At the heart of Parashat Vayechi: Forgiveness
Several years ago in Israel, a tragedy occurred that shook the entire country. A young man named Nachum was responsible for driving a group of small children to school. He was one of the rebbeim of the cheder and also served as the carpool driver. One hot summer day, he made a devastating mistake. A four-year-old boy fell asleep in the back seat, and Nachum did not realize the child was still in the car. Hours later, the child was found dead from heatstroke.
It was an unbearable tragedy. The driver was crushed. The family was crushed. Nachum was arrested, charged with criminal negligence under Israeli law, and publicly broken. He did not deny what had happened. He collapsed under the weight of guilt. His life was permanently altered. He was a young married man, and everything changed in a single moment.
What happened next was even more astonishing. The child’s grandfather, the mother’s father, reached out to Nachum and asked him to come to the shiva. Nachum could not imagine how he could face them. And yet he came. The family embraced him and forgave him. The grandfather went even further. He pleaded with the prosecution to drop the charges. He cited a teaching from the Gemara Yerushalmi (Nedarim 9:4), which states that if one hand accidentally injures the other, a person does not punish the second hand in retaliation.
Sending Nachum to prison would not bring their child back. He was already crushed. His life would never be the same. They did not want him to go to jail. Ultimately, the charges were dropped. Years later, Nachum named his own son after the child who had died.
That story leaves a person stunned. Yet this is precisely the kind of forgiveness that lies at the heart of this week’s parsha, Vayechi.
• • •
After Yaakov Avinu passes away, the Torah describes his funeral procession from Egypt to the Cave of Machpelah. It is a massive event. Yosef comes, his brothers come, their families come, and even the elders and dignitaries of Egypt accompany them.
Along the way, the Torah tells us they stop at a place called Goren HaAtad, where they mourn for seven days. “When the Canaanite inhabitants of the land saw the mourning in Goren HaAtad, they said, ‘This is a grievous outpouring of mourning for the Egyptians.’ The place was therefore called Avel Mitzrayim” (Bereishis 50:10–11).
The Gemara in Sotah 13a reveals what was happening beneath the surface.
The children of Esav, the children of Yishmael, and the children of Keturah all came to the burial of Yaakov to wage war against Bnei Yisrael. They believed the time had come to exact revenge. All three carried the wound of rejection.
•Esav had been passed over when Yaakov received the blessings.
•Yishmael had been sent away when Yitzchak was chosen as Avraham’s heir.
•The children of Keturah were likewise sent eastward, separated from Yitzchak’s inheritance. Rejection had hardened into hatred, and now they came for war.
But then they noticed Yosef’s crown resting on Yaakov’s coffin. Yosef was the rejected brother, sold into slavery, imprisoned for years, and separated from his family for decades. And yet he had risen to become the most powerful man in the world. If anyone had the ability and justification to seek revenge, it was Yosef. Instead, he forgave. His crown represented moral mastery, not merely power.
• • •
Seeing Yosef’s crown, the descendants of Esav, Yishmael, and Keturah were shaken. They removed their own crowns and hung them on Yosef’s crown. The coffin became surrounded by crowns, resembling thorn bushes, which is why the place was called Goren HaAtad, a threshing floor encircled like thorns. In that moment, their will to fight dissolved.
The meaning of this becomes clear in the next scene of the parsha. After the burial, the brothers panic. With Yaakov gone, they fear Yosef will finally take revenge. Yosef responds, “Ha-Tachas Elokim Ani?” (Bereishis 50:19). This is often translated as “Am I in the place of G-d?” but the word Tachas also means beneath.
Yosef is teaching something deeper. There are two ways to live. One is beneath G-d, ruled by instinct, anger, resentment, and ego. The other is to strive to align with G-d by emulating His attributes.
Forgiveness does not come naturally. Our instincts pull us toward revenge and grudges. Yosef reframed his suffering entirely. Again and again he says, “You intended harm, but G-d intended it for good” (Bereishis 50:20).
By seeing his pain as part of a divine plan, he freed himself from bitterness. That is what true forgiveness looks like. Not denial of wrongdoing, but transcendence of it.
This message could not be more urgent today.
Antisemitism is once again rising openly and violently. Does it feel like we are living in the 1930s again? We are still reeling from the horrific attack in Bondi on Chanukah. What can we do?
When we are divided, we are vulnerable. When we are united, we are strong. Repairing relationships strengthens families. Strengthening families strengthens Klal Yisrael. Personal forgiveness can even reshape the behavior of nations.
Each of us must ask:
•Whom can I forgive?
•What relationship can I repair?
•Can I make that phone call?
•What resentment can I release?
When we rise above our instincts and act in a G-dly way, we tap into the supernatural strength that Yosef seared within our spiritual makeup. His forgiveness melted the hatred of nations and brought their crowns to his feet.
When we choose forgiveness, other nations will recognize that moral strength and lay their crowns alongside ours.
Benny Berlin is the rabbi of BACH Jewish Center in Long Beach. Visit: bachlongbeach.com
Write: Columnist@TheJewishStar.com
