Parashat Vayechi draws to a close not just the book of Bereishit but also several narrative themes: the story of the patriarchs and matriarchs, with God’s promise to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob to make their progeny numerous and to assign to them the land of Canaan; the life of Jacob, the third and last of the patriarchs; and the fraught tale of Joseph and his brothers, for many readers (including myself, the youngest of six brothers) as dramatic and heart wrenching as any in the Chumash.
When the ten older brothers first came to Egypt to buy grain and found themselves wrongly accused by their unrecognised brother Joseph, they voiced among themselves their guilt for having thrown their young brother into a pit and for having sold him to a passing caravan of merchants. And later when Joseph revealed himself to them, he immediately sought to reassure them that his being sold into Egypt had been God’s doing. Thus there was a reconciliation of sorts between the brothers, but the ten made no real acknowledgement of their sin, nor make any act of repentance. The reconciliation rather was based on the elephant-sized facts of their difficult past relationship not being fully addressed.
But now Jacob has died, and the ten brothers fear that without the patriarch’s protective influence Joseph will seek revenge. In the message they send him (purportedly originating from Jacob), they acknowledge their guilt. Joseph reassures them that he does not stand in place of God (presumably in matters of justice or retribution) and goes on: V’atem chashavtem alai ra’ah Elokim chashva letova lema’an asoh cayom hazeh lehachayot am-rov – And as for you, you intended me harm; but God intended it for good, in order to bring about the present result, survival of many people. (50:20)
Why is Joseph in such a rush to reassure his brothers, just as he he’d done when he revealed himself to them seventeen years before? Any real conversation would have had to include some acknowledgment on his part of just how bumptious he’d been as a youngster. But more importantly it would have given his brothers the space to show their remorse to him and make true teshuvah. As it is, on both occasions, Joseph is effectively blocking off their repentance. Perhaps he did this so as to remain more in control of their relationship; or perhaps (to judge him more benignly) he was just too uncomfortable to enter into such a painful conversation.
In reassuring them in the way he does, Joseph is making a powerful theological statement, that a person may intend evil by his actions, but God may intend good to come of that same action. I want to explore the implications of this statement. To do so, I think it’s important to look separately at the point of view of the person who suffered the wrongful act – in this case Joseph – and that of the person(s) who acted maliciously – the brothers.
Let me look first at the point of view of the person who suffers a malicious act. Have you ever felt that although someone had wronged you, you could trust that God was with you, and eventually you could see the good that came out of what was done to you? Isn’t that Joseph’s position? For however much he may have been "too big for his boots" vis-a-vis his brothers when he was a young lad, he has shown himself to be modest in relation to God. When he was called to interpret Pharaoh’s dreams, didn’t he ascribe his gift of interpretation to God?
And now, in this conversation with his brothers, he is recognising that God was with him in all the strange twists and turns of his life – his being sold to merchants by his brothers, his employment in Potiphar’s household, his boss’s wife’s attraction towards him and her accusation that he had tried to rape her, his being thrown into prison, gaining a position of trust where he met Pharaoh’s baker and cup-bearer, and his eventual summons to interpret Pharaoh’s dreams, leading to his being appointed to a role where he could do great good both to the Egyptians and to many other people, including his own family.
Now, Joseph might be saying "God made my brothers sell me into slavery, God made Potiphar’s wife accuse me, so I’d be thrown into prison." Many people do see the events in their life as beshert, or fated, in just this kind of way. But there is a principle in Judaism, which I myself firmly believe in, that God does not interfere in humans’ free choice. And the brothers, in their hatred for Joseph, freely chose to act towards them as they did.
So I would prefer to understand Joseph as saying that God was with him and blessed him with the ability to make the best out of all the circumstances he found himself in, leading to his being in a position to do great good. I too have come to trust that even in times of misfortune God is with me, and that those events are in some way "right" – a belief that sometimes enables me to make the best of circumstances so that good comes out of them.
A person with this kind of belief can speak only for his or her self. After all, it is a matter of personal faith. It would be totally improper to suggest to others (who may have been through the most dreadful tragedies) that they can or should trust that their tragedy will lead to something that is right. To say such a thing would be as wrong and inappropriate as Job’s "friends" telling him that he must in some way deserve all the tragedies that have befallen him, for God always acts with justice, rewarding the good and punishing the bad. Haven’t such terrible things been said about the victims of the Holocaust?
Rather I sense that Joseph is saying with some modesty: God alone will decide on your guilt and whether you should be punished – that is not for me. For my part, I can recognise that God has been with me and that good has come of your actions, despite your evil intent. Now, if we believe that, does that let the perpetrator of evil off the hook?
Rashbam, the 12th century Torah commentator (and also a grandson of Rashi) understands Joseph to be saying: The Holy One, blessed be He, caused you to do it, and you did not sin, because the Holy One, blessed be He, intended it for good. Rashbam is interpreting Joseph’s words in the Chumash, You intended me harm; God intended it for good, as lifting all sin or guilt from the perpetrator.
I would like to suggest a different interpretation. Joseph clearly says V’atem chashavtem alai ra’ah: and as for you, you intended evil for me. He knows, the brothers themselves know, and we might assume that God too knows, that the brothers’ intention was evil and their action was evil. God does not "make" people do evil things. Surely no good coming out of an evil action "re-writes" the evil.
Look what it would mean if it did, by taking the most glaring example of all. Many people say that the State of Israel came into being only as a result of the Holocaust. Now, I don’t happen to agree with that gruesome connection. The United Nations Resolution of November 29, 1947 no doubt came about as a result of the Holocaust, but I believe the momentum of the Zionists would anyway have continued until, one way or another, the State came into being. But let us assume for a moment that it was only because of Hitler that Israel became a sovereign state. Would any of us think for one moment that that blessed outcome would wipe Hitler clean of guilt?
Our own Jewish history provides many occasions where evil leads on to good. For instance, the Egyptians’ harsh enslavement of the Hebrews led to the birth of the Israelite nation; does that wipe clean the guilt of Pharaoh and his cruel slave-masters? Or in our own everyday world, might I wrong someone and then say: "See how good has eventually come to you as a result of what I did to you, so I am guiltless and have nothing to apologise for." No, when we do wrong, let us feel remorse and do teshuvah regardless of any positive outcome for the person we have damaged. And when we ourselves are wronged, may we trust in God’s help to bring light out of the darkness.