to ensure Binyamin’s wellbeing to the point where he was prepared the wager his own sons’ life for it.

             A different approach is taken by Rav Aryeh Nachum Lubetzky, in his Nachal Kedumim.  He writes that Reuven was not “offering” to kill his sons, but was rather explaining to Yaakov that the alternative to sending Binyamin to Egypt was the death of Yaakov’s grandchildren.  After all, as the Torah described several verses earlier, the famine in Canaan was dire, and the family had already consumed the rations that the brothers had brought with them from their initial trip to Egypt.  They were all starving, and it would not be too long until some family members began dying from hunger.  This, Rav Lubetzky writes, was the point Reuven was trying to make to Yaakov.  Out of respect for his father, he did not want to come right out and say that he was killing his grandchildren.  And so he instead conveyed this message in an awkward, roundabout way.

            If, indeed, this was Reuven’s intent, this his comments to Yaakov perhaps serve as a warning against the tendency many of us have to obsess over one particular concern at the expense of everything else.  Reuven charged that Yaakov was narrowly concerned with Binyamin’s wellbeing and thus lost sight of the broader picture, of the needs of the family at large.  His preoccupation with Binyamin’s safety, at least from Reuven’s perspective, was literally putting the family’s lives at risk.  Often, we stubbornly adhere to a particular matter, affording it such high priority that other, equally important concerns are neglected.  We need to ensure that our concern for one “son” does not risk the entire “family”; that our passionate commitment to one issue does not lead us to neglect everything else.

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The Second Haftara for Hanukka

This year, we have a unique opportunity. Usually, Chanukah includes just one Shabbat. This year it spans over two. This means that we have a haftora that is read most infrequently. Chazal have taught us that each week's haftora should be connected to the Torah reading or more specifically to the maftir, the last portions read from the Torah. The haftora for the second Shabbat of Chanukah (Kings I, 7:40-50) deals with the final acts and a brief summary of the construction of the Solomonic Temple. So, too, the maftir deals with the final gifts and a summary of the construction of the desert Tabernacle. Both of these obviously fit nicely with the idea of Chanukah, rededication of the Temple.

In the haftora, we find a very interesting change. In the beginning of Chapter 7 (verse 13), we are told that Solomon hired an expert craftsman and brought him to Jerusalem to build the Temple. Fittingly, the summary tells us that Hirom (the craftsman) built the temple and its various parts. Curiously, however, in verse 48 we are told that Solomon, not Hirom, built all of the vessels such as the golden altar and the table for the show bread. Does this mean that these items Solomon built with his own hands? This we can't say for certain. We know that he had a massive team of laborers on this project! Further, we should note that these are the vessels inside of the Temple, the home of God. Solomon wanted to be certain that it was he, not a hired craftsman, who took charge of the construction of the most central of vessels. Solomon had spent years building his palace. Now, when it came to the House of God, he would be personally in charge of the most intimate of items in the home. The golden altar, the table of God, would be built by Solomon himself. A powerful ruler, like Solomon, still gave personal attention to his intimate relationship with the home of God.

This, too, is one of the lessons of Chanukah. We are all familiar with the story of the young boy who found the one pure jug of oil. As Solomon teaches us, it is the spirit of the excited young boy that we should strive to imbue in ourselves. The spirit of personal attention, the spirit of giving and love in a renewed and rededicated relationship with God, is the lesson of Solomon's personal hand in the Temple, as well as the festival of Chanukah

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The Second Yishmael

What is Yoseif doing? For anyone learning Parashat Miketz, this is the paramount question - and a perplexing one. For the first two decades of his exile, Yoseif seems to have no desire to return home; never does he contact his father, and he names his firstborn in gratitude “for God has made me forget all of my toil and all of my father’s house” (41:51). Yet when his brothers come before him, he seems anxious to reunite with them, particularly to see Binyamin and to find out if his father lives - and is so emotionally touched that he repeatedly breaks down crying while conducting his charade (43:30, 45:2). Inevitably, one must ask: what does Yoseif truly feel, and why does he feel compelled to act out the elaborate and painful drama of bringing down Binyamin?

