It begins with a brutal primal fratricide and ends with a stirring brotherly reconciliation. It starts with a story of silent distant parents and ends with the bestowal of impeccably sculpted patriarchal blessings; a scene awash with dutiful and doting filial homage. When taken in measured weekly doses, the Book of Bereshit provides us with a steady array of compelling and often unsettling family situations. When taken as a whole the book begs the question of progression and sequence. We cannot help but notice the stark contrast between the opening of the book and its conclusion. What moves the story from a place of dysfunction to a place of healing? How are the episodes along the way related to this development?
Not a single word of dialogue between Adam and Eve and their children Cain and Abel is provided by the Torah. Did they exchange words? I am sure that they did. That not one sentence and not one word is recorded speaks volumes. That no conversations are recorded tells us that there was no record-worthy interchange between parent and children. No record-worthy conversation in the Torah between parent and child reflects a deep and striking absence of relationship. Not a few readers note that Adam and Eve have no parental models; created directly from the earth, not birthed from womb, they understandably lack parenting skills. As such, they are far from being perfect parents. In a scene absent of parental supervision, one son's offering is accepted, one is rejected. The hurt is too painful to bear, the burning jealously is inextinguishable and the one son murders the other. The chain of sibling rivalry episodes is launched.
It is in Parshat Vayeshev that the sibling rivalry episodes reach their most complex and detailed level of narrative as the Joseph story unfolds. Preceded by Ishmael's banishment and Esau's disinheritance, the Joseph stories provide us with a full-bodied and intensely cathartic tale of favoritism and jealously, loss and reinstatement. That it is preceded by the Isaac and Ishmael experience and by the Jacob and Esau episode is indispensable and essential to the unraveling of the story's nuances. As this is final instalment in the sibling strife series launched with Cain and Abel, it builds upon those that came before and most satisfyingly concludes with hope. Brothers can make peace. The Joseph parshiyot in their length and depth are a profoundly fulfilling conclusion to a Bereshit launched with a Cain and an Abel.
As Joseph is thrown into the pit, precious coat violently ripped off of him, we pause in frustrated scorn; again a brother is victim to brotherly hatred? The selling of Joseph comes on the heals of a birthright sold under duress and the banishment of a son that does not belong. It is the final instalment that needs to be considered in context.
First the banishment. Ishmael is born from a liaison fraught with self-interest and conflict, bereft of love and commitment. No wonder then that he will become a wild-ass of a man his hand in everything. He does not belong and as he plays with the rightful heir, the chosen son Isaac, a danger is sensed by Sarah; Ishmael must be banished. Isaac grows up in a home from which the ill-fitting son has been cast away. Wonder that when faced as a parent with an ill-fitting son, Yischak chooses the opposite technique. Esau is embraced and held close while Jacob must scheme to receive the blessing he deserves. Isaac's affection for Esau is puzzling and to some even disturbing. Perhaps his hope was to bring close rather than to banish, to embrace rather than to alienate; the loss of a brother ever fresh.
Jacob's inelegant exchange of lentil soup for birthright is followed by the deceptively acquired blessing. For these deeds Jacob is rewarded with years of pain. His beloved Rachel is switched on the wedding night for Leah, she is the eldest daughter destined to marry the eldest brother. Jacob now the eldest by virtue of a purchased birthright and a blessing taken under suspicious pretence is married to the eldest. As was Isaac blinded and unknowing, so too was Jacob fooled. Children are born of wives competing for the love of one man; jealously ensues. We arrive at the saga of Joseph.
Wearing the privileged coat of colours he becomes a talebearer bringing reports on his brothers back to Father. He has dreams of night that reflect daytime thoughts of grandeur. This lording over his brothers lands him stripped of the coat, in a pit waiting to be sold down to Egypt. They have had enough of him. Textual confusion notwithstanding, years later he identifies himself: I am Joseph your brother; you sold me down to Egypt. Trading of humans; father purchases birthright; son is sold into slavery.
Jacob's preferential treatment of Joseph leads to no good; yet times changes Jacob. As he prepares for the end of life, blessings are bestowed upon each of the brothers. No silent parent here. Jacob unlike Adam speaks to each son and with carefully measured words each receives a fitting eternal message.
