At the close of the Book of Genesis, in Parashat Vayechi, Jacob gathers his sons and offers them individualized blessings. He knows that this is the end, and the Torah tells us:
When Jacob finished his instructions to his sons, he drew his feet into the bed and, breathing his last, he was gathered to his kin. Joseph flung himself upon his father’s face and wept over him and kissed him.
This powerful moment is like the dramatic climax of an episode of television. The peak emotional moment swells with music and our hearts break, just a little.
The new episode begins and the preparations for Jacob’s burial come into focus with a flashback to a few chapters earlier. At the beginning of the portion, the Torah describes the moment Jacob asks Joseph to swear on his last desire.
And when the time approached for Israel to die, he summoned his son Joseph and said to him, “Do me this favor, place your hand under my thigh as a pledge of your steadfast loyalty: please do not bury me in Egypt.
When I lie down with my ancestors, take me up from Egypt and bury me in their burial-place.” He replied, “I will do as you have spoken.” And he said, “Swear to me.” And he swore to him. Then Israel bowed at the head of the bed.
Now that Jacob has died, we are told that he is embalmed and the whole of Egypt wails on his behalf. And then comes the new episode’s primary conflict: Joseph has to follow through on his promise.
And when the wailing period was over, Joseph spoke to Pharaoh’s court, saying, “Do me this favor, and lay this appeal before Pharaoh. (Genesis 50:4)
Joseph, one of the most powerful people in the region, effectively second-in-charge in the whole country, must ask permission of Pharaoh. However, he is unable to approach the man himself. He, instead, comes to the court.
Why is Joseph tentative about asking for what he needs?
Sforno explains that it is because he was still in mourner’s clothes and it was inappropriate.
Chizkuni explains that Joseph had so much authority, that Pharaoh depended on him so much, that Pharaoh might say no. This is referenced by a verse in which Pharaoh says, “without you, no one shall lift up hand or foot in all the land of Egypt.”
Chizkuni also suggests that Joseph also knew military and political secrets and could become an adversary if he decided to remain in Canaan.
Or HaChayim explains that he wanted assistance in getting approval to leave the country and wanted the court to volunteer instead of being commanded. He goes on to say that Joseph was seeking Pharaoh to act affectionately and give him permission, while he wasn’t needed immediately.
In any of these cases, the rabbis identify an underlying tension: Joseph doesn’t think Pharaoh is going to say yes.
The Torah then tells us:
‘My father made me swear, saying, “I am about to die. Be sure to bury me in the grave which I made ready for myself in the land of Canaan.” Now, therefore, let me go up and bury my father; then I shall return.’” (Genesis 50:5)
Joseph now adds an additional reason for his going: He made a promise to his father.
It isn’t just that he wants to bury his father in his homeland, but has an obligation to do so. Joseph has incredible internal pressure to follow through. Pharaoh now has a choice:
First, he can say yes. He can do this with affection and kindness for a person who has helped him so profoundly. He can do this begrudgingly. In doing so, he would be allowing Joseph to complete his task.
Second, he can say no.
The consequences here would be complicated. Joseph could ignore the response and go anyway. This could cause political upheaval and be damaging to Joseph’s wealth, power, and ability to keep breathing.
Joseph could accept the no and break his promise to his father. This would mean that Joseph’s promises would be meaningless because he wouldn’t be trusted to keep them. This could be damaging to Joseph’s wealth, power, and ability to keep breathing.
A no from Pharaoh would be disastrous.
It makes sense why Joseph is being so cautious. So what happens?
And Pharaoh said, “Go up and bury your father, as he made you promise on oath.” (Genesis 50:6)
Hooray! Pharaoh says yes! Joseph is spared an awkward and potentially terrible outcome.
That’s it, right? Not quite.
The surface reading of the text seems relatively clear: Joseph asks and Pharaoh agrees. But, the rabbis are uncomfortable with this simple yes. Instead, they create an elaborate backstory that is referenced by many commentators.
It comes from Tractate Sotah and we’re going to unpack it together:
Rabbi Ḥiyya bar Abba says that Rabbi Yoḥanan says: When Pharaoh said to Joseph: “And without you no man shall lift up his hand or his foot in all the land of Egypt” (Genesis 41:44), Pharaoh’s astrologers said: You will appoint a slave whose master bought him for twenty silver coins to rule over us?
He said to them: I perceive royal characteristics [ginnunei malkhut] in him and see that he was not initially a slave.
Calling back to the same verse referenced by Chizkuni above, Pharaoh empowers Joseph by claiming that despite Pharaoh’s additional authority, Joseph is truly the ruler of Egypt.
We can imagine that some folks wouldn’t be happy about that. Who? Pharaoh’s astrologers, who couldn’t interpret the Pharaoh’s dreams, wouldn’t be jazzed about this random guy coming into power.
They, in this rabbinic retelling, express surprise, and maybe some friendly outrage, that this slave, plucked from the prison, could be given such power. Pharaoh says that he has a royal quality to him, like a coach in a soapy sports movie: He’s special, he’s got potential, I see something in him.
The Royal Joseph
What does this entail exactly?
