Treat Me Like a Brother

What Joseph’s forgiveness reveals about human relationships and our relationship with G-d.                                                                                                   

How many different kinds of relationships shape our lives? Think about it for a moment. A husband and wife. A parent and a child. A brother and a sister. Even a king and his people — or, in today’s terms, a boss and an employee.

But each have their unique dynamic.  For example, the relationship between a husband and wife is built on love, and commitment. A love that includes conditions and is shaped by the shared reality of life together.  When things don’t go well, the relationship can be impaired. 

The relationship between parents and children, however, is very different. A parent loves a child unconditionally — a love that is not dependent on anything. A child’s love for their parents, unfortunately, is often conditional, influenced by circumstances and expectations. But a parent’s love for a child, as we all know, is a love that remains, no matter what.

This is also reflected in the fact that a parent can feel deeply connected to a child even when they are physically far apart — distance does not weaken the bond.

 In addition, there is another type of family connection: the bond between siblings, or between a brother and a sister. This is a bond of blood — a connection that does not depend on conscious love or choice. Two siblings are born to the same parents, and therefore there exists between them a sense of belonging, and mutual responsibility.

Different kind of relationships with G-d

In the relationship between the Jewish people and the G-d, we also find all the different types of connections that exist in human relationships.

We are all familiar with the verse from Song of Songs: “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine” — a verse engraved on necklaces, printed on wedding invitations, and turned into a symbol of love and connection. The Sages taught that the entire Song of Songs was written solely to describe the deep love and bond between the Jewish people and the G-d

The Sages compare the relationship between the community of Israel and G-d, to the relationship between husband and wife: the Creator of the world is the “giver,” and we — the community of Israel — are the “receivers.” Just as in a marriage there is one who gives and one who receives, and from that connection a new reality is created, so too in our relationship with G-d — divine influence flows down to us and becomes expressed within the world.

The word Elul is an acronym of the verse “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.” This means that during the month of Elul we turn toward G-d, and seek a relationship of love and closeness, like that between partners — a desire to be together, as close as possible, and to deepen the bond.

Then come the Days of Awe — Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur — when we say the well-known prayer: “Avinu Malkeinu,” “Our Father, Our King.”

The word “Avinu” means that He is our Father. We emphasize this aspect of our relationship with G-d — the bond between parent and child. A parent never stops loving a child. In a marriage there are ups and downs; there are marriages, and there can also be divorces. But in the relationship between a parent and a child, there is no divorce. It is a bond that is not dependent on love alone, but an essential, unbreakable connection. A parent loves a child at any cost. On Rosh Hashanah, we try to awaken and reveal this love from G-d, toward us.

But then we add another word: “Malkeinu” — “Our King.” Here we are speaking about a completely different type of relationship. This is not a relationship of romantic love, nor only that of parent and child, but a relationship between a king and a people. The king commands, and we are obligated to listen to his voice and fulfill his will. This is a relationship based on awe and on accepting responsibility.

On Rosh Hashanah, we emphasize both of these foundations together: love and awe. On the one hand — Avinu: He has unconditional love for His children. And on the other hand — Malkeinu: He is King, and we are obligated to listen to His voice and carry out what He commands us to do.

Then we arrive at yet another type of relationship — the bond between a brother and a sister. This type of connection also appears in Song of Songs. In the verse “If only You were like a brother to me,” we express a wish that G-d, would relate to us as a brother. At times, we ask to be treated specifically in this way — like a sibling.

What are we really seeking in this kind of relationship? What are we trying to awaken in G-d, when we ask for the relationship of one brother to another?

Repaying Bad with Good 

Here we come to this week’s Torah portion. On the verse “If only You were like a brother to me,” Rashi explains: “That You would come to comfort me in the way Joseph did to his brothers who had wronged him, as it is said about him, ‘and he comforted them’” (Song of Songs 8:1).

Rashi reveals to us what lies at the heart of this request. In the bond between siblings, we touch upon the story of Joseph the righteous — a brother who was hurt, who was wronged, and yet knew how to comfort, to contain, and to respond with kindness.

