Rabbi Ari Kahn
Parashat Miketz 5776
Crime and Punishment
The new chapter in the lives of Yaakov’s
sons had started innocently enough: A famine in Canaan gave rise to a trip to
Egypt to procure food. On the one hand, the brothers told themselves that they
were doing what their father had asked them, and surely, in the merit of their filial
devotion they would be protected and no evil would befall them. On the other
hand, just below the surface of their conscious thoughts, they knew - even if
their father had no inkling – that they were not the loyal and obedient sons Yaakov
thought they were. They had conspired to kill their brother and in the end had
“only” sold him. If they were relying on their track records as good sons to
see them through, they had good reason to worry.
Surely, their destination did nothing to
calm their jittery subconscious: Egypt, of all places! That was the direction
that their “dearly” departed brother Yosef was headed when he was thrown out of
the family – sold off like discarded property. Deep down they must have known:
This trip would not be easy. Something would go wrong. And so, as soon as they
attempt to purchase the much-needed supplies, they are attacked; falsely
accused of espionage, they are thrown into a pit, the dungeon of the Egyptian
prison.
Three days later, all but Shimon are
released; he is held over as some strange sort of collateral. However, their
time in prison jarred their memory, and their subconscious broke through to the
surface; they finally gave voice to the submerged guilt that had been gnawing
its way to the surface:
They said to one
another, 'We are guilty because of what we did to our brother. We saw him
suffering when he pleaded with us, but we would not listen. That's why this
great misfortune has come upon us now.' (Bereishit 42:21)
The bizarre chain of events could not be
coincidental: Once again, they were heading back home – but leaving one brother
behind. This time, though, the “abandoned” brother was Shimon, who had been the
chief instigator in the sale of Yosef. And this
is only the beginning; the pressure continues to ratchet its way up to the
boiling point. First, one of the bothers finds that the money with which he had
purchased grain from to the Egyptians had somehow returned to his bag. Soon all
the brothers find their money similarly returned to them. On a practical level,
this was disturbing; they knew they would eventually have to return and face
the Egyptian leader who was as intimidating as he was formidable. How in the
world would they explain this - especially after already having been accused of
serious crimes? But on a deeper level, on the level of their guilty conscience,
their situation was all the more ominous: Years earlier, when they “left” Yosef
behind, they had exchanged him for coins. Now, once again, they made their way
home with coins in their bags that clinked and jingled and rattled their nerves
– but no brother. The “coincidence” was eerie, unsettling. With each step they
take, the sale of Yosef forces itself back onto center stage, coming into
ever-sharper focus as it morphs from a dull, distant memory into very sharp
pangs of guilt from which they cannot hide.
After some time and effort, Yaakov is
finally prevailed upon to allow the brothers to return to Egypt, and to take
Binyamin with them. All of the brothers’ pleading and cajoling ineffective,
until Yehudah speaks up. It is surely no coincidence that the last time Yehudah
took the lead, the last time he spoke up and rallied others around him, was
when he convinced his brothers to sell Yosef.
The brothers return to Egypt, present
Binyamin, and redeem Shimon; all seems well. They are invited to sit as a
family and enjoy a meal together, unaware that their table is more complete
than they imagine. They have no reason to guess that their twelfth brother is sitting
with them, eating and drinking with them. The last time we saw the brothers
sitting down to share a meal, their table was far less complete: Yosef was
screaming for mercy from the bottom of the pit, and then their repast was
interrupted by the merchants who so fortuitously happened to ride by and take
Yosef off their hands once and for all – or so they thought.
And now the family is whole, at least in
a certain sense. What was Yosef’s strategy? Perhaps his accusation that they
were spies was intended to preclude the brothers from asking probing questions
about the strange Egyptian despot who had taken such an intense interest in
Yaakov’s family.
The meal comes to an end; provisions are
procured, and the brothers are lulled into a false sense of security as they
take their leave and return home. They are, they believe, whole again: Binyamin
is with them, Shimon has been returned, and they can go home and see their
father; Yaakov’s premonitions of disaster had proven false and their own fears
unfounded.
There was, however, one brother who,
unbeknownst to them, watched from afar as they rode away. He knew what they
could not admit: They had left something – or, more accurately, someone -
behind, someone they had underestimated from the very beginning. They had
mocked him: Will we ever bow to you, they jeered? In fact, they had. Would you
rule over us, they laughed? Indeed, that is precisely what had come to pass.
Even sitting at the same table with him, the brothers were still blind to
Yosef’s greatness, blind to capabilities.
Their false sense of security was soon
abruptly shattered: Yosef’s soldiers caught up to them with a new set of
accusations: Their master’s special (perhaps even magical) cup had gone
missing, and they were now the prime suspects. Giving no thought to the fact
that items of value have made a habit of appearing in their bags unexplained, the
brothers grandstand: If the cup is found with them, they declare, the guilty
party should be put to death, and all the others enslaved. Their
response is so completely disproportionate and imprudent, we cannot help but
wonder: Were they feeling guilty? Did they hope to be punished – for an earlier
crime they knew they had actually committed?
Their protestations are ignored, and the
terms they offer are rejected: The guilty party will be enslaved to their
master Yosef, and all the others will be free to go. When their
bags are opened, cold hard reality stares back at them: The bag with the
contraband belongs to Binyamin. In a counterintuitive, seemingly illogical
counter-offer, the brothers insist they will all be slaves. What motivates this
strange reaction? Are they afraid to face their father without Binyamin, or has
their guilt – not for this crime, but for the older, more heinous crime –
finally caught up with them? They clearly know that they deserve to be
punished: They had plotted to kill their brother, had sold him into slavery or
worse, had lied to their father and continued to conceal the truth from him for
decades. Now, strangely, it seems to them that God has “subcontracted” with
this strange and cruel Egyptian ruler in order to exact revenge. And yet, their
offer is rebuffed, their punishment once again held in abeyance. Only Binyamin,
the one among them who is guiltless of their terrible crime, is to be enslaved.
'What can we say to my
lord?' replied Yehudah. 'How can we speak? How can we prove our innocence? God
has uncovered our guilt. Let us be your slaves - we and the one in whose
possession the chalice was found.' 'Heaven forbid that I do that!' said [Yosef]
'The one in whose possession the chalice was found shall be my slave. [The rest
of] you can go in peace to your father.' (Bereishit 44:16,17)
The psychological pressure of losing
Binyamin triggers the full weight of the brothers’ guilt. As the parasha ends, the brothers are,
essentially, begging to be punished; they know they are guilty of a terrible
crime, and they seeking an apt punishment. Yosef does not let them off the hook
that easily: Before the slate is cleared, they must see Yosef for who he really
is.
For a more in-depth analysis see:
Echoes of Eden