They said to him: If that is so and he is a child of royalty, he should know the seventy languages that all kings’ children learn. The angel Gabriel then came and taught him the seventy languages, but he could not learn all of them.
Gabriel then added one letter, the letter heh, to Joseph’s name from the name of the Holy One, Blessed be He, and then he was able to learn the languages, as it is stated: “He appointed it in Joseph [Yehosef] for a testimony, when he went forth against the land of Egypt, the speech of one that I did not know I heard” (Psalms 81:6).
And the next day, when he appeared before Pharaoh, in every language that Pharaoh spoke with him, he answered him.
The astrologers create a pseudo-test for him. If he’s really royal, he wasn’t, then he would know every language! (You can read a bit more on the idea of the seventy languages in this cool Talmud reference in my source sheet here.)
Does Joseph know every language? Not even close. He’s not royal either, he’s a shepherd from a local nomadic tribe.
But, the rabbis explain that Gabriel comes down and attempts to teach him all the languages of the world and fails. Then, evidenced by an extra hey in his name in the book of Psalms, Johoseph magically gains the ability to learn the languages, and poof, now he’s ready for Pharaoh.
But there’s a twist.
Joseph then spoke in the sacred tongue, Hebrew, and Pharaoh did not know what he was saying. Pharaoh said to him: Teach me that language. He taught him, but he could not learn it. Pharaoh said to him: Take an oath for my benefit that you will not reveal that I do not know this language. He took an oath for his benefit.
If the measure of royal characteristics is knowing the world’s languages, Joseph has one on Pharaoh. He does not know and cannot seem to learn the Hebrew language.
As a result, Pharaoh finds himself at a disadvantage and Joseph has leverage.
Joseph, who now has power over all of Egypt, also has a piece of embarrassing information on Pharaoh. With its reveal, it could undermine the entire country!
In our imaginary television drama, this is the climactic moment in the episode following Jacob’s death:
The Negotiation.
The Talmud continues:
Years later, when Joseph said to Pharaoh: “My father made me swear, saying” (Genesis 50:5) that I would bury him in Eretz Yisrael, Pharaoh said to him: Go request the dissolution of your oath.
Joseph said to him: And should I also request dissolution for the oath that I took for your benefit?
And consequently, even though Pharaoh was not amenable to letting Joseph go, he worried that Joseph would then request dissolution for the oath that he had taken for his benefit, and Pharaoh therefore said to him: “Go up and bury your father according to what he made you swear” (Genesis 50:6).
Returning now to our moment in the Torah, Joseph wants to go to bury his father and Pharaoh has to make a decision.
He can take the risk and let Joseph go, or he can refuse.
In the rabbinic retelling, Pharaoh refuses by demanding that Joseph dissolve his oath and break his promise. It is at this moment that Joseph reminds him of the consequences of oath-breaking and Pharaoh capitulates.
Yes, it seems like Joseph blackmails Pharaoh.
So what’s the point?
On one hand, this is a lesson about power and leverage. Joseph gains the upper hand and utilizes it to his advantage decades later.
Pharaoh has difficult decisions to make about whether or not to let Joseph go, knowing that he could pay a political price for a wrong choice.
On the other hand, it is a lesson about trust.
According to the rabbis, Pharaoh displays a total lack of trust and presents as selfish.
The evidence in the Torah does seem to point the other way: Pharaoh gives Joseph lots of power, allows him to take over an entire area, Goshen, and, in this case, allows him to fulfill a promise.
The rabbis want us to see Pharaoh in a negative light. They want us to be prepared for the Pharaoh that is to come in Moses’ time.
Jacob has to trust that Joseph is going to follow through.
Pharaoh has to trust that Joseph will keep his promise.
Joseph has to trust that his relationship with Pharaoh will lead to approval.
We make oaths, vows, and promises to externalize and articulate the concept of trust. The rabbis are incredibly serious about them. There’s an entire tractate on the subject.
While I think the tension highlighted by the rabbis in the Talmud is fascinating, and I love the details of this story with Joseph, Gabriel, and Pharaoh, ultimately, I think they make a mistake.
They allow their distrust of Pharaoh to encourage us to do the same.
I believe we should encounter the world with eyes wide open, seeing people for who they are, and watching how they act. There are people out there who don’t necessarily have our best interests at heart, but when people have earned our trust, we can respond in kind.
Laying in bed, trying to fall asleep, I do what the rabbis have done here: imagine an explanation for people’s behavior or future behavior.
Sometimes, as I explore the possibilities, I come up with fanciful background stories that aren’t rooted in reality. But in the fresh light of the morning, most of it isn’t true.
In our imagined television drama, we want to root for someone, a hero who follows through and does their best. But because they might be our “hero,” it doesn’t mean that the other characters are the villains. Pharaoh isn’t necessarily the good guy in this part of the story, but he’s definitely not the bad guy.
The drama comes from the conflicts. Conflict can come from disagreement, separate visions of the future, or subverted expectations.
But so does comedy.
How might we imagine those in our lives with more kindness, understanding, and trust? How might we avoid creating “language teaching angels” to explain one another’s behavior? How might we see one another as fellow journeyers rather than villains?