Yosef's Tears and the Power of Forgiveness: A Lesson in Trust and Peace

After the passing of our patriarch Yaakov, Yosef’s brothers became deeply afraid that he would finally repay them for the evil they had done to him: “When Yosef’s brothers saw that their father was dead, they said, ‘Perhaps Yosef will hate us and surely repay us for all the evil that we did to him’” (Bereishit 50:15).

In order to prevent this, the brothers tried to protect themselves in advance. They sent Yosef a message containing what they claimed was Yaakov’s final instruction before his death: “Your father commanded before his death, saying: Thus shall you say to Yosef, Please forgive the transgression of your brothers and their sin, for they did evil to you. And now, please forgive the transgression of the servants of the God of your father” (Bereishit 50:16–17).

In truth, Yaakov had never given such an instruction. However, the brothers felt it necessary to depart from the truth for the sake of peace. As Rashi, citing Talmud, explains, they altered the truth for the sake of peace. It is very likely that Yosef understood this. After all, Yaakov had many opportunities to convey such a message directly, and there is no reason he would choose to do so specifically through the brothers.

Why Yosef Wept

Yosef’s first response upon hearing this so-called final request was tears: “And Yosef wept when they spoke to him” (Bereishit 50:17).

These tears carry profound meaning.

Throughout Yosef’s encounters with his brothers, he cried several times. When one pays attention to those moments, it seems that his tears flowed from overwhelming emotion, deep longing, and a desire to be reunited with them. Yosef longed to bridge the abyss that had opened between them since his youth and to once again be their brother in the fullest sense of the word.

But this particular moment was different.

Here, Yosef’s tears seem to have come from a place of deep disappointment — the realization that his brothers still did not truly believe he had forgiven them.

For seventeen years Yaakov and his sons had lived together in Egypt with Yosef. During all that time, Yosef, as ruler of Egypt, cared for his family generously and lovingly, almost like a father cares for his children. The family lived well, and Yaakov himself finally enjoyed a measure of peace.

During all those years, Yosef likely hoped that the family wound had healed, that his brothers had truly reunited with him in heart and spirit.

But that hope shattered when they approached him with fear and even invented a final command from Yaakov.

Yosef suddenly understood that despite all the kindness he had shown them, they still suspected him. They still believed that all his goodness had merely been outward behavior, and that deep inside he was waiting for the day their father died so that he could take revenge.

In their minds, Yosef had become like Esav, who intended to kill Yaakov only after the death of Yitzchak.

This realization broke Yosef’s heart. His tears were not tears of anger. They were tears of sorrow over the failure of complete reconciliation. Yosef cried because peace had not yet fully taken root between them.

The Danger of Misinterpreting Intentions

There is an astonishing lesson here about the importance of judging others favorably.

Beyond their general fear, the brothers’ suspicion was strengthened by two specific incidents. Yet in both cases, they had misunderstood Yosef’s actions.

The first was that while Yaakov was alive, the brothers were accustomed to dining at Yosef’s table. After Yaakov’s death, Yosef stopped inviting them.

The second was that when the family brought Yaakov’s body to be buried in the Land of Israel, Yosef went to see the pit into which his brothers had once thrown him.

The Midrash explains that in both cases Yosef acted for the sake of Heaven, with pure intentions, but his brothers interpreted everything negatively.

When Yaakov was alive, Yaakov himself would seat Yosef at the head of the table, even though Reuven was the firstborn and Yehuda was destined for kingship. Yosef, out of humility, was uncomfortable with this arrangement, but he honored his father’s wish.

After Yaakov’s death, Yosef no longer felt it appropriate to sit at the head of the family table. At the same time, as ruler of Egypt, it would not be fitting for him to publicly take a lower seat before the Egyptians. To avoid creating tension or disrespect, he simply stopped inviting them altogether.

His intention was pure, but his brothers saw rejection.

The same happened with the pit. Yosef may have gone there for a noble purpose — perhaps to bless God for the miracle of his survival, perhaps as a personal act of healing and closure.

But once again, the brothers interpreted the act in the opposite way. Instead of seeing healing, they saw resentment.

Yosef wept because he realized they still suspected him. As Mishnah suggests, suspicion of righteous people is a cause for tears.

The Key to Peace

Yosef wanted reconciliation with all his heart, but in a certain sense, his brothers did not allow it.

Their suspicion remained. Their trust was incomplete. They still did not fully believe in each other. Yosef’s heart was heavy with that realization.

To judge others favorably is one of the greatest keys to peace and Yosef cried because that key had been lost.

The moral lesson for us is profound. Let us strive to judge every action favorably and thereby increase peace in the world. If God forbid, we have hurt someone, we must ask forgiveness sincerely and from the heart.

Most importantly, we must remember that people are often willing to forgive us. We need to believe that and allow them to forgive.

Let us build a society in which people trust one another, judge one another favorably, and make space for forgiveness between one person and another.

This is in our hands.