Vayigash | Yosef's Tears

INTRODUCTION 

With the impassioned pleas of Yehuda that open Parashat VaYigash, the dramatic story of Yosef draws to a close.  Forcefully proclaiming his determination to not allow Binyamin to be seized by the Viceroy, lest their aged father Ya'acov succumb to grief and die, Yehuda stands firm.  "Now, then, let your servant remain in place of the lad as a servant to my master, while the lad goes with his brothers.  For how shall I return to my father without the lad with me, lest I see the evil that will overtake my father?!" (Bereishit 44:33-34).  

Finally convinced of his brothers' remorse, certain of their spiritual transformation, sure that they are sincere when they proclaim that they will not surrender Binyamin even at the cost of their freedom, Yosef reveals his true identity.  In a cathartic moment of rare intensity, Yosef himself raises his voice and weeps, his anguished cries of relief so vocal that they loudly echo through the august chambers of his palace.  For twenty-two years, since the day that his cruel brothers had ignored his anxious entreaties and had instead sold him to a passing camel train of Ishmaelite traders Egypt-bound, Yosef had wanted to cry, to cry for an old and doting father who had never ceased to mourn his disappearance, to cry for a family torn asunder by animosity and rage, to cry for a world in which the innocent often suffer immensely.  But with superhuman strength he had held back his tears, even as the coat of many colors had been wrenched from his youthful frame, even as he had been unjustly cast into the dank dungeon by a master he had esteemed, even as he had languished there for two additional years while the butler's solemn pledge was forgotten.  Now, seeing his brothers form a protective phalanx around his own beloved Binyamin, hearing Yehuda's pathetic and poignant pleas for compassion, remembering in his mind's eye a far-off land and a promise and a precious legacy, Yosef can restrain himself no longer. 

YOSEF'S OTHER TEARS 

Actually, though, this is not the first time that we have seen Yosef shedding tears.  When his brothers first descended to Egypt in search of grain, Yosef immediately recognized them and quickly was able to ascertain that the crime of his sale and presumed death had never been resolved.  While Yosef had been tempered by his experiences to recognize God's guiding hand, and had shed his youthful self-centeredness to don the substantial mantle of responsibility for others, his brothers had never undergone a similar transformation.  In their ancient animosities they had remained locked, their father's anguish they had never assuaged, their own diabolism they had never faced.  And so Yosef patiently but deliberately brought them to painful but liberating self-realization by a carefully contrived series of incremental orchestrations.  Most remarkably, though, as their mental defenses crumbled and the harsh truth stung their callous hearts with first misgivings, then regret and finally restorative teshuva, Yosef cried with them: 

"If you are honest" (said the Viceroy), "let one of your brothers be imprisoned under guard while you go to bring grain for your famished household.  But your youngest brother you must then bring to me so that your claims (of innocence) be substantiated, lest you die", and they resolved to do so.  Then they began to say to each other: "Surely we are guilty concerning our brother, for we watched his pained plight as he called out to us for compassion but we would not hearken, and therefore this trouble has now come upon us!"  Reuven said to them: "did I not say to you not to sin against the boy but you would not listen, and behold his blood has now been required!"  But the brothers did not realize that Yosef understood them because the interpreter stood between.  HE TURNED AWAY FROM THEM AND CRIED, but then he returned and spoke, seizing Shim'on and arresting him before their eyes (42:19-24). 

The brothers returned to Canaan, fearful and anxious, their minds racing with the phantoms of their once-remote but now looming misdemeanor, but the homecoming afforded them no relief.  Facing their father, they attempted to explain the strange accusations leveled against them by the Viceroy and then tried to convince the old and broken man to allow precious Binyamin to leave his protective embrace!  But Ya'acov was terribly reluctant, remembering only too well (as he reminded them also) that with similar inexplicable suddenness he had lost beloved Yosef.  In the end, though, famine won the day and to Egypt they returned.  There, Yosef awaited them, first lowering their guard with a grand show of magnanimity, but then crushing their final resistance with the ploy of the stolen goblet of silver, now planted in Binyamin's sack!  But in the interim, as they supped on delicacies with him and he plied them with pleasantries as well as probing questions, he recognized Binyamin: 

He lifted his gaze and saw Binyamin his brother, the son of his mother, and he said: "Is this your youngest brother that you spoke of?"  He then said "May God show His grace to you, my son!"  Quickly, Yosef (excused himself), for his compassions for his brother were aroused, and HE FELT THE NEED TO CRY.  HE ENTERED THE CHAMBER AND CRIED THERE.  He then washed his face and emerged…(43:29-30). 

