January 1, 2009
And the brothers] told [Jacob] all the words that Joseph had spoken to them, and when [Jacob] saw the wagons [agalot] that Joseph had sent to transport him, the spirit of Jacob their father was revived. And Yisrael said, “It is sufficient; my son Yosef is still alive. I shall go and see him before I die.” (Genesis 45:27, 28)
Why doesn’t Joseph travel up to Israel to see his aged father? Why does Jacob make the difficult journey to Egypt to meet his son? Logic and filial respect suggest that the younger child should make the effort to meet the older parent.
Undoubtedly when first hearing the amazing news that his beloved Joseph is not only alive but is also the revered and powerful grand vizier of Egypt, Jacob must be bowled over with jubilance and gratitude to God.
But as the reality of Joseph’s being alive takes root, many thoughts and emotions must race through the patriarch’s mind. How did Joseph get to Egypt? Did he abandon his Abrahamic homestead and destiny, opting to take to his heels when his father sent him on a mission to check on his unfriendly brothers, embarking instead on his own ambitious journey toward acquiring those sheaves of grain that he had dreamed about by night and talked about by day?
But it was the brothers who had brought Jacob the bloodied cloak of many colors, seemingly the only remains of a son devoured by wild beasts. Was it Joseph himself who left the cloak behind, a false clue symbolic of his desire to forsake the family in favor of a new lifestyle? Might it even be — heaven forbid — that the brothers themselves had sold Joseph, their own flesh and blood, into Egyptian slavery and then covered up their unthinkable deed with the bloodied cloak?
As the old man pushes aside this latter possibility — confronting his sons would only bring about an irreparable break in the fragile family fabric precisely when his sons were finally about to come together — the dismayed frustration begins to center on Joseph.
How could the beloved heir act so callously regarding his father? No matter how Joseph had reached Egypt, shouldn’t he have sent word via a messenger to inform his depressed and disconsolate father he was still alive? He certainly knew how much his father loved him! Jacob’s elation may well have turned to disappointed anger aimed at Joseph: “I am overjoyed that you are alive, but how could you have refrained from contacting me sooner?”
Immediately after informing us that the brothers told Jacob all that the grand vizier had revealed to them, the verse concludes, “And when [Jacob] saw the agalot that Joseph had sent to transport him, the spirit of Jacob their father was revived.” (45:27) Rashi comments that the agalot were a sign Joseph sent to his father, reminding him that the last biblical portion they had studied together was that of the beheaded heifer (egel, a play on agala, or wagon, which was usually “heifer-drawn”).
The connection, however, is deeper than linguistic. The Bible (Deuteronomy 21:1-9) ordains that if a corpse murdered by an unknown assailant is discovered between two cities, the elders of the nearest city must bring a heifer sacrifice, declaring “…our hands did not shed this blood,” followed by a request for atonement. Responsibility falls on their shoulders because apparently they had neglected to supply the requisite social services for the poor; greater sensitivity would no doubt have prevented the tragedy.
Joseph was gently reminding his father that he, Jacob, should have been more sensitive to the tragedy that could arise from a father’s blatant favoritism of one child. (B.T. Shabbat 10b) Joseph may be hinting that on some level he still harbors resentment toward his father and had never contacted him because he saw a direct link between his father’s questionable familial management and his “favorite” son’s death sentence in the pit, “commuted” at the last minute to a life sentence as a slave in Egypt.
The heifer is also a symbol of atonement. Built into the “wagon-heifer” is Joseph’s message to his father that he forgives the elder’s insensitivity, that Joseph (now a father himself) understands the complexities of parenthood, that his father’s transgression is especially forgivable because it emanated not from too-little love but from too-much love and from the special feelings his father had for his beloved, deceased wife, Rachel, and her son.
Joseph also forgives his father because he has learned from his elder brother Judah the importance of taking responsibility. Judah will do whatever needs to be done to discharge his responsibility that Benjamin return safely to Jacob, even if it means that he, Judah, will become a slave. Joseph realizes that he acted arrogantly toward his brothers, that he exacerbated their jealousy and hatred by telling them his supercilious dreams, that despite his father’s almost vulgar favoritism, he himself must take responsibility for their hatred and for having been sold as a slave.
And so Jacob accepts responsibility for his son’s resentment and understands why he had not contacted him earlier. “It is enough that my son is alive,” he says, and I shall no longer waste time apportioning blame. With the exception of the most abnormal circumstances, a child who severs relationships with a parent is cutting him/herself off from his/her essential essence, and a parent who severs a relationship with a child is cutting him/herself off from his/her existential future. Parents, children, and siblings are inextricably bound together. This is what Jacob and Joseph learn.
Shlomo Riskin is the chief rabbi of the city of Efrat and dean of Ohr Torah Institutes in Israel.
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