Parashat Vayigash: On Wheels and Responsibility

What does a wheel symbolize? In our house in Albany, we used to have an old bicycle wheel hanging on our front porch and we would ask visitors what they thought it symbolized. They gave all kinds of deep answers (the truth is it was a symbol of bike-riding, which my husband loves).

What does the wheel symbolize in this week’s parsha? Three times the Torah tells us that Pharaoh/Yosef sent agalot, wagons, to transport the families and possessions of the children of Israel down to Egypt. These wagons seem to have some special significance, as, when the brothers tell Yaakov of their meeting with Yosef, he at first does not believe them, but then, the Torah says, Vayar et ha’agalot, “He saw the wagons,” and “the spirit of their father Jacob revived.”

What do these wagons symbolize? Note that the Hebrew term is agalot, from the word agol, meaning round, showing that the distinguishing feature of wagons is its round wheels.

A wheel is a symbol of connectedness. Look at how all the spokes join together in the center. It is a little reminiscent of Yosef’s dream, with him at the center and all the sheaves bowing down to him. There is a sense of joint purpose and connection.

This is the parsha of reunification. The broken family will finally be reunited with their lost son/brother. Vayigash means “He came forward,” and this verb is repeated numerous times. It is a parsha of meetings, of coming forward, of coming back together, in a place called Goshen, a play on this verb, a coming together place.

And so Yaakov saw the wheel and thought of togetherness and was revived.

The rabbis say that when Yaakov saw the agalot, he was reminded of the eglah arufah, the ritual of the broken-necked heifer which is killed to atone for an unsolved murder, a topic of study Yosef was apparently engrossed in before he left home. So the agaolot reminded Yaakov of the eglah arufah, which was a sign from Yosef that this was really him.

What is this strange connection to the eglah arufah ritual? The basic idea of that ritual is that even if we can’t unravel who killed someone, if a person dies near our city, we are responsible for him. We must somehow atone for our negligence in not coming to his aid, in not properly caring for his so that he would not come to this harmful end.

We are responsible for one another. How does this relate to our parsha? The eglah arufah is brought as a tikkun (a repair) for our lack of responsibility for each other. Here, too, in our parsha, this coming together is also a tikkun for the family’s past lack of responsibility for each other, for its letting go of ties of attachment so much as to actually sell their brother down to Egypt.

What will atone for this past? A renewed sense of connection and taking responsibility for each other. That is why Yehudah is the one who convinces Yaakov to let Binyamin go down to Egypt with him. What he says is simply: I take responsibility for him. You can hold me accountable for him. And indeed, when put to the test, Yehudah stands up for Binyamin, indeed holds himself responsible for his brother. Yosef has created a situation where, if they want, the brothers can leave Binyamin to his own fate and go off, without any responsibility for him. But Yehudah now understands that such an act is not really possible.

Yehudah now understands, after seeing the years of pain that he has caused his father through the loss of Yosef, Yehudah
now understands that we can never escape responsibility for each other. We can never go home and feel fine when our brother is not fine. We are intertwined, like the bicycle spokes, so that if one is sick, we all are. As Yehudah says repeatedly in his speech – I cannot leave Binyamin here because of what it will do to my father and therefore what it will do to me – how can I watch such a thing happen? I am attached. I am responsible.

Like the people of a city near an unsolved murder, what Yehudah says is: We are all responsible for one another. We are all part of one wheel. We may not be aware of our connection. We may think we live independent lives from our neighbors, but the truth is otherwise – the truth is a one-ness and a connectedness that is so healing that after decades of unremitting grief, Yaakov looks at the wheels and his spirit is revived. The truth is we are all part of this wheel, whether we know it or not.