The opening cry of our Parasha, then, is Yosef's third and most pronounced bout of tears, and it is immediately followed by further crying as he embraces Binyamin (who cries in turn) and then kisses all of his brothers as he cries once more.  In the end, Yosef cries a penultimate time, as he embraces his dying father Ya'acov at the end of the latter's life (Bereishit 50:1), and then a further final time as his brothers implore his mercy (Bereishit 50:17).  There is, in fact, no Biblical character that cries as many times as Yosef!  While the Torah mentions the shedding of tears concerning Hagar (Bereishit 21:16), Avraham (Bereishit 23:2), 'Esav (Bereishit 27:38; 33:4), Ya'acov (Bereishit 29:11; 33:4; 37:35 – also in the context of Yosef's disappearance), the infant Moshe (Shemot 2:6), Moshe and the congregation (BeMidbar 25:6), the people of Israel (BeMidbar 11:10; 14:1; 20:29; Devarim 34:8), and even Egypt (Bereishit 50:3 – again in the context of Yosef, this time concerning Ya'acov's death), none of these other protagonists can match Yosef for either frequency or intensity. 

A FINAL EPISODE OF CRYING 

There is, however, one final episode of crying concerning Yosef that is perhaps the most poignant of all, but here the commentaries part ways in a most startling fashion.  After Yosef reveals himself and calms his brother's alarm, he makes concrete plans for the family's descent to Egypt.  Providing his brothers with ample provisions as well as wagons issued by Pharaonic decree, Yosef quickly dispatches them with instructions to bring Ya'acov and the entire household down to Goshen.  Ya'acov is at first taken aback by the breathless news of Yosef's survival, but he eventually is convinced by the sight of the royal wagons, and his broken spirit is revived.  The preparations are made, the household is packed, and the wheels of the laden ass-drawn carts begin to creak and turn.  Taking leave of the sacred earth of Canaan for the final time (for he will return to it only after his demise), Ya'acov is filled with misgivings, but he cannot deny the destiny that God has placed before him.  For many days the caravan travels, turning westwards after Be'er Sheva to follow the coastal route down to Egypt.  All the while, Ya'acov's thoughts focus upon Yosef, his beloved Yosef, who was but a youth of seventeen when Ya'acov had sent him on that fateful journey towards Shechem from which he had never returned.  Although twenty-two years had elapsed, the memory of the events, the guilt and the anguish, were still fresh in Ya'acov's mind.  And now he would be finally reunited! 

He sent Yehuda before him to Yosef, to pave their way to Goshen, and they arrived in the land of Goshen.  Yosef hitched his chariot and went up to greet his father Yisrael at Goshen.  He appeared before him, he fell upon his neck, and he cried upon his neck uncontrollably.  Yisrael said to Yosef: "Now I am ready to die, after I have seen your face, for you are still alive!" (Bereishit 46:28-30). 

While the text employs a maddening series of pronouns to describe the moment of their embrace, all indications point to Yosef as the subject of the cries: "He (Yosef) appeared before him (Ya'acov), he (Yosef) fell upon his (Ya'acov's) neck, and he (Yosef) cried upon his neck (Ya'acov's) uncontrollably".  Surely the pattern of crying that has so far characterized sensitive Yosef is not to be broken now!  He had cried for his estranged brothers, he had cried for Binyamin, and now he completes the circle of tears by crying for his aged father.  Rashi (11^th century, France) tells us as much when he exclaims: "Yosef appeared before his father…and cried greatly upon him" (commentary to Bereishit 46:29).  According to Rashi, Yosef, who is clearly the subject of verse 29 ("Yosef hitched his chariot and went up to greet his father Yisrael at Goshen"), is also the subject of verse 30 ("HE appeared before him, HE fell upon his neck, and HE cried upon his neck uncontrollably").  

A STRIKING DENOUEMENT 

But now Rashi goes further, introducing a most remarkable statement of the Sages: "…as for Ya'acov, he neither fell upon Yosef's neck in embrace nor even kissed him.  Our Sages maintain that he was instead reciting the Shema!" 

