The final pulse of Vayeshev is a clean cut.
“He did not remember him.”
No drama. No explanation. Just that.
The righteous one is buried twice: in a pit of earth and in a pit of human forgetting. Nothing wounds like being forgotten while still breathing.

Miketz begins otherwise.
“At the end of two years.”
Not continuity, but suspension. Not punishment, but incubation.
The silence was not absence; it was invisible labour. Something grew in the dark while no one was watching. And only when the hunger of the world reached its precise measure did the story move again. Not before. Never before.

Power dreams. It always dreams. But it does not understand what it dreams.
It sees cows and ears of grain, excess and devouring—images without a reader.
The empire perceives signals but lacks the soul to decipher them. A dream without an inner reader is noise.
When life........

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)