Dreaming of Forgetting, and Fruit in the Dark: Miketz

This week’s parsha starts with Joseph being let out of the dungeon. Like the time of year we are in and the very year we are ending, he has been in the darkest of places.

Joseph is remembered by the chief cup bearer to Pharaoh who needs his dreams interpreted. As a result of Joseph’s interpretation, Egypt is able to prepare for a severe famine, and he is elevated to an even higher position than before, entrusted with all the food stores of the land and their distribution-- all this, and he’s only 30 years old! He’s also given a new name, like his father before him, and to show even more appreciation, Pharaoh gives him an Egyptian wife of high standing. 

And guess who shows up in the midst of the famine? Joseph’s brothers--looking to procure food!! 

Remember the dream about them one day bowing down to him? Well, that’s what happens.

Joseph is now a powerful man, dressed in the finest Egyptian garments, I suppose with a different hairstyle, too, and they bow low without even recognizing him. 

His dream has come true, but I imagine not in the way he would have wanted, for it is in this parsha that we learn of Joseph’s pain. 

Joseph is no longer the cocky youth who smugly told his brothers his dreams. He is now the man who not only humbles his brothers, but who has himself been humbled by life.

Joseph has been on a roller coaster. He has gone from being his father’s favorite to being thrown into a pit, sold and shipped off to Egypt, become the favorite of a king, been framed by Pharaoh’s wife, thrown into a dungeon, forgotten, and now elevated almost to Pharaoh’s level. 

Like his uncle Esau before him, he’s had time to think and reflect in the darkness, and like his father Jacob, he’s had time to be transformed.

But was he transformed? 

What kinds of thoughts does one have when in a pit--or a dungeon?  

It’s not entirely clear what lessons he’s taken from this time, except that forgiveness and contentment are not among them like they were for Esau. 

One thing we do know for sure is that he wants to forget. One of the two children he has by his Egyptian wife is named Menasheh, or “God has made me forget my hardship and my parental home.” 

But just because he wants to forget doesn’t mean he does. 

In fact, he remembers so clearly what his brothers did to him that he puts them through the ringer. It’s like he’s been planning his revenge for years: he accuses them of being spies, sneaks their payment for the foodstores back into their bags, demands that they bring their youngest brother, Benjamin, back with them next time on pain of death, keeps one brother in prison until they return, and places a silver goblet in Benjamin’s bag---all to scare the *#@%& out of them.

The result is the brothers living in terror. They suspect that God is punishing them for what they did to Joseph all those years ago.

Better yet, Joseph is punishing them for the pain they’ve caused him—they just don’t know it yet.

Joseph might have also been thinking, “How is it that I’m special, but I keep getting thrown into dark places?” 

Yes, his brothers technically messed up his life the moment they threw him into the pit. He’s experienced tremendous loss as a result.

We, too, have been thrown into a pit. For those younger than a certain age, we’ve collectively had the worst year in our lifetime. We have experienced terror and hopelessness, and tremendous loss. Many want revenge. 

Joseph can point fingers at his brothers, and we can point fingers too, at those who have caused our suffering and that of the world.

In the end, Joseph doesn’t get satisfaction from torturing his brothers.

Having the power to inflict pain on them now doesn’t take away his own.

As we see, underneath his rage is just plain raw grief; when his brothers can’t see, and when he can no longer contain himself, Joseph runs from the room and cries the tears he’s been holding in. 

His leaving the room might be symbolic of his taking a different direction, releasing grief that’s been bottled up inside for so long.

Our goal should be to do things differently this time, too: to see the humanity in others, as Joseph sees the humanity in his brothers; as angry as he is, he always intended to provide for them. It’s unconscionable what they did to him, yet he does not forget that they are human.

Yes, Joseph is still in the pit in this part of the story, but maybe the release of his tears allows him to move forward in some way.

We, too, are still in the pit in so many ways; we, too, have a lot of tears to release; we, too, ask, “Why does this keep happening?” (the answer for which is not the subject of this blog post.)

But Joseph names his second child Ephraim, meaning “double fruit,” because God has made him bear fruit in the land of his affliction. 

Joseph doesn’t forget, but he also doesn’t stay in the pit. He just cries. And he bears the fruit of a new life in many ways.

We also will not forget, nor will we stay in the pit. We need to release our grief so we can move forward as well.

And just like Joseph, we will continue to bear fruit.

May the light and miracles of Chanukah be a reminder of the possibility of bearing the fruit of a new way of living and a new kind of society.