There are two basic approaches taken by modern commentators to this problem, that of Rav Yoel bin Nun and that of Rav Yaakov Meidan. According to one, Yoseif views himself as a victim of treachery, both his brothers’ and his father’s (for sending him out to them in the first place), while he tries to isolate Binyamin. Thus, when Yehuda mentions Yaakov’s devastation in 44:28, Yoseif finally realizes the truth of the situation. This is unappealing for many reasons, not least because it supposes that Yoseif would suspect his beloved father of conspiring to kill him (despite the fact that Yaakov sends him to Sh’chem, while the brothers are in fact in Dotan); furthermore, we must wonder why Yoseif did not reveal himself the moment he saw his brother’s contrition (43:21-23), instead of carrying on a charade for the better part of a year. Indeed, if he still suspected his father, how does he know Yehuda is not lying when he reports Yaakov’s devastation? Yaakov had to at least pretend to be devastated, if only to allay Binyamin’s suspicions. The other approach is somewhat better, as it gives a convincing reason why Yoseif would not contact his father; he believed that he was the rejected son, the “nidcheh,” much as Yishmael had been to Avraham and Eisav to Yitschak. Yet the idea that the whole ruse was conducted by Yoseif as an atonement service free of charge is abhorrent; what gives Yoseif the right to do so? As Yoseif himself says, “Am I in God’s stead?” (50:19)

What is the alternative? The key lies in the middle of Parashat Miketz; when his brothers bow before him, the verse notes (42:8-9): “Yoseif recognized his brothers, but they did not recognize him. Yoseif remembered the dreams which he dreamt about them, and he said to them ‘You are spies!…’”

We may now travel back 21 years to Yoseif’s time in the pit. He had just been left there, presumably to die. At this point, Yoseif begins to doubt his arrogance. Perhaps his brothers and his father were right, and his dreams are delusions of grandeur; perhaps, like Yishmael, he has been rightly abandoned in the wilderness to die. Then perhaps, like Yishmael, he may hope for divine redemption - not to return to his father’s house, for he is nidcheh, rejected - but at least to lead a righteous life. Indeed, from the moment Yoseif is rescued, he is a new man: no longer a cocky, preening teenager, he is now pious and humble. He begins to forget his father’s house - though never his lesson.

Slowly, Yoseif’s fortunes change, and he becomes viceroy of Egypt. Then, out of the blue, his brothers are kneeling before him - fulfilling his youthful dreams! Perhaps they were not fantasies, then; perhaps they are the nidchim, while Yoseif (with Binyamin?) is the chosen one. On the other hand, perhaps neither are nidcheh; perhaps, just as Yoseif has matured, his brothers have changed as well. There is only one way to know, painful as it will be for Yoseif, wrenching as it must be for Yaakov: an experiment, recreating the conditions of Yoseif’s sale. Once again, a son of Rachel, a favorite of their father (for so Binyamin must have become, in Yoseif’s absence) and spoiled (43:34), guilty of a presumptuous crime (the theft of the goblet) will be in the pit; once again, the brothers will have the chance to abandon this favored son to his fate - or to put themselves on the line for him. This time, Yehuda rises to the challenge; and Yoseif realizes that this time, finally, there is no nidcheh, for they are all worthy of founding the Chosen Nation.

On Chanukah, when brother had to fight brother in God’s name, we all eagerly anticipate that future of “Thus says Lord God: ‘Behold I will take the branch of Yoseif… and I will put them upon it with the branch of Yehuda, and I will make them one branch, and they shall be one in My hand” (Yechezkel 37:19).

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Yosef Speaks Up

In the beginning of Parashat Miketz, Pharaoh calls upon Yosef - the reputed dream-interpreter - to uncover the meaning behind his peculiar dream. As we know, Yosef does that and more. After predicting the impending years of plenty and famine, Yosef advises revamping the economic system and establishing a thorough conservation policy throughout the country. Many have wondered how did Yosef, a foreign prisoner, convicted of a most severe crime, dare open his mouth and offer unsolicited advice before the royal court? He was asked simply to interpret the dream; how did he have the gall to proceed even further and express his plans for the agricultural stability of the Egyptian empire?

