Like many of you, I have shed a few tears in witnessing the conclusion of the great Star Wars saga, which has been with me since December 1977, when I first admired George Lucas' masterpiece in a small hall in the Ligurian hinterland.
In this latest film (on the cinematic aspect of which I do not intend to dwell, although I have appreciated several aspects of it) we witness the rise of Rey, an intrepid Jedi fighter, who at the film's conclusion defines herself as "Rey Skywalker." This phrase, which is the last in the film, has given many, including myself, a run for their money. Indeed, the Star Wars epic explores the lights and shadows of generations of the Skywalker family, of which the main protagonists are a part: from Anakin Skywalker, aka Darth Vader, to Luke and Leia, to Leia's son Kylo Ren. And it is indeed bizarre that in the concluding film, whose title is "The Rise of Skywalker," all the surviving members of that family die. The only Skywalher whose rise we really see is precisely young Rey, who, however, is not a Skywalker. What must the authors have meant by that?
I was pondering this these days, studying the week's synagogue readings, namely the well-known story of Joseph and his brothers. Betrayed and nearly killed by his brothers, who hate him for various reasons, Joseph is sold into slavery in Egypt, where he will become prime minister and, in time of famine, will be visited by brothers who do not recognize him. After several twists and turns, Joseph will choose to reveal his identity to his brothers, who will settle in Egypt allowing the old father to re-embrace his beloved son, whom he believed to be dead.
The key element of this narrative is the fact that Joseph, profoundly changed over the years to the point of being unrecognizable, with a new identity and above suspicion, could undoubtedly ignore his brothers and conceal his identity. For mysterious reasons, however, he chooses not to follow this path and, instead, to recompose the deeply dysfunctional family that had basically suppressed him but remained his family. The clan of Jacob/Israel, and the Jewish people born from it, will be formed precisely because of this undoubtedly painful choice.
Choosing one's family is usually thought to be impossible. Yet, when we reach a certain degree of maturity we are sometimes given to do so, at least in part. The latest heroine of the Star Wars saga chooses a new, different family, perhaps one that more closely matches her values and expectations. The biblical Joseph, on the other hand, chooses his family of origin as his new family, probably with the idea that there is in it a part of him that is valuable in spite of everything. In both cases, however, it is a choice. The idea of choosing, and not just suffering, is an important key. To be able to maturely choose what was originally destined by fate for us is an arduous undertaking, but one of great richness and with often unexpected implications, if it is lived with courage.
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