Dropping a Bombshell                

Rabbi Reuven Mann

This week’s parsha, Vayigash, contains the most emotional and disconcerting story in the entire Torah, so gripping that it can very easily bring us to tears.

Who would not want to have been a “fly on the wall” when Yosef cleared the room and suddenly blurted out, “I am Yosef, is my father still alive? And his brothers could not answer him because they were in shock before him.”

We can imagine the brothers’ emotional state upon hearing this. They could not have imagined this in their worst nightmares. Yosef’s sudden declaration had the force of a knockout punch.

Indeed we must ask, why did Yosef choose to break the explosive news this way? You must be careful about conveying “startling information” to a person. If someone has unexpectedly lost a parent or child, you don’t confront him and blurt out the terrible news. At the very least, this would be considered unforgivably thoughtless and even  hostile.

Rather, you would reveal the news slowly and indirectly to help the person adjust to the devastating information.

This is illustrated by a poignant Talmudic story. Bruria, a great Torah scholar, was married to Rabbi Meir. On a Shabbat, while he was in shul, their two sons suddenly died. Bruria waited for her husband to return, and when he inquired about his sons, she asked him to make havdalah. After that, she prepared the Melaveh Malka repast. She asked him, “If someone had left a deposit with you and now reclaims it, are you obligated to give it back?”

“Of course!” replied Rabbi Meir incredulously. She then led him to the bedroom and removed the sheet covering the children. When her husband burst out in tears she calmly said, “It is as you said, Hashem has given and Hashem has taken. May the name of Hashem be blessed.”

The most basic lesson to learn from this is that we must be careful and deliberate in communicating devastating tidings. Wouldn’t this apply to Yosef’s monumental revelation to his unsuspecting siblings that he was their brother?

I am not aware of anyone who raises or addresses this issue, so it calls for a bit of speculation on my part. At first glance, one might try to explain this by pointing to the verse that comes at the end of Yehudah’s dramatic plea, which says that Yosef “could not restrain himself among all those standing around him....” You might say that he handled the matter impulsively, because  the pressure of his emotions was overpowering. However, I don’t accept that. 

Yosef had the presence of mind to remove everyone from the room to spare his brothers any embarrassment, and we should assume that he had given much thought to the way he would reveal himself when the right moment came.

I believe that there is a rational explanation. Rabbi Elazar said that whenever he came to this verse, he would cry and say, “if the rebuke of flesh and blood had such an effect [on the brothers], how much more so the rebuke of the Holy One, Blessed is He.”

At first glance, this statement is very strange. How can Yosef’s words be construed as a rebuke? He merely said that he was Yosef and asked if his father was still alive. Indeed, that very question is problematic. The previous day when he received his brothers at his home he asked about Yaakov and was assured that he was fine. Why did he see fit to repeat that query now? What new information could they possibly have to offer?

This perplexing verse has vexed many commentators. Rabbi Israel Chait explained that Yosef was not inquiring if Yaakov was still alive, a fact he already knew. Rather the key words in that sentence are “my father.”

Yosef wanted to know if the precious father-son relationship he had previously enjoyed with Yaakov was still intact or renewable.

What motivated Yosef’s concern? He alone realized how painful losing him would be to Yaakov. So much so, that he might not be able to survive psychologically. When a person  experiences an unbearable loss, he sometimes goes to the extreme of uprooting all mental memories and links to the loved one from his psyche. It’s as though the person had never lived in the first place. This psychological distortion comes at a great price, but it’s the only way the bereaved party can survive.

That’s what Yosef meant. If Yaakov had gone to such extreme mental measures, that he had completely forgotten Yosef, then he was no longer his father, and it was possible that the relationship could never be restored.

Indeed, the Torah records that when the brothers returned to Canaan and informed Yaakov that Yosef was still alive and was the ruler of Egypt, “his heart became faint, because he did not believe them.” Yaakov could not allow himself to become vulnerable to the extreme pain of “losing Yosef again.” He came that close to the dreaded state of disassociation and alienation from his beloved son. Fortunately, the brothers were able to ease him into reinstating this most precious relationship.

We can now understand the “crying” of Rabbi Elazar. Yosef’s announcement was indeed a rebuke, for when the brothers sold Yosef, they underestimated  the effect it would have on their father. They thought he would mourn and get over it. They had no concern that he would become a perpetual mourner and go down to the grave in bereavement. Yosef’s declaration was an extreme rebuke, which shocked them into utter silence.

We can now understand why Yosef did not “break the news gently.” The aim of his communication was to chastise them and enable them to recognize the full dimensions of  their sin, which they had avoided until now. Such a serious criticism cannot be tempered or delivered hesitantly. It had to upset the brothers’ complacency, pierce through all their resistances, and produce a “moment of clarity.”

This is what caused Rabbi Elazar to cry. He realized that we have all committed hurtful actions whose great harm we underestimate, due to our self-serving rationalizations. But we should be concerned about the Day of Judgment, when the King of Kings will reveal to us all the misdeeds we have conveniently overlooked.

We can learn much from this narrative. Let us think deeply about our own questionable behaviors and consider all of their consequences. We should constantly remember that “all our deeds are recorded in a book,” and that nothing is hidden from His sight. May this awareness protect us from sin and inspire us to genuine righteousness.

P.S. My new book Eternally Yours on Genesis contains essays that relate the Torah’s teachings to virtually all areas of life. Some titles include, “Is Love Possible In The Narcissistic Era?” “Why Do I Sin?” “May A Parent Have Favorites?” “The Problem Of Jealousy.” “Warren Buffet’s Butler.” And many more. The book will add a new dimension of appreciation for the weekly Torah reading. You can obtain it at http://bit.ly/EY-Genesis

Shabbat shalom.