Breaking Generational Patterns
“And in that day, his burden shall be lifted from your shoulder, and his yoke from your neck, and the yoke shall be broken because of the oil.” Isaiah 10:27
In this week’s parashah, Miketz, מקץ, which means “at the end of” (found in Genesis 41:1–44:17), Pharaoh has two dreams that convey a divine message that greatly distresses him. God causes the cupbearer to finally remember Joseph, the interpreter of dreams, since there were no wise men or magicians who could interpret them. He tells the Pharaoh about the man who had interpreted their dreams when they were in prison, and they came true. Pharaoh immediately summons Joseph, who is transformed into an Egyptian so as not to appear be a Hebrew. He was given new robes and brought before Pharaoh. Thus, Joseph emerges from prison as a new man. It is interesting to note that Joseph never asked Pharaoh for anything, as anyone in this situation would: “Free me from my prison, grant me my freedom, show me mercy.” Instead, he presents himself before this king, whom he sees as a man. He listens to him and then declares that God will interpret the dream that distressed the king so much.
Pharaoh tests Joseph by subtly altering and omitting parts of the dream; however, this man still reveals what God was about to do. Pharaoh is impressed because, without being asked and without arrogance, Joseph not only shows him the problem but also offers a practical, concrete solution that will bring wealth to Egypt. Pharaoh was amazed by the spirit that rested upon Joseph and declared him viceroy of Egypt that very day, even though Joseph had not applied for any public office.
Then Joseph began to resolve humanity’s generational cycles, as recounted in the Torah. Yosef means “God will add or God will increase”. And so, God begins to add to Yosef, with no blessing recorded in the Torah, unlike the blessings previously bestowed upon Isaac or Jacob. The Torah might have included a phrase like: “And God blessed Jacob and Yosef, saying…” but instead, the blessings Yosef carries are implicit in his name (in his nature), in his special garments (such as his robe), since they are an investiture, as we later read when the priests receive special garments. They are a sign of fulfilling a role, an investiture of authority. We see a third implicit blessing when his father sends him to Shechem, giving him his life’s mission: “Go now, see to the peace of your brothers לֶךְ־נָ֨א רְאֵ֜ה אֶת־שְׁל֤וֹם אַחֶ֙יךָ֙ lech na reeh et shalom achicha”. (Genesis 37:14). This would ultimately take him twenty-two years to fulfill, when he would be sent as a true bearer of Shalom, which he would continue to carry.
Now, the time has come to complete his father’s mission, entrusted to him thirteen years earlier, and beginning with his release from slavery. Thirteen is an interesting number in Gematria…it represents wholeness, unity (oneness) (Echad), and also love (Ahava). In other words, Joseph achieves unity through love. Now we see how God adds to his life on this day – a wife, a new nationality reflected in a new name, a new status as Viceroy, a purpose to begin anew—to cultivate the land and then preserve it—and his sons who would break the cycle of sibling rivalry previously described in the Torah. In other words, 13 is linked to compassion, patience, and the forgiveness necessary to once again become ONE (Echad). 13 would unite what was fragmented: his sons, Manasseh and Efraim, would now make them 13 tribes who would receive the blessing of Israel. Joseph spent 13 years imprisoned and enslaved, not solely to become strong, but to learn to unite without dominating. Furthermore, 13 is the age at which a young man can consciously assume responsibility, and this is what happened: Joseph assumes responsibility with love in this process.
This is how the two boys are born – Manasseh, with “God made me forget my affliction,” and Ephraim, “God made me fruitful in a land of affliction” – two names that signify the process of healing. Then Pharaoh’s dreams come true, and abundance turns to scarcity, producing famine and prompting Israel to command his sons to “go down” to Egypt to find food so that they wouldn’t starve to death.
At this point, 13 years of slavery had passed, plus 7 years of abundance, and 2 years of famine; that is, 22years without seeing his father. In other words, Joseph has been in exile for 22 years. The number 22 in gematria evokes the Alef Bet, the Hebrew alphabet, which contains 22 letters. The sages say that the world was created based on 22 letters (Sefer Yetzirah 1:1), and truth is articulated through 22 sounds (Sefer Yetzirah 2:2). Likewise, Jacob was separated from Isaac for 22 years. Now his son has repeated this cycle. Jacob had been separated from his father, Isaac, for 22 years, and now his son Joseph is also completing this cycle. We see “midah keneged midah” in this process of renovation and reparation for Jacob. Likewise, just as Jacob lived apart from his brother Esau for 22 years, his sons live apart from each other for 22 years.
