This week we conclude the reading of the Book of Genesis. The first of the Five Books of Moses – probably the most significant of the entire canon – ends. Fittingly, this week’s portion – Va’Ye’chi (literally “and he lived”) – is a portion full of endings. Both Jacob, the last of Judaism’s Founding Fathers, and Joseph, his most famous and beloved son, end their lives here. And if we consider the Haftara as well, then King David, too, will end his life by the time our reading is complete.
The end of one’s life may often be used as an opportunity for reflection. Some would like to depart this world with an act that symbolizes, more than any other, their life on earth. Their legacy. Let us examine shortly how Jacob and Joseph choose to end their own lives.
We begin with Jacob. At the center of today’s portion is Jacob’s blessings to his twelve sons – the twelve Tribes of Israel. These blessings are extremely complex, and I cannot dwell on them here; suffice it to say that Jacob opens his last address with the cryptic words: “Gather around me, and I shall tell you on your experiences at the end of days.” (Gen. 49:1)
But how does Jacob choose to leave this world? The answer to me is, exactly like his father. Indeed, the similarities between Jacob’s end-of-life story and Isaac’s are striking. Both men, the biblical text informs us, could hardly see at the end of their days (compare Gen. 48:10 (“And the eyes of Israel were heavy of old age”) with 27:1 (“And Isaac turned old, and his eyes became too dark too see”)); both question the identity of the sons standing before them for blessings (compare Gen. 27:18 (Isaac’s question to Jacob: “Who are you [of] my son[s]?”) with 48:8 (“And Israel saw the sons of Joseph, and he asked: ‘who are these people?’”)); both bless first the younger rather than the older, despite the explicit law to the contrary (compare Gen. 48:14 (Israel blesses Ephrayim first, although he is the younger than Menashe), with 27:28 (Isaac blesses Jacob first)); and, most strikingly, both refuse to renege on their wrongful blessing order once they are corrected by an outside observer (compare Gen. 48:19 (Jacob refuses to recognize his mistake), with 27:38 (Isaac refuses to recognize his)).
The end of Jacob’s life, therefore, is marked by unification with his father – “Ma’assei Avot, Siman Le’vanim” – the deeds of the fathers are signs for their sons.” (Midrash Tan’chuma, Lech Lecha, 9). To make this symbolic connection even more concrete, Jacob insists that he be physically buried right next to his father, at the famous site bought by his grandfather many years earlier. His last wish is fulfilled by his sons, and now Jacob is finally forever united with his father Isaac, and grandfather Abraham.
The end of Joseph’s life is almost diametrically opposed. Instead of uniting with his family, Joseph legacy is more about himself than anyone else. Recall that as a child, Joseph had a dream (two, in fact) where his brothers bowed to him, as if they were his servants. The brothers, obviously, hated him for that. Near the end of his life, this dream comes true.
Recall that Jacob, the patriarch, is dead. Now the brothers are fearing that their younger brother will “hate us and finally award us back for all the evil things we caused him.” (Gen. 50:15) So big is their fear, that they concoct a “last will and testament” by their father, one that was never made, according to which he should not hurt them. Joseph, who probably knows they are lying (surely his father would have told him that), not only forgives them, but burst into crying again. (Recall the dramatic settings at the beginning of the last portion, where Joseph orders everyone away, and burst into crying before introducing himself to his brothers). He then reassures them that no harm would be done to them. Hearing that, the brothers actually “fall in front of Joseph” and say: “We are your servants.” (Gen. 50:18)
…. Is a New Beginning
Other than in endings, Genesis’ last portion may also offer a lesson in new beginnings. True, in order to fully comprehend that one must “cheat” and turn the page to the new book of Exodus. Still, in this case, the game is worth the candle.
In Exodus 1:6-8, we find the following very succinct but beautiful description: “And Joseph has passed, and so did his brothers, and that entire generation . . . . and a new king rose over Egypt, and he did not know Joseph.” The notion that Joseph, the most significant figure in Egypt (and the region) for nearly 80 years was not known by the new ruler gives us pause; yet at the same time it sounds extremely familiar. Just like every president (all over the world, not just here) wishes to distance himself as much as possible from his predecessor, so did the new Pharaoh not want to be defined by the legend of Joseph.
But in a deeper sense, the separation from Joseph and his generation – in essence, the separation from Genesis – is necessary to understand the story of Exodus. Indeed the book of Genesis is unique in many respects, not the least of which is the fact that all the key figures – local and domestic, plebes as well as kings – recognize the power of Abraham’s God (and therefore, to an extent, believe in Him). This is true, to be sure, for Joseph’s Pharaoh as well. Not so for the other four books in the Chumash (or the other 23, for that matter, of the entire Tanach). Here we find people – and kings – who refuse to recognize His powers and presence.
But “Mai’Az Yatza Ma’tok” from the unfortunate came the sweetest of all (Judges 14:14): As a people, we needed someone like Pharaoh who refuses to believe so we can leave Egypt and re-settle in the Promised Land. In a sense, therefore, we needed someone who “did not know Joseph” in order to really escape Joseph’s land. And thus, Joseph’s end truly marks our beginning.
Shabat Shalom,
Doron
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