Drawing Near with Vulnerability — Kendell Pinkney

This past week there were a number of media outlets that ran the story of a small Italian nursing home in Castelfranco that innovatively created “hugging rooms.” These rooms featured thick plastic curtains where families who had been sequestered from their loved ones for over nine months could finally “touch” them through the thick protective barrier after passing numerous other Covid safety protocols, of course. Needless to say, I openly wept when I saw these pictures. It reminded me of how I hope to see and hug my own parents and grandparents someday soon when it is safe to do so. This picture, somewhat unexpectedly, also reminded me of the final scene in the Joseph story from this week’s parasha, vayigash.

In vayigash, we have Joseph, the former bratty kid with provocative dreams turned prime minister of Egypt coming face-to-face with the very siblings who sold him into slavery. When we consider the context of his relationship with them, we cannot help but wonder what is running through Joseph’s mind? Does he want revenge? Reconciliation? What has he sealed up in his heart over all these years since that fateful betrayal? 

Interestingly, instead of revealing his true identity to his brothers, Joseph comes up with a successful plot to keep his full-brother Benjamin with him in Egypt. Maybe revenge is what’s on his mind, after all. Suddenly, just as he is about to send the rest of his brothers packing back home, the parashah tells us וַיִּגַּ֨שׁ אֵלָ֜יו יְהוּדָ֗ה, “and Judah drew near to him,” or “and Judah approached him.” According to some ancient interpreters, Judah approaches Joseph in anger and rage. Rule number one for ancient royal courts – don’t approach an ancient ruler unless you are summoned. Rule number two – don’t approach angrily. Judah might as well be dead.

Judah’s action is bold. But, surprisingly, it also opens up the possibility for reconciliation. Whether Judah conceals deep anger, or not, to me his actions and words come across as desperate, humble, earnest, and emotionally vulnerable. He knows that he could be killed for his boldness and that no one would fault such a powerful ruler for doing so. The great dramatic irony, of course, is that Judah proves his willingness to give up something precious (i.e., his own freedom) for the sake of his little brother (Benjamin) to the very brother (Joseph) who he and the others sold into slavery. The tension is high; it is impossible to know how this story will play out.

“Vulnerability is the first thing we look for in others, and yet it is the last thing that we like to reveal in ourselves,” writes the oft-quoted sociologist Brené Brown. Vulnerability scares us. It terrifies me because it is impossible to know the outcome of each moment that you choose to be vulnerable with another human being. In the case of Joseph and his brothers, reconciliation is not a given.

So here we are at this moment in our parashah where anything could happen. Joseph could listen to Judah’s plea, or he could dispatch with all of his brothers. Instead, something remarkable happens. Joseph yells out  הוֹצִ֥יאוּ כָל־אִ֖ישׁ מֵעָלָ֑י - “Everyone leave me!” He clears the room of all his servants and guards so that just he and his brothers remain. And in this moment he reveals his true identity to them, uttering גְּשׁוּ־נָ֥א אֵלַ֖י. “Please, come near to me.” Joseph figuratively and literally lets his guard down in order to be reconciled with his brothers in one of the more beautiful moments in an otherwise dysfunctional family story. This reconciliation was not a foregone conclusion. It hinged on Judah’s vulnerability to step up and sacrifice something for the sake of someone else.

My mind is drawn back to those images of families in Italy finally having the chance to “hug” one another through those thick, protective curtains. Like many of us, they had been separated from their loved ones for so long that even the opportunity to draw near with multiple protective barriers seemed well worth it. This story and the Joseph saga speak to the ways that I believe we desire to belong, to draw near, to be close, to be held, and to be reconciled with each other. However, there is so much that gets in the way - pride, jealousy, anger, abuse, trauma, a pandemic, and so much more. Let’s be honest: with all these barriers, it simply wouldn’t be wise to seek reconciliation in every encounter. However, in small, limited ways, there might be moments where a touch of personal vulnerability might provide just the right kind of heart opening that will allow us to draw close to one another despite the obstacles. My hope for all of us is that we may have the opportunity to experience instances of drawing near to each other this holiday season, and that we might embrace little bursts of vulnerability that might make such an experience possible and more meaningful.

Kendell Pinkney is the Rabbinic Fellow at Ammud: The Jews of Color Torah Academy