The story of Joseph and his brothers, as told in Genesis, is a classic example. But what happens after the happy reunion, after Jacob's death and the grand funeral procession back to Canaan? That's where things get really interesting, and where Bereshit Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations of Genesis, sheds some fascinating light.
"Joseph returned to Egypt, he, and his brothers, and everyone who went up with him to bury his father, after he buried his father," the Book of Genesis tells us (50:14). Seems straightforward, right? But then comes the kicker: "Joseph’s brothers saw that their father had died, and they said: Perhaps Joseph will hate us, and will repay us for all the evil that we did to him" (Genesis 50:15).
Why this sudden fear? Hadn't Joseph already forgiven them? Bereshit Rabbah dives into their anxieties, offering several explanations. Rabbi Levi and Rabbi Yitzchak suggest a rather human reason: Joseph didn't invite his brothers to eat with him, unlike before Jacob's death. It seems a small thing, but in that culture, sharing a meal was a powerful symbol of kinship and trust. The absence of that invitation spoke volumes.
But wait, was Joseph being vengeful? Rabbi Tanhuma offers a different perspective. He suggests Joseph's actions were "for the sake of Heaven." Joseph reasoned that, with his father gone, it was no longer appropriate for him to sit above his older brothers, Judah (the future king) and Reuben (the firstborn). A humble and thoughtful gesture, perhaps?
Yet, as the text emphasizes, "that is not what they said, but rather: 'Perhaps Joseph will hate us.'" Fear and guilt can distort our perceptions, can't they?
Rabbi Yitzchak offers another intriguing detail: Joseph went and peered into the pit – that very pit where his brothers had thrown him so many years ago. Imagine the emotions swirling within him at that moment! Rabbi Tanhuma again interprets this in a positive light, suggesting Joseph went to recite a blessing for being saved from the snakes and scorpions that might have been lurking there (Shabbat 22a; Bereshit Rabba 84:16). A moment of gratitude and reflection. Still, the brothers only saw a threat: "Perhaps Joseph will hate us."
Then comes the most poignant part. "They instructed to tell Joseph, saying: Your father instructed before his death, saying, so say to Joseph: Please, forgive the transgression of your brothers and their sin as they did evil to you. And now, please forgive the transgression of the servants of the God of your father. Joseph wept as they spoke to him” (Genesis 50:16–17).
Did Jacob really say that? Rabbi Shimon ben Gamliel, in a powerful statement, says that the brothers fabricated the whole thing. "Great is peace," he declares, "as even the tribes spoke fabricated matters in order to impose peace between Joseph and the tribes." The end justifies the means, it seems, when it comes to preserving harmony. Where did Jacob instruct them? We don't find any record of it. The brothers invented a message, hoping to assuage Joseph's anger.
And Joseph's reaction? He wept. “This is how my brothers are suspicious of me?” he asked, heartbroken. He had forgiven them, but their fear and distrust cut deep.
Finally, "His brothers too, went and fell before him and they said: Behold, we are your slaves” (Genesis 50:18). Overcome with guilt and fear, they offer themselves as slaves. “You wanted one of us as a slave," they seem to say, "here all of us are your slaves." A complete surrender.
What does it all mean? Bereshit Rabbah 100, through these insightful interpretations, reveals the lasting power of past trauma, the difficulty of truly forgiving and being forgiven, and the ever-present need for communication and trust. It reminds us that even after reconciliation, old wounds can linger, and the fear of betrayal can be a potent force.
It also highlights the lengths people will go to in order to achieve peace. Were the brothers justified in their deception? Was Joseph truly as forgiving as he seemed? The text leaves us with these questions, prompting us to consider the complexities of human relationships and the enduring challenges of family dynamics. And perhaps, to examine our own fears and suspicions, and the stories we tell ourselves about those around us.