31 Dec WE CAN’T FORGET

This Shabbos, Parshas Vayigash, we read of
the emotional moment when Yosef revealed
his true identity to his brothers.
“Ani Yosef, I am Yosef, ha’od avi chai, is my
father still alive? And the brothers couldn’t
answer him.” (Bereishis 45:3)
The brothers had previously told Yosef that
they had an elderly father. If so, why does
Yosef ask “Is my father still alive?
The Bais HaLevi teaches that it was Yosef’s
moment of soft rebuke to his brothers. The
tension in the room was palpable. With just
a few words, Yosef conveyed a powerful
message. Is my father still alive?… If you, my
brothers, are so concerned about our father,
if you truly cared so much, you would have
never sold me to start with.
Yosef’s words are concise and deliberate.
He is making a point. He is my father,
not our father. Words that led the
brothers to contemplate their actions.
Words that left them thunderstruck
and speechless.
Rabbi Paysach Krohn relates a story

that provides an additional insight on
Yosef’s words.
Rabbi Krohn spoke of a ten year old boy
whose parents divorced when he was five.
His father was totally out of the picture. No
connection whatsoever. His mother remarried,
and unfortunately, the young boy and his
stepfather did not have a positive relationship.
The poor boy was down on life. He was just
going through the motions, a detached look
always visible on his face, his eyes always
dark. His rebbi would try to engage him, but
never got anywhere.
The class was learning Parshas Vayigash.
They were up to the pasuk where Yosef
revealed himself to his brothers. “I am Yosef,
is my father still alive?” The rebbi stopped
and challenged the class with the obvious
question. If Yosef already knew that his father
was alive, why the need to ask.
The classroom was silent as the boys were
thinking it out. Suddenly, a hand shot up in
the air. To the rebbi’s surprise, it was the
boy with the divorced parents, the boy who
previously never participated.
Eager to hear what he would say, the teacher
called on the boy. At first, the young boy

spoke in a low voice. But as he
gained confidence and courage,
his voice became louder. The boy
explained that Yosef was asking,
is my father still alive for me?
Is he thinking about me, does he
remember me, or did he forget who
I am?
The rebbi understood that the
young boy was speaking about
himself. He was relating his own
life circumstances to Yosef’s. Like Yosef, he
was separated from his father for so long. By
Yosef saying “my” father, the young student
began to think about his own father. Does my
father remember me? He was so afraid about
being forgotten about.
It was a turning point for the young student.
He began to relate to Yosef. He didn’t allow
his life circumstances to break and destroy
him. Yosef became a leader in Egypt. And,
by virtue of his actions, he grew to become
Yosef HaTzaddik.
To the young boy, this realization served as
a source of encouragement that he too, can
accomplish great things.
We just celebrated the second Chanukah since
the horrific events of October 7. It’s hard to
believe that over one hundred of our people
– parents, grandparents, husbands, wives,
brothers, sisters, and yes, even young children
are still held in the dark dungeons of Gaza. I
couldn’t help but wonder, while we celebrated
the Festival of Lights, did the hostages even
get to see the light of day.
The terrorists have been playing mind games
with the hostages, telling them that they have
been forgotten about. That their country and
government have abandoned them. Like the
little boy who wondered if his father forgot
about him, the captives must have their “od
avi chai, is my father still alive” moments.
Does anyone still think about us? Care about
us? Or, are we forgotten about?
As painful and agonizing their situation
is, I believe that in their heart of hearts the
hostages know that we are a nation that never
forgets. We are a people of ahavas Yisroel, of
love for one another. Of caring and sharing.
A nation that is davening and fighting for
their release.
For twenty-two long years, from the time

Yosef was seventeen until he reached thirty-
nine, he was away from his beloved father,

family and home. In last week’s parsha, Yosef
comes face-to-face with his younger brother,
Binyamin, with whom he shares a mother,
Rachel, and has a special relationship with.
Rashi relates a narrative from the Talmud.
Yosef asks Binyamin, “Do you have any
children?” Binyamin responds that he has
ten sons, and shares their names with Yosef.

The names were not typical. Yosef asks
Binyamin if there is any special significance
to them.
Yosef had not yet revealed his true identity to
his brothers. Binyamin explains that he had
a brother who went missing, and that each
name was given in his honor. Each name
expressing an everlasting love for him. Each
signifying the “tzoros”, the pain that his lost
brother must be enduring. He proceeds to
explain his sons’ names to Yosef.
Belah – For my brother, who was “nivlah”,
swallowed up amongst the nations.
Becher – For my brother, who was the
“bechor”, the firstborn to my mother, Rachel.
Ashbel – For my brother, “sheh-shva-oh”,
who was HaShem’s captive.
Gera – For my brother, who was a “ger”,
living as a stranger in an unfamiliar land.

Na’amon – For my brother, who was “na-
im”, very sweet.

Achi and Rosh – For my brother, who was
“achi, my brother”, and “roshi, my leader”.
Mupim – For my brother, who learned “mi-pi
ovi”, from the lips of my father.
Chupim – For my brother, who never saw my
chuppah, and I never saw his.
Ered – For my brother, who descended,
“yorad”, amongst the nations.
What great joy Binyamin must have
experienced at the birth of each child. What
a beautiful family – ten healthy sons. Yet, his
happiness was bittersweet, for it was mixed
together with a longing for his brother Yosef.
Binyamin never forgot. Yosef was always
on his mind.
Yosef, too, was filled with uncontrollable
emotion and tears upon hearing how much
his brother Binyamin missed and loved him.
Feelings that were mutual and everlasting.
What a powerful message. Despite the
passage of time, we mustn’t forget about
our brothers and sisters in captivity. Though
we go about our daily routines, let’s take upon
ourselves some concrete way of remembering
those who are still “missing”. Be it an extra
mitzva, additional davening or learning, or
helping those in need in Israel. In that z’chus,
HaShem will surely and speedily reunite the
hostages with their families, as Yosef was
reunited with his loving father and family.