Some have answered very simply, how could Yosef not have offered advice! If one finds himself in a position to help hundreds of thousands of people, he just does it. As Yosef prophetically saw the devastation of famine, this was no time to ask questions or worry about saying too much. The situation arose when he had to go ahead and speak up. Just think what would have happened if Yosef felt inhibited and refrained from presenting his plan to Pharaoh!

Although we generally do not find ourselves in a position to save thousands of lives, we often do encounter situations where our assistance could prove critical. We learn from Yosef that when these situations arise we must not question ourselves. If we can help, we have the obligation to do so.

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Yaakov and his Sons: Why Did You Do That?!

Yaakov sends his sons to Egypt to purchase grain, and upon their return he hears of the trouble they encountered there. Specifically, the Egyptian viceroy imprisoned Shimon and demanded that the brothers bring him their youngest brother, Binyamin. Yaakov, however, outright refuses to allow Binyamin to go. As the famine conditions in Canaan intensify, Yaakov asks his sons once again to buy grain in Egypt, but they then remind him of the viceroy's strict orders not to return to Egypt without Binyamin. At this moment of frustration, Yaakov asks his sons, "Why have you wronged me, by telling the man that you have another brother?" (43:6).

On this verse the Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 91) comments, "Yaakov Avinu never said anything pointless ['davar shel batala'] except here. The Almighty said, 'I am busy making his son a ruler in Egypt - and he says, why have you wronged me?!'"

The power of this passage relates to the simple but critical message it conveys, and the everyday relevance of that lesson. Nothing constructive is served by this question Yaakov poses to his sons. The reason why they divulged their family information is of no use now, when they face the threat of starvation so long as Binyamin does not accompany them to Egypt. The Midrash therefore considers this question a "davar shel batala," a pointless remark on Yaakov's part. The great patriarch never uttered a non-constructive remark in his life, until now.

On one level, this teaches an important lesson in interpersonal relationships. When mistakes or oversights occur, one can only exacerbate the resulting difficult situation by asking the responsible party after the fact, "Why did you do that?" Nothing positive results from such questioning. The best - and only - way to deal with errors is to look ahead, pick up the pieces, and leave the mistakes of the past for memory.

The Midrash, however, points to a more inherently theological problem with non-constructive questioning of this sort. At times of crisis, the question of "why" is not only of less value than that of "what to do now," but also far less appropriate. As believers in an omniscient, all-powerful God infinitely greater than any of us, we firmly trust that everything in the world serves a purpose, one which, more often than not, eludes our comprehension. God does not ask us to decipher His master plan or identify the rationale behind the manner in which He conducts the world. Instead, He demands that we work to improve that world, under whatever conditions we happen to find it. The Midrash therefore criticizes Yaakov's question to his sons. Why things turned out the way they did should not interest him; he must rather conceon how to handle the difficult situation he now confronts.

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The Meaning of Menashe's Name

Many commentators have struggled to justify Yosef's remarks upon the birth of his eldest son, Menashe: "God has made me forget my hardship and my parental home" (41:51). He names his son after the word, "nashani," "has made me forget." How can Yosef express gratitude to God for having helped him forget his family? Perhaps more to the point, how could Yosef forget his family? Did he really just give up his entire past to establish himself in Egypt?

Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch expresses particular vehemence against attributing such a statement to Yosef. He claims that such an interpretation of this comment renders Yosef an insensitive, heartless man. He therefore presents a novel translation of the word "nashani," claiming that it evolves from the Hebrew word for creditor - "nosheh." Meaning, Yosef acknowledges that his troubles and difficult childhood, which seemed so tragic at the time, actually played a critical role in his ultimate good fortune. He therefore "owes a debt of gratitude" to his sorrowful past for laying the groundwork for his prosperous present.

An equally novel suggestion was offered by the "Tzeror Hamor." He claims that Yosef here refers to the longing for his family he experienced during his days in the Egyptian prison. He thanks the Almighty for helping him forget both his troubles and the painful yearnings for the warmth and security of his family that he felt throughout his years of incarceration.

