JANUARY 5 • 2023 | 43

stick to [Joseph’s brothers]. Like Lady 
Macbeth, unable to get the blood of the 
murdered king off her hands, they cannot 
get away from the bloody silver.” 

A CALL FOR REFLECTION
Accused of theft, Joseph’s brothers return 
to Egypt, where he confronts them: 
“What is this deed that you have done?” 
(mah ha-ma’aseh asher asitem) (44:15). On 
the surface, of course, he appears to be 
asking about the (purportedly) stolen 
silver cup. But as Schlimm points out, the 
question has a deeper and more funda-
mental resonance. Recall God’s words to 
Eve after she and Adam eat of the forbid-
den fruit in Eden: “What is this you have 
done?!” (mah zot asit) (3:13), and to Cain 
after he slays his brother: “What have 
you done?!” (meh asita) (4:10). Like God’s 
words in those two foundational stories, 
“Joseph’s question is a call for reflection 
on all that has transpired, both in the 
immediate and in the distant past.” That 
is why, Schlimm observes, Joseph speaks 
in the plural (the Hebrew atem, rather 
than atah), even though he claims he is 
only interested in the one brother who 
has acted wrongly in this instance. 
Joseph thus afflicts his brothers over a 
period of years, punishing them for what 
they had once done to him. But he does 
more than just mete out punishment. He 
also tries to shock them and shake them, 
to disorient them so much that they are 
forced to ask how they ended up in this 
horrific situation. The strategy seems to 
work. After being falsely accused of spy-
ing and told that they will have no choice 
but to bring their youngest brother down 
to Egypt, they begin to search themselves: 
“They said to one another, ‘
Alas, we are 
being punished on account of our broth-
er, because we looked on his anguish, 
yet paid no heed as he pleaded with 
us. That is why this distress has come 
upon us” (42:21). Perhaps there is even 
more: Perhaps Joseph jars and unsettles 
them in such extreme ways because he 
wants to see whether they have changed. 
Perhaps if they have let go of their hatred 
of him, he can forgive them. In a deeply 
poignant moment, as soon as he hears 
them express remorse, Joseph “turned 

away from them and wept” (42:23). The 
regret on the part of the culprits does not 
erase past injuries, but it does mitigate 
the severity of Joseph’s pain — or, at very 
least, it sets that process in motion.
This slow, torturous tale now comes 
to an astonishing resolution. Faced with 
the impending unjust imprisonment of 
his youngest brother, Judah steps forward 
and insists that he should be incarcer-
ated in Benjamin’s place. Having once 
hatched the plan to sell Joseph into slav-
ery (37:26), Judah is now willing to be 
enslaved rather than allow a “recurrence 
of past evils.”
Whereas he and his brothers once dis-
played brazen indifference to the pain 
their actions would cause their father, 
Judah now seems passionately concerned 
with Jacob’s well-being: “For how can I go 
back to my father unless the boy is with 
me? Let me not be witness to the woe 
that would overtake my father!” (44:34). 
Judah, it seems, is a changed man, a para-
gon of repentance. Joseph is so moved by 
this display that he can no longer contain 
himself — sobbing, he reveals his true 
identity to them (45:1-4). Stunningly, he 
encourages them to forgive themselves, 
averring that God had been working 
behind the scenes, sending Joseph to 
Egypt to “save life” and ensure his family’s 
survival in the face of prolonged famine 
(45:5-7). 
In this moment, the text, in its quiet, 
subtle way, signals how much has really 
changed. Joseph embraces his brother 
Benjamin and they both weep. And then, 
Genesis tells us, “He kissed all his brothers 
and wept upon them, and afterwards his 
brothers spoke with him” (45:15). 
Recall how this long and harrowing 
saga began: Joseph’s brothers could not 
speak a friendly word to him (37:4). Now, 
finally, it seems, after all of the tribula-
tions the family has endured, they do just 
that.

THE POWER OF 
COMFORTING SPEECH
And then, in this week’s parashah, comes 
another exquisitely moving moment. 
Jacob dies, sending Joseph’s brothers 
into a panic. They again fear that Joseph 

still bears a grudge against them and 
will make them pay for their past crimes 
(50:15) — living testimony to just how 
difficult it can be to believe that those 
we have wronged have truly forgiven us. 
They beg for Joseph’s mercy and declare, 
“Here we are, slaves to you!” (50:18). But 
Joseph’s response demonstrates how pro-
foundly he, too, has changed: “Have no 
fear! Am I a substitute for God?” (50:19). 
We have already seen the depth of 
Judah’s repentance and transformation. 
Now look at Joseph. As a young man, 
he had dreamed of his brothers bowing 
down to him, of being lord over them 
(37:5-11). Now, with the fulfillment of his 
grandiose dreams before him, he repudi-
ates his dreams and embraces his brothers 
instead. He makes unequivocally clear 
that he has no illusions of being God and 
no need for his brothers to be his ser-
vants or slaves. Where they fear he will 
enact vengeance upon them, he instead 
promises to support and care for them 
and their children. Joseph may well have 
harbored fantasies of hurting his brothers 
and exacting revenge — and here, finally, 
is his chance. But with his father dead 
and his brothers at his mercy, what does 
he do? He forgives them, insisting that 
punishment is God’s prerogative rather 
than his. And then, again, the poignant 
refrain: “He comforted them and spoke 
kindly to them (lit. spoke to their hearts)” 
(vayedaber al libam) (50:23). Joseph and 
his family have discovered the power of 
comforting speech.
Sarah’s failure is Joseph’s success; what 
she forgets, he at last remembers. Fully 
conscious of his power to wound those 
who have wounded him, Joseph instead 
heeds a commandment Moses will soon 
receive: not to take revenge or bear a 
grudge (Leviticus 19:18). Sometimes peo-
ple achieve greatness through the use of 
power. But in this remarkable moment, 
Joseph models a different kind of great-
ness: the majesty of restraint. 

Rabbi Shai Held, theologian, scholar and educator, 

is president and dean at Hadar. He has taught both 

theology and Halachah at the Jewish Theological 

Seminary and also served as director of education at 

Harvard Hillel. This essay was written in 2013.

