Hope Can Set You Free
Parashat Vayigash: Genesis 44:18–47:27
Ben Volman, UMJC Vice President
Who among us hasn’t contemplated revenge? Who hasn’t caught themselves musing at length about toppling an enemy from their pedestal, wanting them to feel for a moment the same pain that they inflicted? When Yosef was hauled off to prison at the whim of Potiphar’s wife, who do you think he blamed? Almost certainly, it would have been those brothers who callously sold him into slavery. After 13 years in Pharaoh’s jail, he had lots of time to imagine how to get even, if he ever got the chance.
As our story opens, it appears nothing can stop him. He’s already played with his brothers’ worst fears and though he’s a stranger, they have come to feel that somehow this Egyptian is an instrument of God’s judgment. They are about to watch him do to Binyamin what they once did to Yosef: make him a slave and send them away to explain the loss to their father.
At this crucial moment, Y’hudah steps forward (Gen 44:18). The Hebrew word “vayigash,” usually translated as “he approached,” carries unusual depths of meaning. One key midrash (Genesis Rabbah 93:6) reminds us that it may be used for entering battle (2 Sam 10:13), to reconcile (Josh 14:6), or to pray (1 Kings 18:36). The word also introduced another timely act of intercession, when Avraham “came forward” to intercede for the righteous who may yet be in Sodom (Gen 18:23).
Y’hudah’s speech is a master class in humility. He makes neither excuses nor any argument to explain or blame. Humbly he lays out the story of his promise to a grieving father, pleading for mercy on behalf of a heartbroken old man. All hope now lies in the hands of Pharaoh’s vizier.
If Yosef had been set on revenge, would this speech have moved him? Perhaps not. But what was in his heart? What happened during those years in prison? We have one important clue: when Pharaoh speaks to Yosef as one with power to interpret dreams, Yosef replies, “It isn’t in me. God will give Pharaoh an answer that will set his mind at peace” (Gen 41:16). This is not the same young man who once boasted of his dreams. These are words of a tested faith worthy of Avraham’s spiritual heir. All his hope is in God and he understands that God draws near to those who know him with shalom shalom, his perfect peace (Isa 26:3).
When I read Anwar Sadat’s memoirs, I was moved by his remarkable account of 31 months spent in a Cairo prison that transformed his life. Conditions in Cell 54 were horrific and disgustingly unsanitary, and prisoners came out for only 15 minutes a day. But in that time, Sadat (only 27 when he entered prison) developed a relationship with his inner self and with his Creator; a loving trust in God that guided the rest of his life. That experience gave him an internal resilience to become the first Arab leader to go to Jerusalem and sign a genuine treaty with Israel.
It’s impossible to know how Yosef found the way to hope and forgiveness in his dungeon. But when he heard Y’hudah’s appeal for mercy, Yosef knew that his brothers were changed. Still, his response came with great pain. Yosef’s long-buried, pent-up emotions overwhelmed him, and he had to order everyone from the room but the captive Hebrews.
Why was it so hard? Until his brothers arrived, Yosef was missing a part of himself. Despite the blessings of God’s presence, he yearned to fulfill his larger purpose as a son of Avraham. God brought his brothers—his betrayers—to restore his lost identity. They alone understood that when he said, “I am Yosef” he was saying, “No matter what you did, you are still my brothers.”
Finally, he could share the profound insight of faith that had given him the freedom to forgive. That is why he immediately declares: “Do not be distressed or reproach yourselves . . . it was to save life that God sent me ahead of you. . . . It was not you who sent me here, but God” (Gen 45:5–8). Yosef may have once wanted revenge, but he had given it up for something greater: he was at peace with God’s gift of a higher purpose.
When I consider how Israel’s future depended on the mercy of a man betrayed by his own brothers looking into the face of the one who sold him into slavery, my old resentments and aging grudges come into painful focus. Yosef spent 13 years in prison—how many years have we locked away some part of ourselves from grace?
One of Elie Wiesel’s German graduate students asked him, “Do you never feel hatred for the German people?” Wiesel replied, “You must turn hatred into something creative, something positive. . . . Express what you feel and let the hate become something else. But do not hate.” After miraculously surviving the Ravensbrück concentration camp, Corrie ten Boom set up a recovery home for fellow survivors. She recalled how those who took hold of life again had hearts to forgive. Those who stayed bitter remained trapped in the past.
We have all gone through waves of trauma over the past three years. I think of dear friends struggling with loss; some who are living with long Covid; others toiling faithfully for the suffering people of the Ukraine. But let’s not lose sight of hope. When Sadat arrived at Ben Gurion airport in November 1977, he had a special greeting for his familiar adversary of the Yom Kippur War, Golda Meir: “I have wanted to meet you for a long time,” Mr. Sadat said. Mrs. Meir replied: “Mr. President, so have I waited a long time to meet you.” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.
As the calendar turns over, I can’t think of anything more important than taking hold of hope and the words of Yeshua that lead me to pray: Lord, help me to let go of what needs to be given over to you and to forgive as I’ve been forgiven. Amen and Happy New Year.
All Scriptures are taken from the Complete Jewish Bible.