How are we to understand this unusual tradition, that refuses to ascribe to Ya'acov any eminently reasonable tears and instead describes the most touching and anticipated embrace as an occasion for Ya'acov to busy himself with the ritual recital of the Shema?  The question is amplified, by the way, by the fact that the Shema (Devarim 6:4-9) is a Biblical passage that was not formally communicated to the people of Israel until centuries after Ya'acov's death!  Clearly, the Sages did not intend for their words to be taken literally.  Even the Ramban (13^th century, Spain), usually a staunch defender of the Midrashic traditions, makes no attempts to either adopt or else advocate Rashi's reading.  Rather, the "recitation of the Shema", just as it is today in its more formal structure, is a concise statement about the intertwined truths of God's unity, transcendence and sovereignty.  Elsewhere, the Sages speak of the Shema as "the acceptance of the yoke of Heaven" (Mishna Berakhot 2:2), the complete emotional and spiritual acknowledgement of Divine authority that must precede any meaningful acceptance of God's laws.  But because the Shema expresses utter subservience to God's will, it also implies acceptance of His judgement.  We acquiesce to His will even when we fail to comprehend it.  Not surprisingly, the Sages derived the related concept of a person's obligation to "bless God concerning the evil just as he blesses Him concerning the good" from the text of the Shema itself: 

The verse states "You shall love God with all of your heart, all of your soul and all of your might" (Devarim 6:5)…all of your might implies that no matter what measure He metes out to you, acknowledge it and be exceedingly grateful for it…(Mishna Berakhot 9:5).  

TZIDDUK HADIN – THE ACCEPTANCE OF GOD'S JUDGEMENT 

For twenty-two years, Ya'acov pined for his missing son and never was comforted.  For twenty-two years he cried silently, his aged and infirm back bent over by the tragedy of Yosef's presumed death, and by the crippling guilt that he, Ya'acov, had precipitated it.  While the commentaries have often questioned the brothers' conduct in withholding the truth from Ya'acov, the truth that could have relieved some of the pain and perhaps even led to an earlier reunion, there was another Accomplice to their deed who also remained silent all of those years.  Rashi himself was clearly bothered by the issue, for he finds it necessary to mitigate the Accomplice's culpability by suggesting that He too was sworn to secrecy by the brothers (see his commentary to 37:33)!  But one cannot dismiss the matter so easily.  When God wished to communicate with Ya'acov, He did so, and not less than five exchanges are recorded between God and the patriarch (Bereishit 28:13; 31:11; 32:29; 35:1; 35:9).  But here, for reasons inexplicable to human minds, God remained silent and never alleviated Ya'acov's plight.  Now it is true that Rashi mentions on at least two occasions that Ya'acov was at least afforded an inkling that Yosef was still alive (see his commentary to 37:33 and 42:1), a faint spark of Divine inspiration that was just sufficient to sustain, but more than that was never bestowed upon his crushed spirit. 

Now, standing before Yosef the Viceroy, those futile years already spent and irretrievable forever, Ya'acov is not bitter.  The God whom he has championed, the God whom he has followed, the God whom he has never doubted but has often striven with, is now forgiven.  Ya'acov recites the Shema and wholeheartedly accepts God's inscrutable judgement as Yosef his beloved son sobs uncontrollably.  And so the account is finished.  The saga of faith and trust that is the story of Yosef, the tale of spiritual growth that is its hallmark, the restoration to God and to the authentic and most profound self that are its closing imprimatur, all of these strands now come together in the tears and in the Shema that at last complete it. 

Shabbat Shalom  

For further study: see the commentary of the Ramban who connects the pronouns of 46:30 above to the verse that follows "Yisrael said to Yosef: "Now I am ready to die, after I have seen your face, for you are still alive!" (46:31), and therefore maintains that it was YA'ACOV who cried uncontrollably at the meeting with his son, while Yosef stoically supported him.  The Ramban concludes his remarks with a profound observation: "It is indeed well known whose tears come more easily, whether the old father who finds his beloved son alive after years of despair and mourning, or else the young son who has in the interim become a king!" (commentary to 46:29-30).  While it is impossible to dispute the cogency of the Ramban's psychology, here the matter may be different.  Yosef is not a king like other kings, for as demonstrated above he shows an unusual sensitivity.  The story of his reconciliation with his brothers and his family is characterized by flowing tears from beginning to end, for Yosef cries no less than seven times, not including our disputed passage!  Surely in the fateful meeting between Yosef and Ya'acov, the son, though in the meantime he had have achieved greatness and glory that had helped to alleviate the sorrow (see Yosef's names for his two children born after his elevation to the position of Viceroy – Bereishit 41:51-52), could not remain silent and impassive!