There isn't a scene like it anywhere else in the Bible.
Genesis 43:23
“It’s all right,” he said. “Don’t be afraid. Your God, the God of your father, has given you treasure in your sacks; I received your silver.” Then he brought Simeon out to them.
This is Joseph’s Egyptian steward speaking to Joseph’s brothers, who have come a second time from Canaan to Egypt to get food in the midst of a devastating famine. Joseph has become the second most powerful ruler in Egypt, but he is deeply conflicted. In fact, Joseph is a mess.
In a reversal of fortune, he now has absolute power over his brothers compared to his helplessness all those years ago when they sold him into slavery. He is struggling to decide what he will do with these brothers whom he loved and who betrayed him in a way that was unforgivable.
So he plays games—dangerous games. When his brothers left last time, he insisted one of them, Simeon, stay behind as a kind of hostage. But he also had his steward secretly return the silver the brothers brought to pay for food. Now, forced to return for food again, they’re worried that Joseph will think they stole the money. The steward, an Egyptian, who would not eat at the same table with Hebrews, speaks kindly, reassuringly. “Don’t be afraid,” he says.
When I initially read this “don’t be afraid” passage, it spoke to me about the kindness of strangers. How it can be a deep balm when we are afraid. But there is so much more fear to unpack here, I think.
This passage is also a foreshadowing, because later, after Joseph insists the brothers bring their youngest brother Benjamin to Egypt against the protests and great distress of their father, Joseph will have his steward secretly slip Joseph’s silver chalice in Benjamin’s bag and accuse him of stealing it. It is another ploy to keep these brothers under his control, as he struggles with hating them for what they did, while his love and longing for his family threaten any moment to burst out.
When Benjamin is caught with the chalice, Judah, who promised his father Jacob nothing would happen to his youngest son, steps forth and offers his life for his younger brother’s. In an impassioned speech to Joseph, still disguised to him, he pours out his heart. He speaks of his father’s desperate love for Benjamin and how his very life is tied to him, because of another son lost decades before. Judah’s speech is so desperate, so full of grief and remorse, there can be no doubt he regretted his actions from decades before with his whole being.
In her book, God is Love, Mirabai Starr speaks of the power of this kind of absolute, exposed, unqualified remorse. How it can break through the most hardened of hearts:
Then one night you wake up and your heart is quiet. . . . You picture the people who hurt you most deeply. They are crying. Overcome with empathy, you too begin to weep. Without any words, you forgive them. Grateful, they disappear, like a genie released from a bottle after the curse is finally lifted. You have never felt such stillness, such a gentle breeze moving through the cells of your body.1
In Joseph's case, instead of a gentle breeze, it is a gale-force wind. His heart can no longer hold the bitter anger, even hatred, he’s entitled to feel.
It . . . just . . . can’t.
In a moment he reveals himself to his brothers. The Egyptians in the other room hear his wail as he relinquishes the deep wound he’s been carrying. They hear the raw emotions in his voice. There isn’t a scene like it anywhere else in the Bible.
For a long time, I thought this whole passage was about Joseph’s brothers’ fears—fear of being discovered for their terrible sin, fear of losing another brother, fear of devastating their father, fear of dying of starvation. And while these fears are present, I think now this long sequence of events is really about Joseph’s fear. His deep fear of opening his heart again after betrayal is the fear that lurks everywhere.
It would indeed be wonderful, a miracle of the most amazing kind, if the people who have wounded us deeply would seek us out, would lie at the foot of our bed, hearts broken open with remorse, and ask our forgiveness. It may not happen in our lifetimes. Sometimes I try to imagine my heart’s response if they did.
Starr, Mirabai. God is Love: A Guide to the Heart of Judaism, Christianity and Islam. Monkfish Book Publishing Company. Rhinebeck New York. 2012. Pg. 131.
This is beautiful, Susan.