Parashat Vayeshev/Miketz: On Hearing the Cry

“Alas, we are being punished on account of our brother, because we looked on at the anguish of his soul, but did not listen when he pleaded with us.” (42:21)

Thus say Yosef’s brothers in next week’s parsha. We looked on at tzarat nafsho, the anguish of his soul. We did not listen to his pleading. Strangely enough, in this week’s parsha, when we hear of the incident --- the brothers throwing Yosef into the pit and then selling him – we do not hear any pleading on Yosef’s part. What we are told in this week’s parsha is simply that they take him and cast him into the pit. And then right afterward: vayeshvu le’ekhol lekhem. They sat down to eat bread.

What is this breaking of bread right after throwing their brother in a pit? And where is the pleading – Yosef’s cries of anguish -- that the brothers recall in next week’s parsha?

The reality is that they don’t hear Yosef’s cries in the present moment – they don’t register it – because they are hiding from it, hiding from the awful reality of what they have done and how they feel about it. They are hiding and the symbol of their hiding is eating.

The problem is a lack of presence. Later on, they can recall “hearing Yosef’s cries” but at the moment it is happening the Torah doesn’t even record those cries because it is as if they do not exist for these brothers at that moment – they have removed themselves entirely from the situation by turning toward food. Had they taken a moment to “digest” what is going on, to hear those awful cries (it is painful even to imagine it) and to take in the extent of harm they were inflicting on someone that, no matter how irritating, they were nonetheless attached to, had they taken that moment to be present to the cries, all would have turned out differently.

It is our hiding – whether in food or other distractions – it is our hiding that causes pain. Interestingly enough, in recalling the incident the brothers do not blame themselves for their horrific act of throwing their brother into the pit. That was a momentary act of passionate anger and jealousy which could have been forgiven. What is unforgiveable is the turning away from hearing and from presence, the callous shutting out of cries.

In some ways it is easy to dismiss the brothers’ act as too horrific to imagine doing ourselves. But surely there are cries – both of those close to us and of those whom society has blocked from our view – surely there are cries that we are hiding from, cries and problems that we turn to food to escape from, cries that we cannot really hear until is too late. The answer is presence, always presence, presence in the moment so that we do not have to recall the cry, but can hear it right now and respond.