A third interpretation is adopted by Rav Sa'adya Gaon. He explains that the word "hardship" in this verse actually modifies the following clause, as well: "my parental home." In other words, one must read the verse as follows: "God has made me forget my hardship and [the hardship of] my parental home." Yosef did not forget his past, Heaven forbid. He did, however, forget the troubles and difficulties suffered on account of the friction between him and his brothers. He expresses his appreciation for being able to forget the troubles of the past, though clearly retaining his emotional bond to his past in general.

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The Difference between Yosef's Intrpretation and that of the Advisors

Parashat Miketz opens with Pharaoh's mysterious dreams whose meaning eluded the royal advisors and was eventually disclosed by Yosef. As Rashi explains, the interpretations suggested by Pharaoh's aides did not convince the monarch. They understood the dream as foretelling the birth and subsequent untimely death of Pharaoh's seven daughters. The Midrash Rabba adds another suggestion offered, that Pharaoh will conquer seven kingdoms and then confront the rebellion of seven of his provinces.

The reason why Pharaoh found Yosef's interpretation more convincing is clear: a dream involving cows and sheaves more likely relates to agriculture than to family life or military campaigns. The question then arises, how did the royal advisors overlook this seemingly obvious interpretation? Why did they insist on looking for a meaning outside the realm of agriculture?

Rav Mordechai Sabato suggests that the difference between Yosef's interpretation and those of the advisors relates to the different theological approaches of monotheism and paganism. Yosef understood that God delivered a message to the Egyptian king in order to trigger a response. Meaning, a prophetic warning of impending crisis is meant specifically to help avoid the disaster. For the pagan advisors, such a notion was untenable. The disclosure of a divine plan whose discovery can lead to its annulment was, in their mind, ludicrous. As Rav Sabato explains, the existence of many deities necessarily translates into the limitation of the powers of each. The secrecy of their plans for mankind is therefore indispensable to the gods, so as to ensure that no other forces will interfere.

The belief in one God, by contrast, means the unlimited power of that deity. The Almighty therefore risks nothing by divulging information concerning His plans. To the contrary, He specifically seeks to assist man through the red signals sent via prophecy and similar media. For Yosef, God "had nothing to lose" by allowing advanced planning to help Egypt "outsmart" the devastating famine. Therefore, only Yosef successfully interpreted Pharaoh's dream to the king's liking.

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How Yosef Descended Through a Dream and Rose through a Dream

Parashat Miketz tells of Yosef's sudden rise from a prison cell in the Egyptian dungeons to the second highest position of political leadership in the strongest empire in the world. The Midrash Ha-gadol in the beginning of the parasha notes that both Yosef's original downfall and ultimate rise to greatness resulted from dreams. His dreams of superiority and leadership over his brothers fueled their flames of hatred towards him, which, as we know, reached their peak in Dotan as they sold Yosef into slavery. Parashat Miketz opens with Pharaoh's mysterious dream, which paved the road to glory for Yosef the inmate.

From here the Midrash concludes, "The Almighty - in the same manner in which He smites a person, he cures him."

We may, however, find more specific significance in the role played by these dreams in Yosef's whirlwind tour of slavery and glory. Indeed, the Midrash Ha-gadol earlier, in Parashat Vayeshev, states very simply, "Yosef descended through a dream and rose through a dream." This passage perhaps implies inherent meaning in the effect of these dreams on Yosef's life, irrespective of the Almighty's general tendency to "cure" in the same way He "smites."

Yosef's sale resulted not as much from the dreams per se but rather from his preoccupation therewith. Noting the expression, "Shimu na" (37:6), which denotes asking for permission, the Midrash Lekach Tov writes that Yosef had to beg his brothers to allow him to report his dream. He presumed that they would share his interest in his ambitions of leadership. Needless to say, they were not only disinterested in these dreams, they were disgusted by them. Yet, Yosef was so engrossed in his own ambition that he took for granted the enthusiastic response of his brothers, who had already harbored feelings of animosity towards him. Thus, Yosef's downfall resulted from his overindulgence in his own dreams.

