The Torah portion of Vayigash gives us a glimpse into their complex relationship, and the Rabbis of the Midrash, particularly in Bereshit Rabbah 91, unpack the nuances of this dramatic encounter.
It all starts when Joseph, now a powerful figure in Egypt, confronts his brothers. He demands they prove their sincerity by leaving one brother behind while the others return home to fetch their youngest brother, Benjamin. As Genesis 42:19-20 tells us, Joseph says, “If you are sincere, one of your brothers will be incarcerated in the place of your custody and you, go bring grain for the hunger of your houses… And bring your youngest brother to me and your statements will be verified, and you will not die.”
The brothers, unaware that Joseph understands them, begin to speak candidly amongst themselves. Genesis 42:21 recounts, "They said one to another: But we are guilty in our brother’s regard, that we saw the anguish of his soul, when he pleaded with us and we did not heed; that is why this anguish has befallen us.”
Here’s where the Rabbis dig a little deeper. Rabbi Abba bar Kahana points out that the word "aval" (but) in their statement, "aval we are guilty," might be a southern dialect for "truthfully." In other words, their guilt is not just a passing thought, but a deeply felt truth.
And what about Joseph's role in all this? Was he simply a passive victim? Rabbi Levi, in the name of Rabbi Yoḥanan bar She’ila, offers a compelling insight. The Midrash asks: "Is it possible that Joseph, at seventeen years old, would see his brothers selling him, and be silent?" Rather, he suggests, Joseph prostrated himself before each of his brothers, begging for mercy. According to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, Joseph pleaded, but his brothers remained unmoved.
Reuben, who initially tried to save Joseph, steps forward, reminding his brothers of his past warnings. Genesis 42:22 states, “Reuben responded to them, saying: Did I not speak to you, saying: Do not sin against the child, and you did not heed? And, indeed, here is a reckoning for his blood.” But the Midrash sees more in Reuben's words. He reminds them, according to Bereshit Rabbah, that they had plotted to kill Joseph, saying "Now let us go and kill him" (Genesis 37:20).
The phrase “indeed…his blood [vegam damo]” is particularly striking. The Midrash sees an inclusion here. Instead of just “his blood [vedamo]”, vegam (indeed) implies something more. Bereshit Rabbah suggests that this word includes the blood of his father, Jacob. How so? Perhaps it hints at the emotional pain and suffering that the brothers' actions inflicted upon their father.
All this time, Joseph is listening, but his brothers don't realize it. Genesis 42:23 tells us, “They did not know that Joseph understood, as the interpreter was between them.” And who was this interpreter? According to the Midrash, it was none other than Manasseh, Joseph’s own son!
The emotional weight of the situation becomes almost unbearable. Genesis 42:24 describes, “He turned from them and wept, and he returned to them; he spoke to them, and took Simeon from them, and incarcerated him before their eyes.” Rabbi Ḥagai, in the name of Rabbi Yitzḥak, adds a poignant detail: even as Joseph incarcerated Simeon, he secretly ensured he was well cared for – fed, given drink, bathed, and anointed. A fascinating contrast between outward severity and hidden compassion.
What does all this tell us? The story of Joseph and his brothers is more than just a tale of sibling rivalry and betrayal. It’s a profound exploration of guilt, repentance, and the enduring power of family ties. It shows us how past actions can haunt us, and how even in the midst of anger and pain, compassion can still find a way to emerge. As we find in Midrash Rabbah, even in moments of conflict, there are layers upon layers of emotion, hidden agendas, and the possibility for eventual reconciliation.
It leaves you wondering, doesn't it? About the complexities of forgiveness, and the long, winding road to healing fractured relationships.