Community Magazine December 2013

22 COMMUNITY MAGAZINE Yosef and begged for his forgiveness, stating that Yaakov had left instructions demanding that he pardon his brothers. Yosef’s response to his brothers’ plea, on the surface, seems straightforward and unequivocal: Yosef said to them: “Do not fear, for am I in Gd’s place? You plotted evil against me, but Gd plotted goodness… And now, do not fear, I will support you and your children.” He comforted them and spoke to their heart. (Beresheet 50:19-21) As mentioned, it certainly appears as though Yosef and his brothers achieved complete reconciliation, putting the unfortunate incident of mechirat Yosef fully behind them, buried in the past, out of sight and out of mind, forever. But if so, then why do we continue to suffer the ills of hostility and acrimony among our people, which, as mentioned, results from mechirat Yosef ? Why does the plague of brotherly hate continue to rage among our people if the story of Yosef and brothers ended on a note of reconciliation? The answer comes to us from a surprising but ever so powerful remark by one of the great Spanish commentators, Rabbenu Bahya ben Asher (1255-1340), who writes that there is one word conspicuously absent from Yosef’s response to his brothers: “ Mahalti – I forgive.” True, he affirmed that it was Gd’s plan to bring the family to Egypt to save them from famine, and reassured them that he would continue supporting them and their families. But he never said that he forgave them. Our halachic tradition states very clearly that an offender is not forgiven for a wrong committed against his fellow without receiving the victim’s forgiveness. He could pray, cry and confess all day long for weeks on end, but the sin will remain on his record until the victim grants forgiveness. And thus, Rabbenu Bahya writes, the stain of mechirat Yosef was never completely eliminated. Yosef did not exact revenge, but neither did he completely forgive. Whatever the reason why Yosef refused to forgive, Rabbenu Bahya’s insight gives us a lot to think about as we attempt to once and for all rid ourselves of the effects of mechirat Yosef . This effort depends not only on our ability to avoid causing any sort of harm toward our fellow Jew, but also to say – sincerely – those three words which are always so difficult to get out of our mouths: “I forgive you.” The obligation of ahavat Yisrael – loving one’s fellow Jew – falls upon the victim as much as it falls upon the perpetrator. Both are obliged to utter three crucial words: one must say, “I was wrong,” and the other, “I forgive you.” Both phrases are very difficult to verbalize, and this might very well be why the ill of baseless hatred has proven so hard to overcome. We wish it weren’t so, but the Book of Beresheet does not end on the happy note we want it to. The brothers live together in Egypt peacefully, but, as Rabbenu Bahya teaches, an undercurrent of tension remained. The wounds never completely healed. The tragedy of mechirat Yosef was not consigned to past history. True reconciliation was not achieved. And if we seek to rectify mechirat Yosef , we must be able to do just that