The book - that began with the arrogant theft of life, grabbed by Cain as he brutally denies Abel his right to live; he knows not that God in His divinity is the sole author of life - concludes with the powerful humble pronouncement of Joseph: do I stand in the place of God? Lessons are learned. Generations teach generations; repair is made. Perhaps Joseph's peace with his brothers begins the healing for the murder of Abel. It all must start somewhere; the end is in sight as Parshat Vayeshev begins and Joseph the Tzadik struts across the stage, we must grimace as the story starts, but comfort yourself we know its end as well.
Not a single word of dialogue between Adam and Eve and their children Cain and Abel is provided by the Torah. Did they exchange words? I am sure that they did. That not one sentence and not one word is recorded speaks volumes. That no conversations are recorded tells us that there was no record-worthy interchange between parent and children. No record-worthy conversation in the Torah between parent and child reflects a deep and striking absence of relationship. Not a few readers note that Adam and Eve have no parental models; created directly from the earth, not birthed from womb, they understandably lack parenting skills. As such, they are far from being perfect parents. In a scene absent of parental supervision, one son's offering is accepted, one is rejected. The hurt is too painful to bear, the burning jealously is inextinguishable and the one son murders the other. The chain of sibling rivalry episodes is launched.
It is in Parshat Vayeshev that the sibling rivalry episodes reach their most complex and detailed level of narrative as the Joseph story unfolds. Preceded by Ishmael's banishment and Esau's disinheritance, the Joseph stories provide us with a full-bodied and intensely cathartic tale of favoritism and jealously, loss and reinstatement. That it is preceded by the Isaac and Ishmael experience and by the Jacob and Esau episode is indispensable and essential to the unraveling of the story's nuances. As this is final instalment in the sibling strife series launched with Cain and Abel, it builds upon those that came before and most satisfyingly concludes with hope. Brothers can make peace. The Joseph parshiyot in their length and depth are a profoundly fulfilling conclusion to a Bereshit launched with a Cain and an Abel.
As Joseph is thrown into the pit, precious coat violently ripped off of him, we pause in frustrated scorn; again a brother is victim to brotherly hatred? The selling of Joseph comes on the heals of a birthright sold under duress and the banishment of a son that does not belong. It is the final instalment that needs to be considered in context.
First the banishment. Ishmael is born from a liaison fraught with self-interest and conflict, bereft of love and commitment. No wonder then that he will become a wild-ass of a man his hand in everything. He does not belong and as he plays with the rightful heir, the chosen son Isaac, a danger is sensed by Sarah; Ishmael must be banished. Isaac grows up in a home from which the ill-fitting son has been cast away. Wonder that when faced as a parent with an ill-fitting son, Yischak chooses the opposite technique. Esau is embraced and held close while Jacob must scheme to receive the blessing he deserves. Isaac's affection for Esau is puzzling and to some even disturbing. Perhaps his hope was to bring close rather than to banish, to embrace rather than to alienate; the loss of a brother ever fresh.
Jacob's inelegant exchange of lentil soup for birthright is followed by the deceptively acquired blessing. For these deeds Jacob is rewarded with years of pain. His beloved Rachel is switched on the wedding night for Leah, she is the eldest daughter destined to marry the eldest brother. Jacob now the eldest by virtue of a purchased birthright and a blessing taken under suspicious pretence is married to the eldest. As was Isaac blinded and unknowing, so too was Jacob fooled. Children are born of wives competing for the love of one man; jealously ensues. We arrive at the saga of Joseph.
Wearing the privileged coat of colours he becomes a talebearer bringing reports on his brothers back to Father. He has dreams of night that reflect daytime thoughts of grandeur. This lording over his brothers lands him stripped of the coat, in a pit waiting to be sold down to Egypt. They have had enough of him. Textual confusion notwithstanding, years later he identifies himself: I am Joseph your brother; you sold me down to Egypt. Trading of humans; father purchases birthright; son is sold into slavery.
Jacob's preferential treatment of Joseph leads to no good; yet times changes Jacob. As he prepares for the end of life, blessings are bestowed upon each of the brothers. No silent parent here. Jacob unlike Adam speaks to each son and with carefully measured words each receives a fitting eternal message.
The book - that began with the arrogant theft of life, grabbed by Cain as he brutally denies Abel his right to live; he knows not that God in His divinity is the sole author of life - concludes with the powerful humble pronouncement of Joseph: do I stand in the place of God? Lessons are learned. Generations teach generations; repair is made. Perhaps Joseph's peace with his brothers begins the healing for the murder of Abel. It all must start somewhere; the end is in sight as Parshat Vayeshev begins and Joseph the Tzadik struts across the stage, we must grimace as the story starts, but comfort yourself we know its end as well.
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