When Joseph’s brothers appear, they don’t recognize him, but Joseph recognizes them. He tests them to see whether, over these 22 years, his brothers have come to terms with what they did to him. They had been apathetic, envious, and their dehumanized conscience had rejected him. It was time to fulfill his father’s last command: “See how your brothers are doing.” It was time to do teshuvah, to perform tikkun (reparation) to reunite Jacob and become Israel. Thus, Joseph keeps Simeon (42:24), Reuben demonstrates that he lacks the character to assume the role of being a leader (37:21-22; 42:22; 42:37), and under pressure, Judah (43:9, 44:16) rises as the leader. Benjamin is brought in despite his father not wanting to hand him over, but Jacob finally decides to “release” his son when he says in 43:14, ” As for me, if I am to be bereaved, I shall be bereaved.” ” Va’ani ka’asher shacholti, shachalti.” This is a very human parashah, full of intense emotion, denouement, and resolution; perhaps that is why it begins with an ending (Miketz).
Since there isn’t enough time to develop all my points, let me summarize concerning certain “yokes” or burdens of the soul that are generational and must be broken. First, the Torah implies that when the brothers realized the extent of the pain they inflicted on their father, they decided not to discuss the incident with Joseph, but instead they consigned the events to the “treasure chest of memories.” Many of us, when we make mistakes in life, don’t confront them; we deliberately choose “not to talk about (deal with)” issues that need to be resolved. This is the first yoke that has to be broken…there are families in which abuse and betrayal are not discussed, where losses are not mourned, and silence is passed down as a form of “loyalty.” Unexpressed pain becomes a pattern, often generational, and results in anxiety, accompanied by emotional outbursts and guilt. These are repeated because no one dares to acknowledge, confront, or even face them.
Cycles of favoritism and relational yokes rot the soul of the family. There are families that discriminate between “strong versus weak children,” “intelligent versus incapable,” and “independent versus fragile.” This generates approval based on performance and results, where success holds supreme value: the best grades, your best behaviour, exquisite taste in clothing, success, leadership, intelligence, athleticism, and artistic brilliance. On the other side of the coin, failure is seen as a negative value, generating shame and rejection, and causing love to be confused with merit. Guilt, self-imposed exile, resentment, rivalry, and the inability to ask for help emerge. This creates hyper-functional and emotionally absent adults, isolated within society, and mothers who carry all the emotional burdens within the home, as fathers are emotionally absent. The children grow up feeling unsafe, fragile, and vulnerable, leading to a society that does not accept that failure is an opportunity or a blessing.
And the other cycle I see rotting away is the spiritual one, where God is perceived as a watcher and not a healer, or where there’s a tendency to “spiritualize traumas.” How does this manifest? Religion forbids us from asking questions, justifies abuse, perpetuates fears, or we spiritualize when we say: “forgive and forget,” “God wanted it to happen,” “you’re a new creation”—that is, we suppress the pain to appear spiritual, we don’t cry so as not to show our humanity, and as a consequence, there are wounds that remain unhealed.
God has given us the tools to free ourselves from these burdens or yokes – they are called “fragility and humanity”. Cycles like those between Cain and Abel are repeated. They produce rivalry and competition ending with brother killing brother; between Noah’s sons, where exposure and rape ended in estrangement, brothers separating forever, and their father’s humiliation; between Ishmael and Isaac, so close that it produced incest, bullying, toxicity, and a lack of boundaries also ending with the humiliation of a son expelled from home; between Esau and Jacob, deception and immediate pleasure that produced hatred, flight, and disunity; between Rachel and Leah, jealousy between sisters, rivalry among their sons, and marital insecurity. In no case was there restoration of the family.
Joseph, after a difficult and painful process, managed to bring his brothers the peace entrusted to him by his father. Spiritually-generational cycles are not “made rotten” by running away, by accusations, self-justification, or over-spiritualization. They rot when the oil (like the Divine anointing of the Hanukkah lights) helps us address an issue through the eyes of truth, when we take responsibility for our actions, acknowledge what we have done, and demonstrate teshuvah not with a simple “I’m sorry or forgive me” but with actions that protect the weak and vulnerable, as is evident in this new stage for our brothers and sisters.
We’re in the time of Hanukkah, just like the times of Joseph; we’re living in exile, in a world that despises us, a world of prolonged darkness, a world that seeks to eliminate our spirituality. In these difficult times, when light emerges from the darkness of Egypt, light also appears, bringing life just as the grain in Egypt saved lives; that is, what was “hidden” sustained life. Miketz alludes to the end of Joseph’s personal exile, and Hanukkah to the cultural exile. Let us bring light into our homes with wisdom, not pretending or defending our positions of apparent strength, which can be deceptive, but with enough humility to be restored. In the end, the yoke must not be broken; it must be destroyed by the oil’s ability to decompose.
Shabbat Shalom
Sr. Mauricio Quintero