The haftarah for parashat “Vayigash,” taken from Ezekiel 37:15-28, is both an emotionally charged and politically consequential prophetic vision. It speaks not only to the drama unfolding in this week’s Torah portion but also to the deepest fault lines in Jewish history – and to the possibility of their healing.
In the Torah, Joseph finally reveals himself to his brothers after decades of estrangement, betrayal, and misunderstanding. The family torn apart by jealousy and silence is reunited through truth, repentance, and courage. In the haftarah, the Prophet Ezekiel elevates this private family reconciliation into a sweeping national vision: the reunification of the divided House of Israel itself.
Ezekiel is commanded by God to take two sticks. On one, he is to write “For Judah,” and on the other “For Joseph, the stick of Ephraim.” Then comes the crucial instruction: “Bring them together into one stick so that they become one in your hand” (37:17).
This is no abstract metaphor. Ezekiel is prophesying to a nation shattered by civil war, exile, and ideological fracture. After the death of King Solomon, the Jewish people split into two rival kingdoms: Judah in the South and Israel in the North. The rupture was political, spiritual, and cultural, and it proved catastrophic. Division led to vulnerability, and vulnerability to destruction. The northern kingdom was exiled by Assyria, while Judah would later be conquered by Babylon.
Facing this bleak reality, Ezekiel dares to speak of unity.
One nation in one land
But the prophecy does not promise merely a vague coexistence or a loose confederation. Instead, God speaks of something far more substantial: full reintegration. “I will make them into one nation in the land, on the mountains of Israel; and one king shall be king to them all” (37:22). No more competing sovereignties. No more rival truths. No more fractured identity.
The parallels to parashat “Vayigash” are unmistakable. Joseph does not seek revenge, nor does he assert dominance. Instead, he weeps. He speaks plainly, bridging the chasm with his brothers with empathy. Reconciliation, the Torah teaches, does not begin with power but with sincerity.
The haftarah goes on to link national reunification with moral renewal: “They shall no longer defile themselves with their idols... I will save them in all their dwellings where they have sinned and I will purify them” (37:23). Political unity without spiritual integrity is hollow. The two must go hand in hand.
This message resonates powerfully today. The Jewish people is once again sovereign in its land, yet profoundly divided – religiously, politically, culturally. We argue over identity, over authority, over the meaning of Jewish destiny itself. Too often, we wield the language of brotherhood while practicing the politics of discord.
Ezekiel offers no shortcuts. Unity, he insists, must be rooted in shared purpose and accountability. It requires a willingness to confront our failures and recommit to the core values that bind us as a people.
The prophet also reminds us that unity is inseparable from security. “My servant David shall be king over them... and they shall dwell in the land that I gave to Jacob My servant” (37:24-5). Sovereignty, the Land of Israel, and tranquility are all intertwined. Fragmentation invites external threat; cohesion enables resilience.
This is not merely ancient theology. Jewish history is unambiguous on this point. When we are divided, we are weak. When we stand together, we endure.
Yet Ezekiel’s vision is not one of uniformity. The two sticks do not cease to be what they are. Judah remains Judah; Joseph remains Joseph. Unity does not erase difference – it sanctifies and elevates it by placing it within a larger shared destiny.
That may be the haftarah’s most urgent lesson.
Like Joseph and his brothers, the Jewish people today face a choice. We can remain trapped in cycles of suspicion and recrimination, or we can summon the courage to speak honestly, listen deeply, and rebuild trust with one another.
Ezekiel does not promise that this will be easy. But he does promise that it is possible and that it is divinely desired.
As we read parashat “Vayigash” and its haftarah, we are reminded that Jewish destiny is not fulfilled through isolation or internal warfare. It is fulfilled when fractured families become whole again, when divided tribes grasp the same stick, and when a people remembers that despite all our differences, we share one past, one land, one Torah, and one future.