Yosef realizes the fulfillment of these dreams only after he successfully interprets the dreams of others - the butler, the baker, and Pharaoh. Although dream interpretation certainly entails prophetic powers, it seemingly requires, at very least, a willingness on the part of the interpreter to carefully study the dreamer. To properly interpret dreams, one needs not only prophetic intuition, but the ability to consider the other individual's life experiences, worries, concerns, ambitions, drives, goals, frustrations, pain, etc. Only after Yosef can engage himself in the dreams of others can his dreams of leadership see fruition.

Hence, the Midrash tells us, "Yosef descended through a dream, and rose through a dream." He fell on account of his absorption in his own fantasies, and rose as a result of his ability to focus on the dreams of others.

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Reuven's Hidden Message in his Words to Yaakov

            In Parashat Miketz, we read that Yaakov sends his remaining sons to Egypt to purchase grain from the Egyptian vizier, who, unbeknownst to them, is none other than their missing brother, Yosef. Yosef accuses them of coming to Egypt to spy the country, and demands that they bring their youngest brother, Binyamin, as proof of their innocence. He keeps Shimon as prisoner in Egypt to guarantee the other brothers' return. But Yaakov refuses (initially) to allow Binyamin to join his brothers; having lost his first son from Rachel, Yaakov refuses to put Rachel's only other son, Binyamin, in a situation of danger.

            As Yaakov's sons try convincing him to allow Binyamin to go, Reuven, the oldest, employs a strikingly peculiar means of persuasion: "You may kill my two sons if I do not bring him back to you. Put him in my care, and I will return him to you" (42:37). Chazal, cited by Rashi (to 42:38), note the absurdity of this promise. Rashi writes, "He [Yaakov] did not accept Reuven's comments. He said: This is a foolish firstborn! He says he will kill his sons – are they only his sons, and not my sons?!" Reuven's pledge to kill his own sons, Yaakov's grandchildren, if he fails to bring Binyamin back safely, appears to defy reason. What possible explanation could there be for Reuven's offer?

            Rav Menachem Kasher (in Torah Sheleima) cites two approaches to understanding Reuven's promise. The "Minchat Yehuda" suggests that Reuven did not actually "offer" to kill his sons, but rather made this remark as an oath of sorts. It is as if he had said, "I am so confident that I can bring Binyamin back that I would be willing to bet my sons' lives on it." Others, such as the Taz (in his "Divrei David Turei Zahav") and the Chatam Sofer (in Torat Moshe and in responsa, O.C. end of 208), claim that Reuven promises to forfeit his sons' right to a share in Eretz Canaan, which he allegorically describes as "death."

            We may, however, suggest a different explanation. In the previous verse, Yaakov responds to the brothers' report of their experiences in Egypt. He wails, "You have bereaved me! Yosef is no more and Shimon is no more, and now you would take away Binyamin; these things always happen to me!" Why does Yaakov point an accusing finger at his sons, claiming that they "bereaved" him? Rashi writes: "This shows that he suspected that they killed him or sold him like [they did to] Yosef." Indeed, according to Rashi, Yaakov has begun entertaining thoughts of suspicion against his sons. Twice his sons have come to him and claimed that one of their brothers has disappeared or been captured. He cannot but wonder whether these nine brothers have taken some part in the loss of the other two.

            It is in response to this suspicion, perhaps, that Reuven declares, "You may kill my two sons if I do not bring him back." He tells his father that he can be trusted with Binyamin, and if he does not bring him back safely, then this will confirm Yaakov's suspicions that the brothers – himself in particular - eliminated Yosef and Shimon. Reuven then decrees his own sentence if this should indeed occur: he should lose his two sons, as punishment for, according to Yaakov's theory, having killed or sold his two brothers.

            If this is correct, then Reuven here also sends an encoded message to his brothers. He in effect says, "Father, you can trust me with Binyamin; I do not kill or sell my brothers." Yesterday, we suggested (based on Midrashim) that Reuven and his brothers had been entangled in a fundamental dispute as to how to respond to Yosef's dreams of leadership over the family. Whereas Reuven argued for the brothers' acceptance of Yosef, they, of course, vehemently decided upon his elimination. Reuven here subtly – or not so subtly – emphasizes to his brothers that he, unlike them, can be trusted with Binyamin, and Yaakov has no reason to suspect him as he suspects the others.

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