Joseph was kidnapped by his brothers and sold into slavery. As a result, he was thrown into prison in Egypt, where he remained for twelve years. Eventually, he merited to rise to greatness and became second-in-command to the king of Egypt. Twenty-two years passed before the brothers came down to Egypt to buy food, “for the famine was severe throughout the land of Canaan.” It was then that the truth became clear to them: Joseph, the ruler of Egypt, was the very brother they had sold.

Here the greatness of Joseph is revealed — in how he responds to all of this. He says to them: “And now, do not be distressed, and do not reproach yourselves for having sold me here, for it was to preserve life that G-d sent me ahead of you.” Do not be sad, do not feel guilty. On the contrary, from what seemed like evil, great good emerged. Had these events not unfolded this way, there would have been no one to save the world from famine, and no one to save you from dying of hunger as well.

And even more than that — Joseph does not stop at words of comfort. He immediately invites his brothers to settle in the land of Goshen, so that he can feed them, provide for them, and take care of all their needs.

Joseph does the impossible here: not only does he not become angry with his brothers, not only does he not take revenge on them, but he repays evil with good — as the Alter Rebbe writes in chapter 12 of Tanya.

The Rebbe explains in a discourse that within every Jew there is Joseph the righteous. And who is the “Joseph” here? The soul that is within every Jew, which is literally a part of G-d Himself.

The soul descends into this world for one purpose: to fulfill God’s will — to study Torah and observe mitzvot, to refine the world and elevate it to holiness. As a result, the soul itself also gains: it is elevated and reaches a higher spiritual level precisely through the fulfillment of mitzvot in this physical world.

But when the soul descends below and becomes clothed in a body and an animal soul, something painful occurs. Through a person’s actions, he, so to speak, kidnaps the soul and forces it to be a servant to his physical desires. A person wants to eat, to sleep, to enjoy — and the soul is dragged unwillingly after those desires. In such a state, the soul is, as it were, captive within the body, imprisoned within a person’s physical cravings and urges — just like Joseph the righteous.

The Rebbe explains, that we are asking that G-d should treat us the way Joseph treated his brothers. “For every undesirable act that a person does is comparable to what the tribes did to Joseph when they sold him to Egypt, and the request ‘If only You were like a brother to me’ means that even though through our improper actions we caused G-d, something comparable to the sale of Joseph to Egypt, nevertheless He should repay us with goodness, just as Joseph did with his brothers… We ask of G-d, that even though we have sinned before Him, He should nevertheless give us all good. And just as Joseph held no resentment in his heart toward his brothers… so too we ask of G-d, that He forgive all our sins… and awaken us to return to Him” (Sefer HaMaamarim 5721, p. 163 and onward).

The way to merit such a relationship with G-d, is through the principle of measure for measure. When we forgo and forgive those who have wronged US, and not only refrain from taking revenge, but on the contrary, repay evil with good, we merit that G-d, will treat us in the same way — repaying us with good in place of evil, granting us good and meaningful lives, both physically and spiritually.

Reb Sender

The Alter Rebbe once commented, that the following story of Reb Sender exemplifies what he wrote in the Tanya about Joseph and his brothers.

Reb Sender was a Chassid of the Alter Rebbe. He was a wealthy man deeply involved in charitable activities, a great scholar, and a person of exemplary character. 

An opponent to the chassidic movement, who was a competitor, tried to destroy Sender’s livelihood by falsely reporting him to the authorities. Although the plot ultimately failed, Sender still suffered serious financial losses and was forced to leave the tea business.

The man who had tried to harm him, ended up losing everything. He became ill and impoverished, and his family was left struggling. Meanwhile his daughter reached marriageable age, he had no way to provide her with a dowry.

One day, Reb Sender visited this sick man in his home. He offered words of comfort and encouragement, and when he left, the family found a bundle of money under the pillow — enough for his daughter’s dowry.

This was Reb Sender’s response to someone who had tried to destroy him: not anger, not revenge, but kindness. He repaid harm with good.  

(Story from למען ידעו p 275)

And ultimately, to the greatest good of all — the coming of our righteous Mashiach, very soon.

(From a class by Rabbi Mordechai Farkash on Parashat Vayechi, 5786)