The Torah records three occasions on which Judah and Joseph confront each other. In the first, Judah, along with his brothers, is resentful of the way that Joseph, the first-born son of Jacob’s beloved wife Rachel, is given preferential treatment by their father Jacob. As a result, Judah is the key figure in the plot to get rid of their bothersome little brother. It is Judah who engineers the sale of Joseph into Egyptian slavery.

The second confrontation between Judah and Joseph is not a face-to-face clash, but rather a lesson taught to those who study or listen closely to Torah-tales. In last week’s Torah portion, we read that Judah’s family was obligated to ensure that there would be progeny from the relationship between Judah’s eldest son Er and his wife Tamar after Er died before they could conceive a child. In ancient Semitic property law, it is the duty of surviving male siblings to impregnate the widow of the deceased brother if there are no male offspring. In this instance there is a bit of a problem: Onan, the next in line, refuses his duty to Tamar and to the family. He, too, dies. Judah then promises that his third son, Shelah, will fulfill the tribal responsibility as soon as he is old enough, but—perhaps fearful that his third son also may die—forgets about Tamar as her life withers away in widowhood. So Tamar dresses the part of a prostitute, seduces Judah, and becomes pregnant by him.

When Tamar is found to be pregnant, Judah becomes righteously indignant, and orders her put to death. In private Tamar shows Judah the staff, cylinder seal, and cord that he had left with her in lieu of payment for the “services” she had rendered to him. Seeing the staff and cylinder seal on its carrying cord—incontrovertible proof that he was the man who impregnated her—Judah concedes that she has acted ethically by forcing him to adhere to communal law.

This story is in contrast to the one about Joseph and Potiphar’s wife that also was part of last week’s assigned text. Potiphar’s wife wants to seduce Joseph, but he resists her. Convicted of sexually abusing her on the basis of circumstantial evidence, Joseph is imprisoned, which Joseph turns into an opportunity to affirm his roots and his faith. By juxtaposing these two stories, the Torah seems to invite readers to compare Judah’s indiscretion to Joseph’s virtues. Joseph exhibits responsibility and loyalty to his clan even in the most difficult situations.

The third confrontation occurs this week. It results in Joseph being reunited with his brothers. What changed in Judah’s character during the years of Joseph’s absence to allow this event to happen, and is there anything we can learn from it?

Rabbinic midrash notes that Judah has made a pledge of personal responsibility to his father Jacob for the well-being of the family’s youngest child, Benjamin. He says, “Anochi e’ervenu miyadi”—I will be responsible for him.”

Judah’s statement is the transcendent, elevating answer of someone who has learned a profound lesson in life. His two words are the reply to the earlier Biblical question spoken by Cain after he has killed his brother Abel, “Hashomer achi anochi?”—“Am I my brother’s keeper?” Now many generations later the lesson is concluded in the same emphatic tone: “I will be responsible for him.”

A contemporary Jewish theologian has said that Judah’s statement, like Cain’s, is one that is possible only in the first person. No one can make such a declaration in your stead; you must stand up and be counted as an act of your own free will. It is a statement of someone who steps forward and willingly puts himself on the line. It is perhaps no accident that this same word anochi—“I”—later becomes the “I” of the first of the Ten Commandments, “I am the Lord your God.”

The Midrash also observes that there are two kings in Israel, the Messiah, the anointed king, a descendant of Joseph, and the Messiah, the anointed king, through David’s line a descendant of Judah. When Judah and Joseph meet, it is Judah who demonstrates responsibility and takes the initiative—even risks his life—by speaking up. The text reads: “Vayigash eilav yehudah,”—“Judah approached the viceroy of Egypt.” He intends to speak harshly, to bargain forcefully, in defense of little Benjamin, Joseph’s brother. Judah is no longer an accomplice, merely yielding to the majority’s whim and taking the lowest common approach to matters. He is protector of his brother, prepared to take a stand against forces greater than him. Like Joseph, Judah has discovered that there are transcendent and subtle forces at work in the universe, that he has a role to play in how they shape the future. The brothers have become aware of their responsibility to each other for their collective well-being. Thus they rise to holiness and become partners in the divine plan in which God invites every person to lend a hand.

Many years ago, Helen Keller, reflecting on her life, said: “Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, vision cleared, ambition inspired, and success achieved.”

When we face the worst that can happen—that we have inflicted on ourselves and others—and strive to apply the best that we have learned in order to resolve the situation, we demonstrate that we can grow. Joseph has grown and matured. So has Judah. We can find reason for legitimate pride in the utter realism, honesty, and unbreakable faith in human beings shown by our Torah. Now, as these weeks spent with the Patriarchs and Matriarchs approach an ending, we know that our sacred texts are showing us that imperfect human beings can nevertheless serve as the means for God’s goodness to emerge in this world.

Shabbat shalom!